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Best Poems Written by Charlotte Zuzak

Below are the all-time best Charlotte Zuzak poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Lettie Died

Lettie died, the house is empty,
No one in the family left.
Flowered sheets once used as curtains
Faded now by brilliant sunlight
Rot and crumble to the floor.
Beer and Coke cans thrown at windows,
No one seems to care;
The lock is broken, all may enter
Look! the bed where Lettie died!
The front porch sags where Lettie sat
Passing all her summer days
Diabetic and overweight,
Withdrew from life when Mama died.
Noisy tots on tricycles
Pump their legs to get on by;
The house of ghosts, or so says Grandma,
Restless souls who cannot sleep.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Midsummer Moment

Romantic shadows of
Luminous love
Lend intense warmth
To a midsummer night as
Sensuous fragrance,
Shimmering moonlight,
Combine in nature's backdrop
While a quartet of flutes
At the water's edge
Enhances spectral mists and
Hushes soft laughter
For a moment of nocturnal tranquility.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Assisted Living

Life is down to no-frills necessities
in a room with the chest of drawers,
double bed and television.
The walker stands in the corner
waiting to be used to get to the dining room,
the social activity three times a day.
The nurse's aide, with her lilting Haitian accent,
comes around to check during the day:
time for meds, channel change? a walk
down the hall? a glass of juice?
You know that you mustn’t drive a car.
The house is gone, and so are its furnishings,
let's face it, life is over.
Grandchildren come to visit,
sighs of relief when it's over.
Dreams of the past when life was real
occupy time until dinner and bed.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Epistle To a Retired Husband

A list of rules upon your retirement
because I have my interests and activities;
no, we are not getting rid of my car,
I cherish my freedom to move.
I suggest you find your own pastimes,
you'd look pretty silly in red hat.
Oh, by the way, don't follow me shopping
in baseball cap, jeans and white socks.
Grocery planning is my domain
so don't hold forth on where to shop.
I'm out to bunco and Friends of the Library,
meetings held in the evening.
I knit with companions, again early evening,
don't call the shop to see if I'm there.
Remember we said that we'd travel?
There you go!  Get to the travel agency.
Paris, Rome, London, I'm up for those.
I want to eat out whenever I wish,
no more big meals on weekends.
You get the picture? I'm retired, too!
When does the plane leave?  I'm ready!

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Corsica

I am part of the land
the granite and limestone
that contain relics
of man's beginnings.
I stand on the mountain looking
over the water, pure in its shades
of blue as it reaches into the 
caverns along the coast.
The land rises to unknown heights
daring man to conquer it, to live on it.
The remnants of fortresses align the coast
standing guard against unknown forces.
From the Greeks and Romans I draw my blood
continuing the ways, the languages, as I observe
the Europeans with their yachts using
my land as a playground.

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Cancer Ward

Hideous cancer chisels away
With strange tragic sculpturing
And exposes dark flaws
heavy and black:
Inoperable, they say.

Ever present cigarette
Tenaciously supported
By shaking hand
and unfaltering need
Moved toward fried death
As wrenching cough spewed
Fire in weakened lungs.

A machine by the bed
Connected to tubes,
She wavers between
Sleep and reality
Fighting to hear 
The voices around her.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Soup Kitchen Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen
where everyone has a story,
lives of pain and sorrow
spend the day eating fine food,
comforting friends of the street,
and advising mothers and children
long subjected to abuse.

One sees God in the face of
their neighbor as life's 
leftovers of humanity strive for dignity
remembering table manners they
may have learned, passing the food,
not taking too much.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Overture To Autumn

The ghostly courier hints at the approach of autumn,
not by changing of leaves,
but by mists during the heat of August
softening the full moon
as an impressionist would in
hazy landscapes.
Subtle, brief drops in temperature
and early morning cobwebs
warn of a change to come.
The fanfare of glory in fiery color,
a crescendo of the approaching season,
is the final display of nature's middle years,
leading to winter's old age.

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Senior Year Nightmare

Drooping decorations
and graduation mayhem turned to
tears and depression after
fight with high school steady.
The memory of prom date from hell
will hopefully disappear.
The elaborate hairdo was
furiously brushed out,
and the uncomfortable formal
packed away in the attic to be
given to charity next year.
The sweet whispers of love and 
the notes passed in study hall
behind the back of old Mrs. Jenkins,
the talk of a wedding the following summer,
became heartbreaking memories
when Tiffany Blake came to town.

Details | Charlotte Zuzak Poem

Irish Mysticism

Mystical harp's music
Glides passionately
Across the green, rocky land
Near Tara's halls where
Mysteries of the past
Are felt like ghosts
Hovering and protecting the land
Of St. Patrick and St. Brigid.