Some Places We Shall Never Go

The second time she said, “Unfriend that girl!” so,

I hid behind those walls belonging to Masonic Lodge

Landlords, now great celebration not in a girl,

The woman, her hame never, never spoken oh it means

Meaning pearl, not rag doll, but full of great love

For daughter and man, she works behind her fence

Hidden from neighbors, she pulls those weeds, she’s

Gardner of her backyard, her desire to make flowers

Bloom, at age sixty-three she’s limber with the yoga pose

Bent to bring beauty back to the land forgotten when a child

So young, then went off to college, at sixty she retired

Then for three years to rest, into her garden stepped

Knelt in prayer to pull weeds like pulling her husband’s

Back and neck into place, but now it’s hers, to be great

A Gardner, her religion given back because she rested

Now finds living beings in the earth with sky hidden

Behind another all-day cloud, she bends unlike any woman

Ever seen at sixty, she is limber, sits to belong to the earth

Here is a long line of poems, such as beauty given over

To her beauty in a straw hat, long blue sleeves of a shirt

I have given to her so long ago to cut grass with our

Electric mower, no gas fumes in the precious garden, earth

The domain where she will mow, plan goodness in flower

No reckless weeds at last that conquered her for eleven

Years, now full of love she pulls, rejects weeds, though

Living beings, they have no place in beauty she has

Planed, she will complete before her husband leaves

Before he dies adding to soil perhaps in another garden

Before the two must part, he has brought her child

Now her own respect for living beings, butterfly, back

Catipiller, to winged again, husband picture of a butterfly

Complete in their own garden, the complete family set apart.

Garden grown, front yard maintained, back grows again

All is good, all is earth all is earth, all are dirt, clay went,

All is golden brown and

black from years of mulch, years

Proceeding now as she bends, brings her own life back.

Charles Taylor 05-20-2018

Published by elgwynone

I was a University and community college instructor before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read. View more posts

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