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Allen R. Cleveland Poem
Grandma's Apron
In the corner I see a folded apron, brown with years of stain.
As I draw it to my searching eyes, I see the sweat and feel the pain.
All the years of toiling is over, the apron will never wrap around.
The time is past for the pressure, no more soil will there be ground.
The sweat is from the hot summers, when there was only blistering air,
The room was filled with heat, so hot it climbed the stair.
I watched her cooking from on high, quietly perched on the top step,
For I didn't dare to bother her, or Grandpa would beat me with a strap.
Grandpa was not a very nice person, he was always growling and yelling,
And on a few rare occasions, he would beat her, but I'm not telling.
He said it would be very bad for me, if I told my mother the real story.
Why grandma's arm was broken, grandma told me not to worry.
She would just turn her eyes toward heaven, and mutter a silent prayer for him.
Why she didn't pray for herself, that subject seemed so dim.
But now she isn't around anymore, to toil all day in the kitchen.
With all the pots and pans silent, her thread and needle for quick stitching.
What she said the day before she left; I will think of now and ever.
She said that she loved him still, and she would love him forever.
Now I have my own kitchen, where I go to cook a meal.
I go to that place quite often, where remembrance I do steal.
As I take a pot off the hook, I turn the air conditioner off.
I like to feel the heat on my face, so hot it makes me cough.
I try to see my grandma's face, always smiling and full of cheer.
Though her row was full of weeds, I never saw her shed one tear.
God has her now, in His kitchen, I'll bet that He appreciates her cooking.
As fine as any as He has ever had, I can tell you that without looking.
by Allen R Cleveland
06/22/98
Copyright © Allen R. Cleveland | Year Posted 2009
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Allen R. Cleveland Poem
Frayed
My life is full of glad, then sad.
Streams of tears one minute,
then dry bitter laughter.
The only sound at times,
is the rustle of my breathing,
wrapped around a crushed heart.
I have my days,
your memory fills my way,
I remember your smile.
it keeps me going a while.
then I have my days when I know you are gone,
a dry, lonely well in the desert.
My touch is numb, my passions forgotten,
one brush of your hand could kill me.
Bottled up are so many feelings,
The ones that I wanted to share with you.
Long sleepless nights, images flashing,
causes me to reach out to discover,
only the remnants of your presence.
Worn out memories of you,
frayed, being used too much,
there were so few.
I have to feel sorry for me,
cause there is no one else,
The endless black night,
won't relent, so I walk floors,
almost worn out by pacing feet.
Then when sleep wraps me up,
I have to get up to face another bleak day.
Hoping not to see you with someone else,
holding each other as we once did.
Allen R Cleveland
06/09/2006
Copyright © Allen R. Cleveland | Year Posted 2009
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Allen R. Cleveland Poem
Rocket
by: Allen R Cleveland
Rocket through the sky with me,
take me to the distant moon.
We'll shake a few stars in the heavens,
and ride a comet to our doom.
Before we can approach the death,
that our bodies will embrace.
Lets put our arms around each other,
and fly out into outer space.
Lets not let anyone it this world,
distract our love making that will be.
and we'll shoot for the distant galaxies,
we'll be away from everybody and be free.
Past rolling asteroids we'll soar,
ducking and dodging to and fro.
but we will be together to share,
what there is left of life we know.
So lets skip across the stars,
and twril around in space.
for each time I look up there,
I'll see your lovely face
05/25/98
Copyright © Allen R. Cleveland | Year Posted 2009
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