POEM #30- BYGONES

I've been writing poems all month with Mary Lee. 

Tonight is the last one. 

I adore my dear friend

And she is an amazing poet

but this is hard work for me

and I'm glad it's over. Phew!

"family"

generally

 a snap happy clicker 

shouts 

"Say cheese"

and  there is time
to move closer

suck in the gut

 lift the chin

smile broadly

but occasionally

the camera is too quick

smiles do not have time to fix

a sliver of doubt 

a gleam uncertainty

are captured for all time

Not all families

take happy pictures

(C)  Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #29-BYGONES

"Anniversary"

Really, my love?

You don't remember

how we slipped rings
onto each other's fingers

in front of Judge Hobbs
that day some fifty years ago?

Or how I licked the sticky frosting
off your fingers after we cut the cake?
How the tin cans on the bumper
rattled as we drove away
from the church that afternoon?

Well, perhaps you remember
me carrying you across the threshold
or the musty wet-dog smell
of the rug in our motel room
on our honeymoon that weekend?
Do you remember how your father
bought dinner for us that first night?
His eyes tears as he handed me
the folded twenty-dollar bill
our first night as man and wife,
"Have a steak on me, tonight," he said.

Do you remember laying next
to me in the bed that first night
or ten thousand after that?
How our bodies fit together,
knew each other,
Loved,
created life,
loved,
warred,
loved again.

Today's our anniversary, dear.

Surely you remember us?

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #28- BYGONES

"Round and Round"

Can you see me 

there on the left

in the white sailor cap?

I'm just back

from traveling the globe

on a navy frigate

Why would I care

about watching

three cars go round 

a miniscule 

dirt track

when I have moved in

much bigger circles?

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #27- BYGONES

"Someone"

Folks always said

I was the smart sister,

I'd be someone.

Doctor?

Lawyer?

College professor?

I absolutely knew 

they were right.

And now I've proven it

I'm headed west

to be someone…

A farmer's wife!

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #26- BYGONES

"TRAILBLAZERS"

He says we need
a photograph of us
headed west
to stake our claim and so

I plop the stetson
on top of my pompadour
slide the rifle across my knee
rest my hand on my hip
put a little swagger
into my smile

the slight gap between us?

I wonder
whether it will
widen
or
narrow
as we forge
this trail.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #25- BYGONES

"Homesick"

In late summer
Mother and I
ride the train East
heat rises off the tracks
making them dance and bend and blur
And our coach car
is stifling
almost unbearable

even so,
when we get to the dorms
Mother unpacks my trunk
and makes me don
my new winter coat
with the high fleece collar
along with the matching Cossack's hat
and fur-lined gloves

I tell her I look ridiculous
point out the white flowers
in the stone planter
on the patio
just behind me
protest that I am suffocating

but Mother insists on a picture
I will not go home again
until June
and we both know
we are in
for a long
cold
winter

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #24- BYGONES

"Regrets"

Ma told me not to cut my hair
she said after years of growing
she was sure I would regret it
and besides it would take forever,
at least five years, to grow back

but that Friday night
four of us were lounging in Alice's bedroom
drinking cherry cokes
and gossiping about who was going to ask who
to the Spring Formal

and all of a sudden
totally out of the blue Alice said
that we should all cut our hair
because we would look like the girls in the magazines
and besides, it would be much cooler
and more comfortable when we played tennis
this summer

it seemed like a good idea
so Alice got her ma's sewing scissors
and we started chopping away
Alice said we should cut mine first
because it would take the longest

her ma came in when
we were halfway through
eighteen inches gone
off the left side
she gasped and said,
"Your mother is not going to be happy"

and she was partially right
my mother was not happy
she went in her bedroom
and cried when she saw me
but then she came back out
and helped me finish the right side
so at least it would be even

when she was done
she showed me a picture from Harper's
I really do look like all of those college girls
out on the tennis courts
but then I went in my bedroom and cried
Alice was probably right
it will be cooler when we play tennis
but my ma was right too

I miss my hair.


(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #21- BYGONES

"Ah, life!"

So there you are
eyes fixed on the ball
glove in ready position
anticipating your
next big catch

and all the while
the fella standing
right next to you
is considering
his options

seemingly unaware
that he is about
to thump you
right in the
family jewels

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #20- BYGONES

"Pa's Lament"

And so her ma dresses her up
all pretty-like
in that sunsuit
and ruffled bonnet
and sets her down
in front of me,
"Ain't she pretty, Pa
take her picture!"

And of course
i smile
and put the camera
to my eye
and try to capture
that cowlick
the stubborn smile
and those dimpled knees

all the while
thinking about
sun-parched crops
economic downturn
unsavory neighbors
and world wars

wondering how
her pa can
possibly protect
all that sweetness
from  the world's
hard.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #19- BYGONES

"Varmint"

I'm supposed to watch
four-legged critters
the ones that smell
like warm grass
and say baaaa,
They never pull my hair
although they do occasionally
nip or give me a quick kick
when I annoy them.

This one?
I can't take my eyes
off him for a minute.
He's eating my breakfast kibble
or pulling my hair
or crossing the highway.
And I'm always barking and pulling.
Like a good friend should.

I'm kinda glad
when he puts on
these  boots today.
They slow that varmint down
Just a little.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM 18-BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona. We're three days past the halfway point, and so far I've written every day…

"Movin' On"

for now, a pedal car's swell,

but soon, I'll move on 

to bigger and better

I'll need a scooter

a flashy red bike

and then perhaps

I'll build a go-cart

to be followed 

by a Model T

a guy's gotta 

make his way

in the big,

wide world…

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #23- BYGONES

"Someday"

Yes, I know you told me

those light colored pants

would not wear well

they would show

every bit of dirt

and we wouldn't be able

to get the spots out

and then after I bought them

with the money I earned sweeping

the back room at Hoffsteter's Grocery

you said I should definitely not wear them

except on Easter Sunday

and yes, I know the $6 I spent

on the straw hat like Grandpa's

was ridiculous too

I should have put it in savings bonds

and now, here I am

standing out in the yard

in my unwashable

light colored pants

 there's a mud streak

on the back of the left leg

and you are absolutely right

it probably won't come out

and I have only worn the hat once

to church on Easter Sunday

and all the guys made fun of it

and I was embarrassed,

and I probably shouldn't have bought it

I know I won't wear it very often

but there are some times

a guy's gotta consider

who he might wanna be

someday

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #22- BYGONES

"Wary"

Some folks admire

my bay coloring,

massive chest,

white socks.

Others criticize 

my Roman nose

laid back ears

 iffy disposition.

I don't know which 

kind of folks

you are

and so I'm wary.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #17- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona. We're two days past the halfway point, and so far I've written every day…

"Meeting"
So Ma snapped this picture
out in the middle of the corral
I think it was my junior year
in high school,
but I might have been a senior

it's a nice picture
and I hung it over my desk
when I moved away
and missed all that
furry love

but this photo
out in public
with everyone watching
and shouting at us
to smile and say cheese
that's not how it really was

mostly, we three,
were a team
and we lived quiet

whenever life got too big
when Alice Brown dumped me
eleven days after she said
she couldn't wait to get married
when I didn't make first team basketball
(my brother always did)
when Pa told me that
being an artist wasn't a career
and I better figure out
a way to make a living

I'd go out and sit on the fence
or on a hay bale in the barn
just kinda quiet like
and pretty soon
that old brown mare
would come up and nuzzle my hand
she was always checking for an apple or a carrot
or her favorite, a lump of sugar that
I stole from ma's blue china bowl

and the dog-- I always fed her,
and so she decided
when she was just a pup
that she was mine--
she'd somehow squeeze her way
between the horse and me
leaning against my legs
and hoping for a good scratch
under the old leather collar
with the broken buckle
that we never quite
got around to replacing

and the three of us
would hold a private meeting

we'd confer
until we solved
the world's problems

and life was good again

(C) Carol Wilcox

POEM #16- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona. We've reached the halfway point, and so far I've written every day-- it's been hard for me, but I'm hanging in there. 

"Recital"

ma says there'll be no baseball
or fishin in the creek

'til after i play my violin

she tells me to take a bath
scrub my fingernails extra good
get all that dirt from around the corners
everyone's comin' over
an' she wants me to perform

and then she dresses me up
in tight collared shirt
and stiff Sunday shoes

sits me on this hard kitchen chair
hot August sun beatin' down
on the back of my neck

and i scrape away

while the worms I collected last night
listen from their seats
in the can on the back porch

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #15- BYGONES

"Doubting Thomas"

it seems highly improbable

that life dreams could fly

on such flimsy gossamer wings

it is perhaps much more probable

that such dreams would crash 

headlong into reality 

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #14- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona.

"Glory Years"

In those days I was
captain of the team
master of the ball
my confident smile
forecast weekend plans--
a win on the basketball court
followed by a chocolate soda
spinning the stool to face
my latest conquest

Today I am
captain only of scorched fields
I spin grains of parched wheat
in dry, cracked palms
joy has been eclipsed by weather,
worries, and prayer pleas
for rain, a plentiful crop
one more year of plenty

When did it go awry?

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #13- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona.

"Lament"

His horn shiny
his notes melodic
his friends harmonize

Me?

Alone
I scrape gum
from the bottom
of my shoe.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #12- BYGONES

"Green"

the prairie
in fall
so much brown
brown
browngold
goldbrown
gold

the prairie
in winter
so much
white
bluegray
whitebluegray
white

when i cannot bear
the monotone palettes
any longer
i plant
drag clay pot
from window
to window
following
weak winter sun
drip water
over dry dirt
and wait
to feel life
life spirit
green
brush
against
my fingertips.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #11- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona.

"Pa"

I'm grinning broad here leanin' 
against the bumper of the Chevy 
actually only a couple of hours before 
the hard rains drowned my young seedlings

that night i sat on the back porch 

sobbing like I did on the day my pa died.

what's  a 12-year-old boy 
s'posed to do without a pa?

the rivers on my cheeks

mixed with the rivers from the sky
and I couldn't decide whether 
I should sell the car and buy more seed
or pack the car and move to town
get a job with a real paycheck

what's a farmer
s'posed to do without a crop?

i'm still here,
me and my car.
we made it. 

another year.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #10- BYGONES

I'm writing poetry this month with Mary Lee Hahn, Kevin Hodgson, Steve Peterson, and Carol Varsalona. Today I went to Colorado Springs, spent the day with my mom, then struggled and finally wrote two kinda poems. I guess some days are like that.

"Relativity"

that sky
infinite

those clouds
ominous

those crops
extensive

we humans
infintesimal

(C) Carol  Wilcox, 2016




Untitled

we exclaim over
vast wheaty wealth
that stretches
as far as we can see

we do not realize
foreboding gray clouds
fill the sky

directly behind us

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #9-BYGONES

"The Zoo from Here?"

In Denver

they have a zoo

Folks pay

to go look 

at the animals.

why on earth

would we need that?

there are

black and white herbivores

our own personal 

zebras of the plains

everywhere I look.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #8- BYGONES

April is National Poetry Month. For the past four years, I have joined my friend Mary Lee, at POETREPOSITORY and YEAR OF READING in writing a poem every day for a month. This year, Mary Lee's theme is BYGONES. She has selected thirty vintage photographs from a collection she found at her mom's house in Burlington, Colorado, and is writing from one photograph every day. I'm not sure if I will write from Mary Lee's photographs every day, or if I will see if I can find some of my own. For the past few years, we have been joined by several other amazing poets- Kevin Hodgson and Steve Peterson. 

"Feeding Time" 

my chickens wait 

by the gate

knowing

if they are patient

I will scatter corn

across the ground 

in haphazard flings

they are much

more patient

than the hungry children

waiting

at my 

dining room 

table.

Is it any wonder

I choose 

to feed 
the chickens 
first? 

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016

POEM #7- BYGONES

April is National Poetry Month. For the past four years, I have joined my friend Mary Lee, at POETREPOSITORY and YEAR OF READING in writing a poem every day for a month. This year, Mary Lee's theme is BYGONES. She has selected thirty vintage photographs from a collection she found at her mom's house in Burlington, Colorado, and is writing from one photograph every day. I'm not sure if I will write from Mary Lee's photographs every day, or if I will see if I can find some of my own. For the past few years, we have been joined by several other amazing poets- Kevin Hodgson and Steve Peterson. 

"Rose"

I'm a prim and proper gal

I know my place
crimping a pie crust over sweet cinnamon apples
bathing babies in the washtub on the kitchen table
sitting next to my Joe in the pew on Sunday mornings 

And yet…

I don't want anyone

to think me staid or stodgy

So when Verla shows up
in front of my house
in a model T,

no, that's not right,

when Verla shows up 

driving a car

and says, "Come on Rose,

we're going to lunch,"

I call to Joe
and tell her sure, 

and get my hat
and my pocket book

and my white gloves

just like any proper lady would

and then I climb in
right behind Mary Katherine,
and Gloria

and even Ruth
who really is staid and stodgy
and we all pose
for a photograph

I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016