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Poetry Offerings from Cara Alson | Poem

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Farewell

Crystal Citadel

AReverent  End

shortautobio

Links:

Junction

TheMillenium Dawn Anthology
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

Farewell
 

It is morning 
when I find the body 
pale and lifeless
floating belly-up 
bloated death 
distended eyes 
unseeing 
water sloshing 
in the gaping mouth. 

My throat tightens 
my stomach churns 
I may faint 
no, no
I must take charge 
steel myself 
for the ordeal 
for what must be done 
death has claimedanother.

splash
    flush
         goodbye
             little  fish 
 

next  /   to top  /   to Moongate



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 


 
 

Crystal Citadel
 

I found the faded photograph
Buried 'neath yearsof memories 
In a suitcase madeof dust. 
Who was this youngmother 
Clutching her sleepingbabe?

Skin of ivory, innocenteyes
Delicate mouth smilingon her child 
Dark braids circledher head. 
Fragile as glass sheseemed
Clinging to the edgeof a shelf. 

Who were you? I ask 
Frail and gentle woman 
Lady of leisure perhaps? 
Who kept and servedyou, 
Tended to your needs? 

Turned over, writingappears 
Mystery in Hebrewscript
"Grandmother, who'sthis?" 
Her name was Rachel 
My Grandfather's sister. 

Her story echoes still 
In our family corridors 
She buried many aninfant
And raised seven more 
Thanking Heaven forthem all. 

She secreted her children 
From soldiers in thestreet, 
Shipped them to theirfreedom 
Saw her husband witheraway 
And survived a barbed-wireworld. 

Eyes glowing with courage 
Mouth set firm andstrong 
You were not a top-shelf figurine. 
I misinterpreted thecover 
And neglected to readthe story.
 

next  /   to top  /   to Moongate
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 

A Reverent End
 

How is a city revived 
When it is only acarcass, 
Boarded-up store windows 
Staring like deadanimal eyes? 

Dredged up like dinosaurs 
We use salvageableremains, 
Erect new steel skeletons
Cover them with newskins 

    in hopes they will come to  life
   and breathe on their  own. 

Would it not be better 
To respect the deceased,
Honor them for servicerendered, 
Bury them in silence 
And quietly move on? 

next  /   to top   /   toMoongate
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 


Born in San Antonio,Texas, I was raised in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley, where I took root. Igot my love of wordplay from my mother. Other interests include needleworkof all kinds, crocheting for family  and charity, scrapbooking, reading,and genealogy. I am married, have two married children and one  grandchild. 

I started writing poetryduring the 1970's while taking  a writing class at L.A. Valley College.Phrases and images tortured me for  several weeks, and my instructorsuggested I write them down. That gave me a  measure of peace - fora while. My writing has been an on-again-off-again affair since then, callingto me when my emotions are stirred. In 2001, after picking  up thepen again in earnest, I joined a local WriterÂ’s Workshop and the California WriterÂ’s Club. The encouragement offered by other writers andfamily  members gave me the courage to continue writing and to sharemy work with  others. 
 

totop   /   toMoongate

 
 

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