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Papa's Porch
| Open Poetry #30 |
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Papa's Porch |
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
Papa’s Porch The cross-sawn planks were aged by nature’s tears Ends of feathered boards lay bare Rough hewn timbers their staffs support afford The strength of simplicity so pure. Each lay nestled near the next And nailed with prairie care The sturdy porch resided still Made hearty as its builders to endure. The gravel path for moving cars held none For only guests would stir its course As it docked its path next to the steps That led up to that house so crude. It was not the porch that made the house Or the house that made the porch, Nor did the timeless features of its face Beckon me there in social interlude. I loved the highway near and night so close As passing trucks their loads whirred by, Sitting in old oak-boned rocking chairs That creaked and cried and moaned. I loved the old tin roof that sang With rain’s sweet lullaby, Cold water from the chilled tin cup, And feather beds from threads hand-sown. It was not the porch that made the house Or the house that made the porch. It was Papa standing there to greet us with tender smile and whitened hair. Though house and he are long since gone—he is forever there. |
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| © Copyright 2003 Steaven R Snow - All Rights Reserved | |||
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WildPoet Member
since 2003-11-10
Posts 205California |
This brings up images of life gone by, Thanks WildPoet |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
awesome memories thanks for sharing |
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Patricia Member Elite
since 2003-04-06
Posts 2160Missouri |
I love this! I have been incredibly nostalgic of late, blame it on the season to come or the season of my life, but memories persist in my mind and often surface in poetry. I am glad your memory did just that for it gave us this lovely poem. I am so glad your are enjoying Passions because I am certainly enjoying your work. Patricia |
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
Thank you for taking time to read and comment. This was, indeed, a nostalgic cleansing for me. My grandfather's porch holds for me special memories of simpler days and far simpler ways. This one was for me. |
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