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Open Poetry #47
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Going South
| Open Poetry #47 |
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Going South |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
(A poem about a trip I took, from my home in northern Pennsylvania, to North Carolina in March of this year) Going South . Starting where the neck bones of Alleghany Conjunct with the spine of Appalachia; If you look to the right, snow melting Slows crab scuttle in the Chesapeake- To the left, thins the chocolate Mississippi; A divide of sorts, but not continental. Steering off the grade, maneuvering near-April, The ground remains white--lingering with winter. Down the valley of Susquehanna, the rivers name Speaks beauty on each exhale, on inhale Is apology asking forgiveness, as where I ride Is where the water yearns to be..not channeled; Its needs stifled, by men moving onward- It desires to purge its banks of winters trash, It longs to replenish, bottoms with silt and topsoil, And I am part-responsible for stopping it So I pray it forgive me, and keep driving- Forward a hundred miles, and out of snow Into brown grass showing, the gap between Alive and dead--ever south, the mercury rising Above freezing as I pass the warring grounds Of Gettysburg-then crossing the Mason/Dixon That once divided blue from gray countrymen; At quiet attention..without movement I salute Whitman's beseech, to his dead captain, And that captains speech about humanities destiny. Maryland in late march is normal, somewhat budded But still north in appearance; the earth is a debutante Deep in thought, of what's coming, thinking About the spring cotillion-knowing her prince Will be there; her thoughts are of flowery dresses The kind that make deep impressions; He is at home choosing bright regalia, with light green edges. The trail leads to a sign "Welcome to West Virginia" And first forsythias in yellow dresses, with pansy petticoats. Each several miles, the temperature rises, one digit degree... Now thirty nine, I open the window to breathe in the spring But March still has its bully way-- deletes what is seen By sighting through glass, the opening act of menageries; Sixty miles further, and everything changes, the first scent Of new-mown grass emits from the battlefield of Winchester Where brothers blood mixed-flowed into the Shenandoah; Medic tents filled with the dying, crying for the same mother. Crossing into North Carolina, a state of strong accent; A waitress asks me "would ya'all lak som pah" Knowing it is pie she speaks of, I refuse the offering; I am in the "true" south now--land of tobacco and cotton; The people accept my Yankee speech, and are friendly- I am alien here, but they understand my language. Now the earth reveals spring color, Cercis and Cornus mix Magenta with alba; I call their common names to my lover- Pointing..but the redbuds, and dogwood hide hue From her eyes; yet show themselves by my pure desire- For them to be seen-The buds are suggestions Of what is to be, the flowers are tiny-fist infants But are shown fully open, on my minds movie screen. I feel joy (they know), so they show me their faces- As coming attractions on earths gray marquee, As we travel south, in search of full spring. |
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| © Copyright 2011 ford hume - All Rights Reserved | |||
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
Magnificent write, my friend. My favorite by you thus far... j. |
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2islander2 Member Ascendant
since 2008-03-12
Posts 6825by the sea |
very impressive Ice, I loved it and recognized some travel points in US, thanks for the magnificent share. yann |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Wow, Ford! My least favourite subject at school was Geography (well, regional geography - I loved geomorphology and the solar system, and weather patterns and physical geography) - but had you been my Geography teacher and infused regional geography with aesthetics, life, ponderings and poetry, I would have loved it maybe most! This was beautiful and I experienced it all so clearly with all my senses. Thank you for the magical trip! Owl |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I have read a poet by the name of Kooser... excuse me, Sir... are you Ted? ~*~ Ah, my friend Ford...thank you. This was better than a drive in the country, and I am pleased to know that You still refer to your partner as your lover. Ted would be proud, indeed! Every stanza, I wanted to stop and point it out to you... you, who wrote it.  Thank you! I'm so danged glad you're back!!! |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
Blanket Thank Yous, seem so impersonal.. But this one is felt, and sent to each of you as individuals..individuals who liked what I wrote are precious, and special. Thank you all for your reviews.. I stand humbled in their light.. Namaste ford |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
quote: This one had slipped me by and I am glad I read it now. This is so rich and beautifully inspiring, that all I want to do now is getting out of the house and travel! I only quoted the above because it really speaks to me so intensely, but the whole poem is enthralling. Love, Margherita |
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