I make no claims
of brilliance or elegance
only of white walls
and handmade furniture
of lavenders blooming
and roses climbing
outside my window,
even in winter
I know of tadpoles and lizards,
snakes and crayfish
of flint rocks and red clay
passion fruit and sumac berries.
I have tasted sand,
caressed hawk feathers
and scarred my knuckles
while building barbed wire fences
I walked the halls of academia,
succeeded, so they tell me,
because of my memory
and ability to read people
but somehow I have failed
to understand the appeal
of leather cases, concrete,
high heel shoes
and gray wool skirts.
I have felt this and wondered why. You have painted a poem that many can identify with. When I traded my flannel shirts for brooks brothers–I traded more that I knew.
Check out my latest–Sometimes the Mist of the Mountains.
Scot
Scot,
Thanks.
I saw your wonderful poem over on the bridge and have left a comment for you, but let me say again that it is completely awesome. I’d recommend it to anyone and your site as well!
Nochipa
Thanks so much–I have linked your site on mine. You my friend are the awesome one –I am a fan…your voice and style are fresh as…
Thank you, Scot.
Nochipa
Loved this one too. again i felt linked with the poem..You have a way of touching hearts of every day people….i too hate wool skirts, never wore high heals …
loved my vist to your poetry…beautiful work..
wonderful poem but i am not objective here.
“when i was just a little young boy
papa said son youll never get far
i’ll tell you the reason if you wanta know
theres really not very far to go”
some grateful dead song
not a dead head but those lines kinda stuck
Thank you for sharing those lyrics. I’ve never really listened to Grateful Dead, but those are some pretty powerful words in such a small package.
Nochipa