Long Coming of age Poems
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THE ARRANGEMENT
It's a dull, grey afternoon in the middle of October, with nothing much to commend about it. Last of the autumn leaves are falling from trees with the icy breeze, too chill for even the ardent gardener to be out and about, where streets are deserted, and children are not yet out of school. Clouds are softly framed in bands of charcoal grey.
Our heroine, Erin McCarty can't distinguish whether the distant rumble she hears, is a brewing storm, or her empty stomach. It occurs to her she hasn't eaten a thing, except for the quick granola bar early this morning at the bus station.
As she approaches the old house she sees that the garden needs weeding, devil grass taking over the wind-whipped faces of faded, dreary, old chrysanthemums. It is so unlike her mother to let it go untended. Seeing it so unkempt, makes her a bit uneasy.
A suitcase heavy in her hand, she hesitates before turning the knob, or ringing the bell, taking a moment to compose. She waits a moment. What will they say, ...what will they think when she tells them everything that has happened, and where she has been all this time?
The old place seems strangely *****, as if she’s gained new insight
As if another eye had sprouted new, to view the past more clearly, and the present, more objectively. She seems to perceive shade and shadows, shape, as if she were watching from above.
The chrysalis that held her in, has drawn her back here again.
How will they receive this unexpected return? Will she still be welcome?
Have they been able to forgive her for leaving without a word?
Her hand on the knob, the door is locked, then almost without her control, her finger has pushed the doorbell. At first just the silence, .....then the sound of muffled footsteps. Someone is coming.
The door opens...........and she is startled. Who is this?......?
Who is this stranger answering her mother's door?............
Follow Erin's story to the captivating ending...
a story of hope, renewal and rebirth. A story of coming of age, coming to terms with both love and sadness. It will remind you, that love and compassion can renew the spirit...even when the world has turned upside down.
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For the Contest Sponsored By Judy Konos: "You Have Written A Novel"
Pile drivers have replaced gandy dancers
And Mayflower trucks the circus, open-cage parades
Horse drawn down Main Street U.S.A.,
But overnight canvas bosses still command
Roust abouts to raise big top sails,
Over decks of prairie dogs and tumbleweeds.
There are gaudily painted juggernaut ride machines.
Smells of grease, heated white from oozing knuckle joints,
Calliopian music and rounds of happy screams.
A carney operator offers two a Scrambler car,
Teases riders with the tip of his bitten off cigar
A flick on your nose and ash that crashes to the circus grounds.
Jukebox music by Wurlitzer gets tinny with distance
On both sides of musty tented, kid show exhibitions
Mushrooming quiet translucent, sideshow shadow lands.
One sign says:
A WOMAN’S LIVING HEAD!
And inside there is a severed head up on a tabletop.
She answers questions easily, smiles and winks.
A kid shill says she’s doubled up
Inside a box affixed with mirrors.
Our cheeks redden more for her
Than the fact that we are led astray ourselves.
We leave to let more unenlightened in.
That day, I left forever past free throws
To win erstwhile girlfriends
By shooting hoops too narrow to be made. (4/4/21)
Don’t you see where you are
There was a time you wouldn’t tolerate
People thinking for themselves
You pass your judgments
And you made decisions to never last
You were the dominant voice
The ideology behind every mans choice
You believed in what you knew
And you knew no more than what you were told
We’ve come too far near for change
You were the leader
You were a generation of unopposed cheaters
You assassinated
You told stories of finer fabrication
You fought for patriotism, you fought for pride
Seldom did you put your integrity aside
You made no rights to be considered civil
You preyed on anyone who was thought to be liberal
You expressed your Marxist theories
You denied the working class it’s values
You sat me on the back of the bus
You told your children to fear me
We’ve come too far near for change
You formed conglomerates
And biased political party’s
In 63 you showed very little sympathy
Oh how you shook the wind from me
You told me I was only a third of a person
You scolded that my days would worsen
You defined anti-Semitism in less than four years
And before this, you path a trail of tears
Walk with me this way
You know things will not be okay
God bless a cease fire
For a present day Vietnam provokes war this day
We’ve come too far near for change
So mothers and children
Fathers and pilgrims
Settle the sky’s
For there are no frontiers left to pry
The rivers in which you wade
Have been drained too tire
From a followers coming of age
Script your life, live your days
Press your quill to this page
Is this what you ask for
A patent at your door
No more Marconi’s
No more hero’s or displeasures
Only a world lost and lonely
Are we too far near for change
Yiya was rest assured
a promising home, she had kept chary
hers a river teepee a breathing beast,
smoke flaps exhaling atop
warmed by fire burned low
hides of heliotrope hues aglow
animated painted horse and buffalo,
reincarnated shadowed figures
dancing to crackling embers
at start of every sundown
cooled in simmer summer
dry of sombrous rain runoff
trickling down a conical roof
her traditions evoked in ceremonials
coming of age, death, birth, Mother Earth
drum circles, collective heartbeats
sharing bean bread, three sisters, wild greens
connection, belonging
holding on ‘til the folding of time
torn from all she knew,
she is fused within tribes
pathfinder scorn to swamps
her moccasins worn thin by every hardship,
her spirit snagged through mud,
through icy terrain, through wilderness
stained by the weight of each step
bearing, carrying her forward
what had once been soft and whole
now bore the marks of survival,
proof the path had tried to break, yet failed
frailer, flailed beneath a strawberry moon,
frayed edges become less a sign,
ruinous of a quiet testament of endurance
seekers of unknown lowlands and lowly creatures
brutal summits, known as t h e
T
r
a
i
l
o
f
T
e
a
r
s
they fall with each turn each twist
of her bruised body
gash and fist, resist, resist
shed are fears,
resilient are broken dreams
salt sweat dripping,
rippling rivers of betrayals
tears of brooding beads frozen
Great Spirit hear her cries
through howling winds,
grueling are the spiky pines
nativized settlers ride along
an arduous journey,
‘escorts of prosecution’
starved crass riverbends
clogged with ice, shards
carved into bled hearts
her existence impermissible
bleak harling horizons
beyond unbaled wilderness
caws of carrion vultures swarm
calling the darkening sky
agony on the path of exile
the tour of trespassers
her nature and character
changed forevermore
her promises broken
in a distant land of the banished,
she had vanished
An apple red as blood
Here you go dear
Take it with cheer
It's sweet as sweet can be
If only you would run away
Or something like that
My mirror just won't let me be
As I look into it, it keeps reminding me
Alas, I'm not the fairest of them all
That makes my blood boil as I walk past
My husband says, Oh my beauty she is a child
I say, yes, she is a coming of age child
And she is your child at that
There can only be one queen of this manor
I will send my huntsman to retrieve her heart
Then maybe this thorn in my side will subside
She will be gone once and for all from my site
Or maybe the huntsman will be her prince charming
And they will ride off together, never to be seen again
So here my child take this apple and eat
This blood red apple is calling to you
And be on your way for good this day
I should never want to see you again
9/ 19/ 2012 9pm Sunday
I wrote it as I was watching the add for snow white & the huntsman with Charlize Theron,,, she is a favorite actress of mine .
...He spotted Jones, and three other rough men,
digging at the ground beneath a large spruce.
Jones was grousing, “I know it’s buried somewhere,
if if it’s not here, I’ll beat it out of that youth!”
It was them Elias spurred his horse on,
emerging from behind a smallish grove,
they all spun and saw him, pistols ready,
said Elias, “I had wondered…now I know.
“Why a criminal could care much for me,
they say there is no honor among thieves,
you didn’t care for you old pardner’s son,
you just though that I might have what you need.”
Trigger Jones stood up with a vicious grin,
said,” Well god damn, if took you long enough.
Who would’ve thought the preacher would buy the land
where old Kerwin used to hide all his stuff.
“I’d hoped you could tell me, show us the loot,
that’s why I bothered toying with your head,
but I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,
if you know, speak, or I’ll shoot you dead.”
Elias just laughed, “I would never help you
even if I knew, don’t you understand?
You call me Kerwin, but my name is Jensen,
my father raised me an honorable man.”
Jones just said and said, “Well ain’t you a daisy.
I guess you’ll die a stone’s throw from your home.”
Elias just smirked back, said, “Do you think
I was fool enough to ride out on my own?”
At these words six others rode into view,
surrounding Jones and all his bandit scum,
the sheriff led them, six shooter in hand,
barked, “You all throw up your hands, or you’re done.”
Jones looked like he might make trouble for them,
but around him his men threw up their arms,
and the old crook realized there was no escape,
he dropped his pistol, saved himself from harm.
There were rewards on all the bandit’s head,
the sheriff rode off quite happy that day.
Elias rode back to his home relieved,
no longer could anyone doubt his ways.
For all the past, his temper, his worries,
none could ever now doubt he had honor,
he wasn’t bound by a bandit long dead,
and now could live the life that he deserved.
I never understood much that went before, could never sing hymns
at the gate of youth with confidence nor carry myself through
uncertain adolescence with conviction; I was always puzzled by
geometry and the comatose of algebra drawing a sort of wonder
only in the divine mystery of the solemn earth and the sound of ice
cream vans down backstreets and the jazzy hum from playgrounds
and swimming pools and the quiet cathedral peace of bluebell
woods where curiosity blinked at every turn of the knotted path and
ivy hung trunks stood defiant out along the dipping brook with its
mystery of where it had been and where it went – I never understood
much about my coming of age where manhood was an advertising
falsehood and adulthood was a wound of conformity with its
dreaded spectre of responsibility; I always dreamt of someone
nobler to be there when I awoke, a confidante to walk the timeless
trails, a twinned mind to share the small miracles when light gets
through the blinded eye – and then, how sweet, how sweet it was,
you appeared from behind the curtain of fate, a gift from divine
providence, an answer to a gambler’s prayer, how sweet that
miracle was, to find you amongst the chimneys and railings of the
bleak landscape that went before, a steady hand against the
wicked winds of chance, a fellow explorer, my blessed companion,
precious as the boundless sky, you turned the heads of lambs as
you passed by and the truth of you was the God in everything I
adore.
Testosterone poisoning, there is no vaccine
That will keep this from killing all those in between
The coming of age and the coming unglued
Among one society segment imbued
With certain fixations which are second to none
When they fix on a target while coming undone
It can't be the tools they use in their trade
It must be some other trade-off we've made
For surely some illness is causing this schism
Besmirching what we know is exceptionalism
We have to get better with our institutions
Because we hold sacrosanct our constitution
Solutions will surely present themselves when
The sword remains mightier still than the pen
There's always exceptions proving the rules
And challenging history's only for fools
They always rush in where wise men refrain
We'll stay with the angels, we're holding the reins
This too, shall pass, it's happened before
It'll happen again, there's always one more
Misguided fool going off of the rails
Conservative minds will always prevail
Secure in the notion that right will make might
And the mighty will be sleeping soundly tonight
For a month Laurie mulled and brooded,
even tried to think it wasn’t her fault,
if Stan had just told her the things he did
maybe she wouldn’t have left him at all,
but such thoughts were nothing but a stall.
The fault lay entirely on her end,
she’d failed to even try to comprehend.
But finally she summoned her courage
and went down to his small apartment,
she meant to explains the things she did,
but when he answered and she caught his scent
to his lips her own instantly went,
Stan was surprised, but her lust was strong,
so like most men, he just went along.
It wasn’t until after, lying in bed,
rhat the first tears came to her eyes,
He said nothing, just gently stroke her head,
didn’t have to ask what was on her mind,
After several long minutes she cried:
“I now understand why you were hurting,
But it’s too late, I screwed up everything.”
He tried to hug her close in his arms,
but she struggled, pulled herself away,
said,”I’ve tasted of other men’s charms,
and there is nothing that I can say,
what I’ve done deserves only your hate.
there’s no way to go back to what we were then,
for what I did, I can’t be forgiven.”
Stan struggled and said,”So tonight was just you
trying to give me a pleasant ‘so long?’
I don’t buy that, because if it were true,
you wouldn’t be feeling the pain this strong,
would not want forgiveness for your wrong.
You want to still love me, but don’t know how,
unsure if you’ll love the man I am now.”
The words struck her hard, and she stammered,
he just put a soft hand to her lips.
“There is no need to get so bothered,
I think that there’s a solution to this,
I have an idea and this is it:
If some love remains, come back tomorrow,
we’ll take this by the day, and see how it goes.”
Laurie didn’t think that this plan could work,
but she found herself each night coming back,
she didn’t know how he didn’t feel hurt
at the compassion she had lacked,
but every night they’d end up in the sack.
Before long she’d left her apartment,
in fact she never left Stan’s bed again.
Wasn’t long before they called the lawyers,
said they weren’t needed anymore,
Laurie looked back on what they were
and saw glimpses of what was in store,
taking on the demons they abhorred.
Stan wasn’t the same, that much was true,
but no longer was she a cowardly youth…
Restless
how slowly life seems to flow
in youth, ever in a hurry and on the go,
rushing toward the coming of age
living quick and fast on a passing stage
finding out nothing truly lasts;
suddenly the sojourner is cast
looking here, looking there
only to find life is everywhere
filling every step with inner wants and needs
searching for something in which to believe
in prayer and distress,
reality fades in its undress;
questioning, what were we looking for at best?
Age sedated in its comfort crown
the long life rush slowing down
a steady pace
of holding our dreams in place
unachieved and still needy in etchings
imperceptible progressions;
no longer an obsessive race
here, safe, secure in life space
held close within its embrace
returning back in time's run
to where it had all begun
accepting one by one
the long journey home has come
back to the Lord, now done.
7/18/21
Tat Tvan Asi
for the Unseeking Seeker