The Window's Story

 —Poetry by Julie A. Dickson, Exeter, NH
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Julie A. Dickson

 

 

GIVE HIM A BONE

I didn’t know
what paddy-wack meant
and I never had a dog
but rolling home
is something we all know
after back woods parties

listening to guitars, singing
Dead songs under the stars;
even saw Aurora Borealis once
sky lit up almost like midday,
kids singing and drinking.

I’ve rolled my brother home
a few times, cleaned up his sick
so mom wouldn’t know, but she did
and then wouldn’t you know,
they got a dog for him and now
I know what paddy-wack means.

My brother hits and kicks that dog,
as much as dad hits him.
I just stay quiet, under the night sky,
look out my window singing softly.

 

 

 

 

WINDOW HAS A STORY TO TELL

Watch pale filmy curtain billow
framed against my bedroom window,
each small gust of air like breath,
from my bed I hear the sea, its

story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.

Footfalls echo, wooden treads
past walls of faded paper threads
vantage point near rocky shore,
through open window seabirds tell

story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.

Obscured by fabric window frame,
sunset glows as candle flame,
charcoal etched upon a cloudless sky,
gauzy curtain coats my dream, a

story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.

 

 

 

 

BREW

Darkly rich
fragrant words
percolating

Mother’s ancient coffee pot
basket and hollow rod
glass knob mesmerized
eyes locked on each swish

Black ink
touched paper
words in time

Looked up, noticed an expression
on my face, failed to recognize
an inner writer—scribed lines
I couldn’t have spoken aloud

Swish again
metronomed
synchronized

Notebook filled with verse
poured from me, coffee to cup
richly brewed, burning hot
and just as dark

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Begin challenging your assumptions. Your assumptions are the windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in awhile or the light won’t come in.

—Alan Alda

__________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Julie Dickson for today’s fine poems and for sending us photos to go with them~

 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

 

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