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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Cash for Robert W Service On The Dawson Trail

In 21st Century Culture on May 16, 2014 at 9:02 PM

Poppy and Pop-Pop

THERE ARE STRANGE THINGS DONE IN THE MIDNIGHT SUN

 

M’Lady Is On Her Stone Steps, Sir

In Short Fiction on June 4, 2012 at 5:32 PM

Copyright 2012 by Kimberly Cox, All Rights Reserved

Written for the lovely Katelan Foisy, to whom the author humbly offers its dedication.

Goodbye To The House On Peachblossom Creek

In LIFE on June 2, 2012 at 2:00 AM

Take me back to the days when we would swing

from the branches of dogwood trees,

run down to the dock with our minnow nets

to check the crab pots,

or in early summer, before the jellyfish,

jump off the end of the wooden dock

into Peachblossom Creek

We’d swim across the river to the sandbar

to play in the tidal pools

until we were called in for supper.

`     `     `   No one ever tells children the truth.

That point

It comes at some point and then,

childhood dies.

“`     ““     “

it happens slowly so you don’t notice

and once it’s dead,

`     `     `     `     `     `     it’s gone forever.

Days you can never have back.

`

Freedom as pure as a summer’s evening

stripped away as naturally and steadily 

as winter strips the earth of its green.

`

There are no more summer days

for us

at the house

on Peachblossom Creek.

`

We all grew up, our parents grew old,

and our grandfathers passed away.

It’s been years since that land was sold

with its great magnolia trees

that bloom every spring

“`     “   `

…if they’re still there.

…. Perhaps they bloom each year     for another       happy     family?

____

` ` <“•ª*`¬ ))~~~~>>}

But I don’t dare

turn right off the Oxford Road,

the first right after Peachblossom Creek Bridge,

onto Old Country Club Road,

where the gates to the house are less than a mile in,

I don’t dare go back again

`     `     `     The sight of how the years have changed it

`      `      `   I probably won’t recognize it

The House, The HOME,

where we celebrated so many Christmases

and summer nights catching lightning bugs

those years when we were children

those times that can never happen again

as we scattered apart like leaves on the wind

_

No one

ever

told me

that’s

what

growing up

is.

***

©2010, KHC

Sonnet MMXII, 6.1 (Untitled)

In SONNETS on June 1, 2012 at 5:30 AM

Allay this, Time; at long last, grant rest here?

Thou keep’st a fair wager, well-played and won;

So, keep more fair in leaving each lost year,

By Thee, thus free from me; done, as is done.

Wretchèd I plea for my gamble and waste.

These are to Thee as pebbles for skipping;

Forever gone. To Thy sea—Pure, still chaste!

They are to me as precious pearls, weeping.

Alas, I see Time’s purpose: Retrospect.

Alack, for Youth and inexperience;

Assuage, ephemeral years, due respect;

Anoint, Thy pebbles here; mark, their conscience.

For Time doth win its years: harsh, just and fair;

Lest all years hence be lost to more despair.

Written for you at 03:30 EDT, 01-June-2012, by your Gidgie.

Copyright 2012, by KHC, All Rights Reserved.

Retrospect

In Millennial Generation on January 25, 2012 at 6:09 PM

RETROSPECT

Written as a poem prior to a weekend playing music and jamming with friends up in the mountains, the song it became in 1998/1999 is lost with the cassette tape-recording. I can still play it back in my mind and before it fades from my memory, at least in some way, the lyrics may live on. I dedicated it to Kristen K and if you’re out there, lovely red-haired lady, then it’s you, me and ‘THE ROACH’ keepin’ it smokin’. 

I hung up the phone last night

You had told me everything was all right

Then why the pain of fear and fright touch my heart?

I remember the last days of summertime

We were children in our innocence and in our minds

Do you remember that fateful day

When we learned about the ways that a human being can prey

We were fine ‘til we heard that noise

Underneath of the apple tree in your yard

Its funny how we never make any sense…

You came to me in a dream last night. Your illusion reflected in a pool of light.

Asked me if I would pause to catch a dream.

You took my hand and we tumbled down

a flight of stairs until we reached the ground.

The grass was soft beneath my feet.

It was then that you turned and ran away. Leaving me…what to say?

What does it mean?

And the air turned cold as I walked all alone on a road of broken cobblestone.

I heard your voice. From far away. And I called to you. To come back and play. But I couldn’t understand the answer that you gave.

So I told my legs to run. Faster than they had ever done. Towards your voice ‘cause I’d made the choice that I would never leave your side.

Look back. As I turned my head and the wind blew cold. And we froze.

How was I supposed to know?

How was I supposed to know?

I remember the last days of summer in our lives. In our innocence we disbelieved in time.

And you lost me. And you lost me when I left you.

And you lost me. And you lost me ‘cause I loved you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Copyright 1999, 2012 by Kimberly Cox

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