Haitian Tradional Dress
—Poems by Douglas Polk, Kearney, NE
—Anonymous Photos of Dresses for Haiti
—Anonymous Photos of Dresses for Haiti
JUNE AND JULY
moths and fireflies rejoice,
celebrating the darkness of night,
the air cooling after the hot summer day,
renewing and refreshing,
the adventures begin,
but only for the young,
an old man,
I've already lived,
childhood revisited with every firefly seen,
seems most of my memories include moths,
and fireflies,
only living fully,
in the months of June and July,
girls' soft warm bodies,
rock and roll,
and hot summer nights,
the images and sounds,
still hoarded in the mind,
after decades,
remembered every year,
when it is moth and firefly time.
THE FLOOD
city streets,
full of cars,
and people,
wave after wave,
a multitude of strangers,
unending,
no time to meet and greet,
with even a simple "hello",
the cynical people,
look for pretty faces,
clean fingernails,
and polished shoes,
before deciding if it’s worth the time to speak,
the day passes quickly,
the minutes tick by,
traffic lights change,
and the flood of cars and humanity,
continues unabated.
DRESSES
dresses for Haiti,
old ladies,
religious and compassionate,
create dresses for Haiti,
crippled hands,
seam hems,
over and over again,
emotions of love,
guilt, or self-righteousness,
it does not matter,
dresses for Haiti.
SPACE
I need space,
to think my thoughts,
without collateral damage,
hearts broken,
and minds disturbed,
I need space,
to close my eyes,
and feel my heart beat,
absent guilt or shame,
for being alive,
and selfish,
I need space,
to dry my tears,
face my fears,
and heal my pain,
I need space,
to stake a claim,
to a part of my life,
that is only for me,
ironically,
finally,
everyone now sees,
the space I need,
alone at last,
all alone,
in all this space.
UNWELCOME
shadows dance through the cedar and pine,
playing tag with spirits from another time,
this land and river once theirs,
their aura still present,
still strong,
honored in the sunlight,
the birds chirping,
the river and wind sounds,
in harmony,
all belong,
but me,
an intruder,
my spirit unwelcome,
dancing among the cedar and pine.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
PATHS
—Douglas Polk
in old age,
moments remembered,
lips unkissed,
promises unspoken,
paths diverged,
questions unanswered,
meeting again,
she introduces me to her grandkids,
and I introduce her to mine.
_________________
Welcome and thank you for his poems to newcomer Douglas Polk, who is a poet now living in the wilds of central Nebraska with his wife and son, one dog and three cats. Polk has had over 1000 poems published in hundreds of publications. Welcome to Medusa’s Kitchen, Douglas—don’t be a stranger—and thank you for "Dresses For Haiti", your poem about generosity of spirit.
—Medusa, celebrating new friends and new poetry, and wishing Joyce Odam a happy 95th birthday!
Douglas Polk
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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