I'm a happy grandmother! I enjoy my family, my friends, and my life. I love to travel and love to post travel experiences. I like to 'piddle'. Are you familiar with that southern term? I would love to have you sign up to follow this humble blog. I need all the encouragement I can get. :)
My name is Carole.
This is the first poem I have written in 10 years. I think the fact that I posted some of my old poems may have inspired me a bit to write again. What do you think?
***Remember our next Treasure Hunt will be July 6th. Prize will be one ACEO from each participating blog.
I wanted to post this poem about Vietnam for our upcoming Fourth of July celebrations.
My father fought in WWII. Both of my brothers and my husband fought in Vietnam.
My father, one of my brothers, and my husband retired from military careers. I am proud to say that I am a service brat.
My husband went on to retire from a second career. He has flown all of his life. I want to say how grateful I am for the troops who are always dying and risking their lives to keep this country and the citizens of this country safe. I admire their dedication so much. They are a breed unto themselves and I wish there were more men and women with the character of our military troops.
God Bless Our Country! Happy Fourth of July!
Carole Shukle
Copyright 1999
Ode to The Wall
I touch your ebony face-
cold as death.
My eyes, like a camera,
zoomin onone name of
thousands you hold so lovingly.
I trace the letters
with my finger, trying
to imagine the boy
who no longer
breathes.
His family aches for him.
Stepping back,
more names
come into view
in staggering numbers.
Fifty-eight thousand
names multiplied again
by that much pain.
Your shoulders are broad
and strong to carry so many.
Thank-you
for memorializing
these men
and women
who died
for our country.
The survivors shouted
down and shunned
by our society left ugly
scars on the
psyche of America.
Where is their memorial?
**God Bless all our troops past and present--Amen.
These are photos I took of the fabulous dunes. This was long before digital cameras.
The people in the top photo shows people so that you can see how huge these dunes are.
Tomorrow is our new Treasure Hunt. It begins at 9:00 AM EST.
The Viewing
Carole Shukle
Copyright 1998.
An urgency to see my mother
in death propels
me toward her--a sleepwalker.
I admire the white birch
coffin; its simple elegant
lines so like my mother.
I envision loose skin
draped in folds
over a skeletal frame,
like surplus material
overrunning a table.
I imagine raven hair
turned gray and brittle
and clothes swamping
her now frail body.
I see swirling baby-blue
satin cushioning her eternal bed.
Etched on the lid--a stand
of poplars brings to mind
a walk in the woods.
Nostalgia fills my spirit,
until I remember her sightless
eyes.
Perusing my mother's face,
my fear vanishes like chalk
from a blackboard. My sadness
tempers. Her ebony hair curls
about her cheeks. Her glasses
perch on her nose,
as if she had fallen asleep
reading. Her skin, plum and taut,
evokes a memory of mom
in the kitchen laughing
as she whips up a cake:
a mom of more than eight years
ago, a mom I had almost forgotten.
Her empty stare now hides behind
an expression of peace.
Hesitating, I touch her granite-cold
hand. Her skin is like hardened stone
turned smooth by eons of running water.
Marble statues come to mind.
She is like a Russian egg:
yoke sucked out, a mere work
of art, no essence. I am content
to let her go.
*Published in Wordwrights!Spring, 1999.
My Mom died after being sick for 8 years. She died of complications of Alzheimer's. I am not truly convinced of this. I think she may have been trapped in her body after a series of mini-strokes, but we will never know. My Dad cared for her at home, which nearly killed him. I think I would rather have Alzheimer's and not know anything than to be awake inside my body but unable to communicate. It was a slow progression, but for the last four years she was not much more than a vegetable. She could do nothing for herself. She died in 1984. My mother was the kindest and sweetest of Mothers. I really miss her.
The great thing about poetry is that it can give the reader insight into someone's life. You can capture a moment in the life of a person.
But greater than that, is if the poem strikes a universal code. If you can achieve this, then sometimes you have actually put into words what someone else might have felt or is feeling right now.
I enjoy sharing my writing and I hope you will come back in to read it.
Reminders:
The last two posts have been poems. I love to read your comments. :) Just click on "Older Posts".
Monday will be another Treasure Hunt. This time for Beautiful Flowers. Please come and comment for a chance to win a free ACEO. Last week we had eleven qualified people to make the drawing. To be qualified, all you have to do is make the loop of participating artists. There are links to the next person in line. We would love to break that record. Can you help us do that?
It has been awhile since I have written some serious poetry. My husband tells me it is hard for me now because I am finally happy. LOL Well, whatever the truth may be, I decided to share with you some of my old poetry.
This poem was written about my daughter when she was born.I had to remember back quite a few years to remember my feelings.She was born in 1970.
Bonding
By Carole Shukle
1996
Her
Lilliputian hand,
perfect in tiny details,
grasps my thumb
and nestles there
between two
knuckles.
Miniature
pink rectangles
tip her fingers.
A tiny palm,
like a kitten’s pad,
presses against me.
Her diminutive thumb,
ripe for sucking, curls around
my own.
Tissue-paper skin
reveals minute
pulsing blue rivers.
My fingers
trace the flow.
I touch
each elfin sliver,
as the fierceness
of her grip
claims me
as her own.
*Published in The Cypress Dome, University of Central Florida, Spring, 1997.
*Published in Anthology Fifteen, FloridaState Poets Association, October, 1997.
