Two men walk down a dusty street
in Winslow, Arizona.
One places small white crosses
at the curb and recites names
while the other bears witness:
"Juan Fernando Lopez”
“Presente!”
“Maria Anna Ramos”
“Presente!”
“Jose Angel Fernandez”
“Presente!”
“Restos mortales” (Mortal remains)
“Presente!”
This continues until
that day’s accounting
of bodies found in the desert
is complete.
Categories:
winslow, america, death, immigration,
Form: Free verse
Oh hearken the struggle, life's gossamer threads,
The delicate sway of hope ...
Framed by churning white of Lord Neptune's might,
Faith dangles a slender rope.
Wan maiden, her savior, and a scarlet shawl,
Battered by surf and gale ...
Yet our faceless hero and his capable arms,
As sure as the damsel, frail.
Mostly monochromatic, all its tones of gray,
Save for the kerchief, red ...
While turbulent struggles around them rage on,
We center that shawl instead.
We see not the others who attend the line,
But imagine them nonetheless ...
The artist connects them with the lanyard, strong,
And so intimates their distress.
The distinctive edges and leaf-like waves
Are peculiar to Winslow's style ...
As are the rare stories his paintings tell,
That enamor us, and beguile.
While he traveled afar and painted it all,
And was a celebrated roamer ...
He loved my home state of Maine the best,
And so truly was a HOMER.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Celebration of Art Poetry Contest", Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
winslow, adventure, art, life, storm,
Form: Rhyme
John Winslow Homer
Was known to be a roamer
After painting The Fox Hunt
He put down his brush
And moved to Oklahoma
Categories:
winslow, funny,
Form: Clerihew
3-10-2012 Wind blows outside of Winslow
I was gone alright ,The sun was down,the moon was full,
I was kinda blue just walking down the road,
The tiredness completely took my soul,
That is how it is every time I walk through Winslow,
The valleys deep and the hilltops high,
With each step I feel at home,sitting down-sleep won’t be long,
Tomorrow I’ll be thinking a different song,with any luck I’ll be long gone,
But every year I find myself walking along,on the outside if Winslow .
Categories:
winslow, adventure,
Form: I do not know?