September 1st
The obligatory backpacks bought,
The sectioned notebooks and the cornucopia of Sharpies,
Heralding the dull march back to classrooms, schedules.
In its forlorn wake a trail of
Unhurried pancake breakfasts
And lying perfectly still on a sun-scorched dock,
Until perhaps trailing a finger,
But only one.
September 2nd
Boats pulled out for the season
Children rushing to school
And like a switch was flipped overnight
The water in the bay now darker
Deeper
Always be a poet. Even in prose.
— Charles Baudelaire.
In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]
Nothing Gold Can Stay: A Mother
and Father Remembered.
reviews: 2
ratings: 4 (avg rating 5.00)
A sequence of my poems has been published in a hardcover book entitled The Music of Leaving Poems by Tricia McCallum
More info…
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2 Responses
Experiencing much the same (esp the 9/2 piece), but from the school employee viewpoint. I was daydreaming yesterday about the vacation rental dock we left behind only a few weeks ago, already grown mythic in memory.
It’s always much better to carve out our very own timeline, Ron.
I’ll use this venue to tell you how much I appreciate your feedback and support of my work. And that I am so enjoying your words.
Do you know of the writer Jena Schwarz and her wonderful writers’ groups? http://www.jenaschwartz.com I have been part of two of her monthly “Dive into Poetry” sessions and am writing truer, better, because of them. Think about joining us. I am diving in to the October group. It will be chilly but I find the process works wonders.
Keep writing, Ron. Damn the torpedoes. And the accountants.
Warmly, Tricia McCallum