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A home without a wall, |
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A home without a wall, |
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| Open Poetry #21 |
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"Condemned" |
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Magnus
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135South Carolina, USA 
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This is a little long....but it is my heart writings....I wish to share them... A vacant wall where pictures once displayed the family within. Dust sleeping in endless areas of wooden terrain no longer touched by cloth. Vacant windows no longer smiling of the love within the walls. So many eyes had seen through these portals watching for a man called “PawPaw” to come home. Time travels on. Creaking floors groaning a welcome to tired feet having walked too many cracks on a gray cement ribbon. Compelled to this place by memories. Wandering oaks still gracing the yard with a coolness of shade which courted the minds of young boys digging through endless piles of sand in a quest for the conquering of the queen, the vanquishing of the horrible mummy who lived within a child’s cave. Tired gray knotted shed standing alone at the end of a yard which used to seem to be an endless depth, far beyond the range of the hardest ball hit by an eight year olds wooden bat. The chain link fence on the left a dreaded place to hit the ball, for old Mrs. Dean lived there. She always hated when her fence was climbed. Remembering how his heart raced as he climbed that fence, too tall for his little legs to jump easily over. Strawberries grew there, there at the end between two ancient peach trees now barren of fruit.. The highest peaches were always the sweetest… Bawberries he called those succulent red little orbs nestled within green leaves….saying pick me, pick me! So many times he brought the green ones in too. Dipped in sugar with a dash of milk…..pure heaven. Now just a patch of dry earth absorbing the sun’s rays and raising the tallest weeds…. Sadly walking back from the yard, looking up into the oaks, remembering the time a friend had fallen out, breaking his wrist. Must have been 20 feet up in the air, though now it could have been only About 10. Looking for the parachute that he made from a kerchief and a bolt. Threw it high into the air, dangling there. Even the spray from a hose could not get it down. Straining to see if it were there….Time must have gotten it down years ago. Standing in front of the house, hands in pockets, a tear falling from an older and wrinkled eye upon the cement sidewalk where miles of rides in a little red wagon had been jockeyed through the cracks. Always fighting over whose turn it was….Just one more time…..If only…He would give up his turn this time. The sun setting now, casting long shadows upon the porch. A dilapidated swing still hanging from one hook. Gosh, how many cars did he count as he swung in that swing on those cool evenings and listened to the Switch Engine in the train yard move countless cars to their next destination. Memories of a man, once a boy…..of wonderful times when the windows of a house smiled and held frames of more memories on walls that didn’t need to speak and floors that didn’t creak…. The sign on the front door told it all was coming to an end soon. One word stood out ominously….. “CONDEMNED” |
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| © Copyright 2002 Barry J. Tackett - All Rights Reserved | |||
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catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Oh my, this reaches so many memories. Beautiful Sandra |
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Mistletoe Angel 
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
 (big hugggssssss) Oh Barry, I know how bittersweet memories can be so very much, while I am happy you have shared all your wonderful memories with us I know how it must feel to see years later where everything is and be haunted by those flashbacks; every time I go to Missouri to visit my grandparents I visit their old houses and I see the old tire swings and sandboxes and kitchen room floors creak and I see tears fall down my grandparents cheeks and I know how much home meaned to them and I give them big hugs and tell them that home will awlays be where the heart is and nothing can ever change that! (BIG HUGGGSSSS) God Bless You, sweet friend, this is a long write yet I also believe it is one of your best ever because it is so honest and touches my heart deeply by its emotions, we all love you so much! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet Barry, thank you for sharing!  May love and light always shine upon you! Love, Noah Eaton "Underneath your clothes there's an endless story..." |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Soothe thee in these memories so dear For never and forever so remain unclear The days that pass by happily to toast For goodness rests more quietly than most And never to be fretful of the end For always in beside to comfort friend The days that shall remain as windows smile For now to pass in peaceful dreams a while Thank you for sharing this with us Barry. ThisDiamond |
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ShadowRider Senior Member
since 2001-07-14
Posts 1038USA |
Magnus, i hope i don't bore you with this longwinded tale, but here it is. One of my favorite houses i lived in, I got to visit a few weeks back, by accident. Travelling down the old main road that our subdivision led off from, i saw a garage sale sign, of all things, with the address of my old house on it (from my high school days). Even though my schedule was running late that day, i HAD to stop. There was the old house: trees bigger, more plants, but pretty much the same house. Inside the garage sale, there was the wall i hung my inside basketball goal where my friends and i would play with a mini-ball and 8 foot high basketball goal. I had too many old-memory relapses there to mention here, but i bought some silly glass just to justify me being in there. The lady looked at me, studiously for a couple of seconds. She must have seen, in my eyes, that i KNEW the house, like a lover knowing every square inch of the other. I walked quickly out before i would have to explain, but the feeling was eerie....laden with ghost-thoughts i thought had vanished from my brain cells. Soooo... let's just say, I understand your poem and will just stand back and read it again with an admiring gaze. jeff |
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Magnus
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135South Carolina, USA |
Jeff, thank you... That old house was where I was born, spent many days at, returned to countless times. The day I left it, I found a small bell in the ground that was from a Christmas ornament.... I don't know if that bell was part of that house....But I do know it became a part of me.... I'll never forget that house, and it still stands proudly within my mind to this day....For nothing can tear down the love of it or the memories that I experienced.... Thank You Jeff....I can't say that enough... |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
...Looking for the parachute that he made from a kerchief and a bolt. Threw it high into the air, dangling there. Even the spray from a hose could not get it down. Straining to see if it were there….Time must have gotten it down years ago. ... ~*~ It was missing because another child climbed up to get it down, wondering who threw it up in the first place, wondering, who was here before me? Wondering, will I remember this day... this, this is the house that stood outside the plum plum tree... this, this is the house of childhood memories... this... is a  |
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Jason Member
since 2002-07-31
Posts 72Macon, GA |
Magnus, You have revealed yet another facet of the gem you have for a mind. Well written and most precisely pointed out, it ended. Thank you Sir, Jason Daniels Practiced in the Art of Perception |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
Magnus, A fine piece of writing, enjoyed every word. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Barry To go back, you look with the boy and the man. Both meet at the front door, wanting to knock...feeling memory fall around ...and realizing that it is over. Even houses die. I loved this look into the play of a boy and the heart of the man. So Poignant to read, and familiar. |
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Bill Charles Member Patricius
since 2000-07-11
Posts 10619highways, & byways, for now |
Barry - very strong memories I read about. You have written this well... BC |
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