Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts

Sunday, December 13, 2020

When We Were All Together

 


  

When We Were All Together

 

“The best of times.”

The very phrase invokes

a mixture of joy and loss

upon recalling the past.

 

When we feasted in bounty

we could not think of empty shelves.

Why spoil a present joy

with fear for the future?

 

Days of laughter –

always welcomed as a tonic

for our troubles

When we were all together.

 

What the years have scattered

leaves us with a timely scrapbook of the heart.

In our separation

we see the measure of our days

with a clarity not known

When we were all together.

 

                                ~ Charles Kinnaird

 

 

 

This poem is one I wrote earlier in the year when we were learning to manage during the initial COVID-19 lockdown. For other poems from a variety of poets, please consider The Social Distance: Poetry in Response to COVID-19, available on Amazon.


The Social Distance: Poetry in Response to COVID-19
An Anthology by the Highland Avenue Eaters of Words

Poetry and photographs in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, sheltering in place, and related trials. The poets, who include doctors, lawyers, journalists, and other professionals open themselves up in non-sentimental, beautiful, and often painful verse that seeks to capture these odd and often difficult times. This book is for those who want to keep a reminder of what "social distancing" was like and to experience how others dealt with isolation and fear. Although engaged in other vocations, the contributing poets include experienced writers who are the winners of local and national contests. Several of the poets have written other books of poetry, essays, and fiction as well as numerous articles and contributions to professional publications.

Available on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Social-Distance-Poetry-Response-COVID-19/dp/1098317092

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Friday, April 29, 2016

April Is Poetry Month: She Sat in Autumn

During the month of April, in honor of National Poetry Month, I am re-posting poems that I have written and shared on this blog. This one is from September 22, 2012.


She Sat in Autumn

My grandmother sat in autumn
Shelling pecans at the kitchen table.
At mid afternoon
The children were at play in the yard;
Parents, at work.
She made herself useful
Preparing a sack of pecans
That would go to candies and pies
Destined for holiday enjoyment.

Her fingers remained nimble
Though hands were darkened
By age spots;
Skin wrinkled by
Time and duty.

She thinks back to younger days 
(My childhood heart knew nothing of her sorrow).
So many years a widow,
She wonders what might have been
If that fiery Irishman, ten years her senior,
Had only had a stronger heart.
She hurts for her son –
The favored one –
Whose life spiraled into alcohol and bitterness.

“How did you keep yourself whole
And loving,” I asked, as the observer
In this autumn-tinted memory,
“So that all I ever saw as a child
Was gladness and light?”

“I had to welcome what life brought,”
Her thin fingers grasped the nutcracker
To loose another autumn kernel,

“I had to be here to shell pecans.”

                                   ~ Charles Kinnaird



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Image: "Grandmother Michaud in Silhouette"
Artist: Edouard Vuillard – 1890 
Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden – Washington DC
Medium:Oil on cardboard


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Saturday, September 22, 2012

An Autumn Memory


She Sat in Autumn

My grandmother sat in autumn
Shelling pecans at the kitchen table.
At mid afternoon
The children were at play in the yard
Parents, at work.
She made herself useful
Preparing a sack of pecans
That would go to candies and pies
Destined for holiday enjoyment.

Her fingers remained nimble
Though hands were darkened
By age spots;
Skin wrinkled by
Time and duty.

She thinks back to younger days 
(My childhood heart knew nothing of her sorrow).
So many years a widow,
She wonders what might have been
If that fiery Irishman, ten years her senior,
Had only had a stronger heart.
She hurts for her son –
The favored one –
Whose life spiraled into alcohol and bitterness.

“How did you keep yourself whole
And loving?” I asked
In this autumn-tinted memory,
“So that all I ever saw
Was gladness and light?”

“I had to welcome what life brought,”
Her thin fingers grasped the nutcracker
To loose another autumn kernel,
“I had to be here to shell pecans.”

                                     Charles Kinnaird



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