Tag: Memories

True Love – A Cadralor

True Love

Shivering, the young woman stepped outside
pulling on the toggle of her duffle coat
shielding herself from the blistering wind
Just after five and darkness had already fallen
as she headed west on the tree-lined avenue

An old man sat quietly in the corner of the café
Staring into his bottomless cup of coffee
Ignoring hunger pains, twiddling with the
hole in the left finger of his old gloves
His head filled with memories suppressed

An elegant woman sat upright with a fixed smile
He, a puffed up blowhard, at the microphone
Commanding attention with his loud voice
and phony diatribe as kiss-asses drooled
Her body ached and her mind lived in the past

A lifetime ago two kids had clung to each other
Inseparable, joined at the hip, in love
She from the house on the hill, privileged
He from the other side of the railroad tracks
His intellect and her beauty, a winning combo

The young woman saw him in the cafe, head lowered
It had been a long time passing before her call to him
Entering he looked up at her, eyes clouded, and she went to him
Her father embraced her and she clung to him tightly
He needed to know his one true love was dying


Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Bjorn is hosting D'Verse Poets and has prompted us with a form
called Cadralor.
The cadralor is a poem of 5, unrelated, numbered stanzaic images, each of which can stand alone as a poem, is fewer than 10 lines, and ideally constrains all stanzas to the same number of lines. Imagery is crucial to cadralore: each stanza should be a whole, imagist poem, almost like a scene from a film, or a photograph. The fifth stanza acts as the crucible, alchemically pulling the unrelated stanzas together into a love poem. By “love poem,” we mean that your fifth stanza illuminates a gleaming thread that runs obliquely through the unrelated stanzas and answers the compelling question: “For what do you yearn?”

Image by Please Don't sell My Artwork AS IS from Pixabay

Hotter Than Hades

Hotter Than Hades

That summer when I was seven was hotter than Hades
The earth dry and cracked like a moon crater
I remember Grandma sitting on her porch
Snipping the green beans into her apron
Wiping the sweat from her eyes
with the damp cloth permanently wrapped around her neck
We spent most days down in the swimming hole
Swinging from the tree and jumping in the water
or floating in tire tubes just to stay cool
When the sun went down we'd catch fireflies in jars
and watch the June bugs spinning on their backs
by the kitchen door
The days passed slower than molasses
Daddy used to say it was hotter than a stolen tamale
I remember the swarm of grasshoppers that came
They were bigger than Texas.  Billy said they were locusts
They ate momma’s sunflowers,
making her madder than a hornet
There were so many in the air they would land on your legs
while you were riding your bike
Grown-ups were bad-tempered and us kids stayed well away
It seemed as if it was never going to rain
Until that day when big fat drops spotted the pavement 
Like the polka dots on my Sunday best dress
It was a Saturday
Finally, the heavens opened
and the rain came down in buckets
We danced in the street until we were soaked to the skin
and Grandma chased us in with her broom
The next day we all went to church to give thanks 
 
 
Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Grace is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and she has
prompted us to write a poem incorporating setting (specific or descriptive) in our blog.

Word Prompt

Swim - FOWC

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

Tryst

Tryst


Could it be?
Surely not
After a lifetime
of travelers passing by

Was it still
in the same spot?
It was worth a try
 
In the crevasse
Down below
A keepsake
marking the day

A token of love
left there long ago
Buried under the clay 
 
With determination 
it was recovered
Invoking feelings
long forgotten

Lost in thoughts
Recollections stirred
All wrapped up in cotton
 
He had never returned
She was now certain
Their tryst
a faded memory

Faces become hazy
Promises spoken and broken
Conjured in a sweet reverie
 
 
 
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

In response to Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt

Word Prompt:  Haze

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Terrain

 

Terrain

Gorse covered mountains

Heather of purple tangled

In between craggy rocks

Just to please the eyes

Kaleidoscope of shapes and colors

Lingering memories the prize

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

In response to a d’Verse prompt Lillian’s Alphabet Sestet

Using letters G-H-I-J-K-L

Reunion

Reunion

Like snowflakes falling
Silently in the night
I am unaware of the beauty
About to unfold in my sight

You stand in front of me
After a lifetime of years
Memories roaring back
Bringing with them tears

Separated as teenagers
Daddy with a shotgun
A baby on the way
Our parents come undone

You travel east
And I am sent west
Never meant to be
We were told it was for the best

You served our country
Our baby was adopted
Turning away from my family
It was never what I wanted

I left them all in the past
My spirit had been broken
Living a better life alone
Another word was never spoken

Here you are now
A ghost from before
A buried secret
We could never ignore

Your smile the same
It’s as if no time had passed
The lonely years forgotten
We are together at last

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

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Young

Young

When we were young
We were in love and smitten
Every sound was a symphony
The world was smiling at us
Words of devotion written

When we were young
You were the most adorable
The one everybody wanted
But I claimed the prize
Everything became possible

When we were young
There was that September
Memories made
Words of love spoken
Do you remember?

When we were young
I was transported
To dizzying heights
A ring put on my finger
Vows purported

When we were young
Promises were forsaken
Reality resonated
A rose given with thorns
A heart left broken

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Word Prompts:

Remember

Adorable

Symphony

Resonate

Transport

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