Even the most familiar surroundings were unrecognized
A most fathomless affair; the search for yesterday
The Old Library and playground were also gone
The Chinaberry tree, a landmark, was gone
A most strange emotion hovered over me,
And every trace of the homesite was gone
100722PSCtest, Bite Size. Line Gauthier. 2P
Categories:
homesite, home,
Form: Verse
Grandma was German raised to value beauty,
her art found in nature the flowers and the trees.
Grandpa, a Wentworth, from an English family
whose Great Grand sailed the Mayflower, across the sea.
In the time of William Morris, when craft was art,
Great Granddad was a shipwright that's how we got our start.
So, we valued craft and beauty and adventure charted.
Through tough times, poverty, still wisdom was imparted.
Born in a place of splendor miles from the bay,
Mom was raised on the poetry of Edna Millay.
I was born there to and in the woods I played
amongst maidenhair ferns and violets unafraid.
In art born, with brush and pen, often did I write,
raised on Lord Tennyson to great my delight.
And, I adored the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright
how he blended craftsmanship into each homesite.
Schooled in modern art Warhol and Mies Van De Rhoe,
my mind opened blooming to many new tableaus.
All my contemporaries were part of art neuvau.
Each masterly artisan's work helped me to grow
Categories:
homesite, life, nostalgia, on work
Form: Quatrain