No closet pocketed the clothes back then, so
his bed tucked in that space under the ceiling slant
where he peeled wall paper during nap time.
I imagine cowboy boots kicked careless in the corner,
hat hung on peg while Roy Rogers ticked time.
Some years later, his mom exchanged the twin for double
and lined it parallel to the window
that overlooks the field. We slept there once when we
came home to visit. The room’s so cold.
Our son’s crib nestled on that wall before it
gave way to a rollaway
and then bunks where he wrestled pillows and
hung Goldberg and Stone Cold Steve on the walls
and lined up matchbox cars OCD so. He used a fan
year ’round and burrowed under quilts.
When he left home, I moved my desk up from
the basement and placed it where I
can see the field and watch the seasons change
and view the wild life.
Here I write my stories and my memories,
and I turn a heater on in winter.
Still playing with poetry,
Sandy
Joining Tweetspeak Poetry’s Book Club as we read Glynn Young’s Poetry at Work. Today I’m responding to Glynn’s challenge in chapter 3 to find a little poetry in my workspace.
Also linking with LisaJo for Five Minute Friday (though this might be Ten Minute Friday) on the word prompt SEE.
Hi – Sandra, TAZO Wild Sweet Orange has been my obsession (one cup a day) for awhile now. Though I’ve embraced their passion tea now too. I also played with some poetry for FMF, though this time it felt harder to push publish. Somehow poetry feels a little more vulnerable to me. Thanks for sharing the picture you painted with words.
It does seem more vulnerable with its economy of words and emotions, I think. What’s kind of neat, though, is the reader brings their own vulnerability, and the words might speak to them in a whole different way. Thanks for coming by!
Love 🙂
Especially the sounds here….
“I imagine cowboy boots kicked careless in the corner,
hat hung on peg while Roy Rogers ticked time.”
And the sounds here (and the unexpected line break after “fan”)…
“and then bunks where he wrestled pillows and
hung Goldberg and Stone Cold Steve on the walls
and lined up matchbox cars OCD so. He used a fan”
My husband was all about Roy Rogers and Trigger–and I’m guessing this room smelled a little like manure.
Jeremy, my son, actually took a marker and drew a face on his pillowcase. His room often smelled like dirty basketball shoes, and he never opened his windows…
And thanks. 🙂
I like that you put your desk in your son’s room.
I love that window view–and knowing that both my husband and son dreamed in there. 🙂
Sandra, really well-done! Great use of proper nouns and objects, sense of sound; it all comes together so well.
Thanks so much, Maureen. I love it when you come by. 🙂
I grew up in a room with those slanting ceilings. Another that had the peeling wallpaper.
The coziness of those rooms with the slanted ceilings would make for a great office.
It’s what I like to think of as my penthouse–after working for so many years in the dungeon (basement.)
Our bedroom is directly across the way. The small size and slanted ceilings make furniture placement a real challenge.
“Here I write my stories and my memories,
and I turn a heater on in winter.”
This hit me. Perhaps because I’m cold. Or perhaps because somehow the tie between writing memories–hard memories–can send a chill in need of warmth. Every writer needs an electric blanket, I think. And tea. Always tea.
Good point, Ann! And maybe if we turn the heat up high enough, we can sweat those memories right onto the screen. 🙂
So many seasons seen through that window, so many memories jumping on the writing desk saying pick me…
Beautiful…..
Seasons inside and out…
Thanks, sweet friend.
Sandy, your description of the son’s play things and posters made me think they had their own kind of ‘wild life’….and now you have a different view–of an outside the window kind of wild.
Love this picture you paint.
🙂
This house was out of the family for a handful of years, but my husband and I were able to buy it back when we moved back here. I love hanging out in this room–and I wish I knew who inhabited it before my husband. I’ll ask him, but I doubt he’ll know…
And yes, once Jeremy and his friends got together in this room, there was a lot of wild life happening. Luckily nobody got hurt that I remember, although we did take plenty of trips to the ER with him. 🙂
Sandra, poetry has always frightened me, not just the unusual structure but how to write it. Writing of any other kind fascinates me and I can’t live a day without it. However, this is beautiful and poignantly written from the heart of one who loves this space for a variety of reasons. Thank you for sharing your gift of words in this way! God bless!
Thanks so much, Sherrey. You should play with it. That’s all I do. 😉
You have some mad poetry skills girl. Keep them coming off the tips of your fingers. They are good, so good. My fellow poet. Yeah.
Mad poetry skills? I don’t know about that, girlfriend. But playing with it is kind of fun. 🙂