My great-great grandfather, James G. Baxter, lived near Alpena, Michigan, in the late 1800s. He found poetry in his work as a shanty boy and wrote a poem called “The Harvest of the Pine” in 1910. Let me read it to you…
And here’s a poem I wrote a couple years ago after visiting the chapel at Hartwick Pines. The first line is the result of playing with poetry magnets with Gracee.
Green Like Worship
Green like worship
summer dreams swim
in rippled cloud ponds.
Fern fronds bow and
stately trunks stretch skyward.
Arms reach for heaven
hushed by monarch
majesty and ancient
words carved in
dusty walls by
shanty boy ghosts
seated on log pews.
Hymns echo through
pine-carpeted cathedral
and the sacred pours
into lemonade lakes.
Stilled by history and poetry,
Sandy
Celebrating Poetry at Work Day 2014 with Tweetspeak Poetry
Totally love that top picture!! 🙂
😀
How wonderful to have a poem from your grandfather! I remember my grandfather telling me stories of Ireland when I was young, but nothing was ever written down so of course they were lost. (Wish I’d known then what I know now!)
Your own poem is more the style that appeals to me. I played with my magnetic words this morning, too. I have the result displayed on the magnetic board in my office, but don’t think I’ll be posting it anywhere! LOL!
Kind of sad you’re so stubborn about sharing your poem, Carol. 😉
So many stories I wish I’d written down. I was scribbling some stuff as my dad talked one day. I kept asking more questions?
“Is this for something you’re writing?” he asked.
“No, I just don’t want to forget…
I love the repetition in your grandfather’s poem. And in yours, “shanty boy ghosts” and “lemonade lakes.”
🙂
Sandy, this is priceless! It is amazing to hear your great-great grandfather’s words come to life…words written when this technology could not have been dreamed.
And I see green is worship, too. 🙂
This poem was published in the newspaper some years ago. Such history there…
The way you read that poem warmed my heart and brought those tender beauty-tears to my eyes! Thank-you. LOVE your poem as well.
Thanks, Janet! I’m glad they were beauty tears. 😉
Miss Sandra – I forgot until just now, I have a poetry book tucked away that my great-uncle wrote. His were the first poetic words I read on my own. (so strange that I forgot that)
This is wonderful beyond compare. Do you have any idea what he looked like? Of course I see him in my mind’s eye…
Thank you for sharing this personal bit of history.
BLessings.
Thanks so much, Miss Darlene. Yes, we do have photos of him. 🙂
I hope you’ve pulled out your great-uncle’s poetry book.
I’m thinking of you today with love.
Sandra, this was so very lovely…and I understood it!!! It was wonderful to hear your voice. My father was a closet writer/creative. I can’t believe I haven’t searched through his creations that mother saved. I imagine there’s a poem in there somewhere. He made every greeting card he ever gave my mother.
So was your grandfather buried on that hill under the pines?
You know, I don’t know where he’s buried. It’s on my bucket list to find out, though.
And yes, you should search for your father’s words. I’m guessing you’ll find some beauty…