...
my memory's screen door opens to the stars;
there's my Grandfather in the yard
gazing up at the constellations
'That's Telstar, going over us still, '
he whispers softly
his face in the moonlight lined;
no Hamlet's ghost is he
though he whistled when he was worried.
He's not worried now
tending the ghosts of the marigolds
and I am light years from then
though I wish it weren't so.
I wish I could go and turn in my silver flats
in my 12 year old party dress of blue taffeta
(that used to be my cousin Rosalie's)
and sing him the alphabet or a thousand other things
made of mystery and the beautiful, the blue back speller
but I'm too old for that now or else
he's too young.
younger than I am now
but still in the pea green jacket with the fedora
trousers from the 1940s.
tall as any tree
still in love with the Space program
the baseball scores of the Arkansas Travelers.
and shining my shoes for school,
the penny loafers later on, in this nostalgic dream: to a farethewell,
bright as copper stars.
mary angela douglas 21 october 2020
So nicely executed. It is a great tribute to your grandfather. Thanks and congratulations for being chosen this poem as the member poem of the poem of the day.
Lined! ! ! ! With the muse of the moonlight! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
A wonderful tribute, Mary Angela! A well-deserved choice as Member Poem of the day!
A most beautiful dedication for your Grandfather, dear poetess Mary Angela! How you have created this ardent poem so vividly starting in the garden where Grandfather sits to gazing up at the constellations. This starting in the garden with Grandfather is so impressive and nostalgia and above all very cozy. You succeeded in the poem to make it so close to our thoughts, as if Grandfather still IS there in the garden.So intimate.
This amazing Member Poem Of The Day revisited and reread, makes the poem lovelier than ever before! And More
" there's my Grandfather in the yard gazing up at the constellations 'That's Telstar, going over us still, ' he whispers softly" I enjoy magic moments captured like honeybees in a jar. QtR
but I'm too old for that now or else he's too young. younger than I am now but still in the pea green jacket with the fedora trousers from the 1940s./// every memory is every green, too young; memory never get growing old, it's always liveliness as like the dream; here the poet excellently delineated the memory of her grandfather; beautiful poem penned; I enjoyed; congrats for being selected this poem as POD.........5***** from me
I really like this. My grandfather meant a lot to me, as yours obviously did to you. Congrats on the selection as member poem of the day!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Its a beautiful farewell poem. Full of emotion and truth