summers were thick with dragonflies
Grandma Audrey would bake
Russian teacakes.
The bullheads would circle
our inner tubes and the bloodsuckers
just sucked.
The waves would slap the shore
and the loons would cry
changing us all, forever.
© 2011
Archive for memories
“Buddy” by Keven Bellows
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Photo, Poetry with tags Keven Bellows, L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, memories, photography, poetry blogs, VC Ferry, vcferry.com/, writers on January 30, 2011 by lkthayer
I sometimes think the Jim he is becoming
may be the Jim who was. Buddy
swinging on a fence
around a New England clapboard
with a wide porch, where
his grandfather rocked rain or shine.
Summers in Still River away from parents–
Buddy’s happiest hours. When not
sitting with the man in the rocker,
retired by alcohol long before his time,
he was practicing his swing
with a found golf club
on the course behind the property,
scrounging balls to earn pocket change.
Always easiest on his own, Buddy thrived
in this odd company that included Emerson and Thoreau,
favorites of his wellborn grandfather,
a 19th century gentleman, who left him
an abiding affection for men of few words—
memories undiminished through eight decades.
More boy at the gate
eager for adventure,
than the grandfather he now is,
Jim’s reservoir of resilience is Buddy,
whose arrival incites the onset of summer,
lazy days lengthening, lure of tall grass,
leaves turned inside out looking for rain.
Unfailingly courteous, grateful
for love that surrounds without confining,
the solitary boy reclaims the man,
makes us comfortable on the porch,
while he makes for the fence
across an invisible lawn.
© 2011
“Gramma Barbara’s Pie” by Candice Rosales
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Poetry with tags apple pie, candice rosales, fruit, gramma, L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, memories, missing, women poets on December 19, 2010 by lkthayer
Barb is out of the pie-making business.
I am broken and disjunct struck dumb
in cold kitchen with no heart.
Oh, Barb.
The spot on tart-sweet of her apple
won’t greet the burnished maples.
Not this fall.
No taut crusts cut and rolled in dusky
morning hours while we slept
rock-like cranking out
nutmeg and clove-addled dreams.
under warm blankets of cold comfort.
crisco cans and pyrex tins marked
sunday like a waxing crescent.
What now, Barb?
I lack the exactitude to
carry on your craft.
My pumpkin curdles to repellent chunks.
My crust is stubborn and overworked.
My graceless fingers rip and poke
what you coaxed instantly to perfection.
The sweetness you dotted and dusted
is gone.
And I’d trade anything at all
for one more bite.
© 2010
“At The Lake” by L. K. Thayer (family foto montage by Kelly Pratt)
Posted in Poetry with tags childhood, detroit lakes, family, fruit, Kelly Pratt, L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, Leslie Thayer Mann, Lisa Thayer, memories, Minn., women poets on October 2, 2010 by lkthayer(“The Big Kids and The Little Kids”)
(Mitch Thayer, Kelly Pratt, Leslie Thayer, Lisa Thayer, Kari Pratt, Steve Pratt, Grandpa L. G. Pratt)
we rode upon broomstick horses
galloping through the thick thorn forest
dragonflies hovering
plucking the plumpest raspberries
ripe and sweet from the crowded bushes
generously heaving
(Mitch & Steve)
inexhaustible, our imaginations
followed every footprint
our shadows danced,
lit by the man in the moon
we left no stone or cartwheel unturned
felt the moss squish between our toes
washed our bare feet in the sand
of the blue lake
gleaming
she was always there to greet us
and make friends again
the lake,
loyal and lucid, the sound of her
reassuring shore beckoned
waiting to cup us in her watery hand
guiding us
float our dog paddling cherub bodies
teaching,
as her loving waves caressed
our rosebud cheeks
(Grandma Audrey & Westie)
beautiful, bountiful, bliss filled summers
roll off my memory like pearls dropping
one by one, off a necklace in need of repair
memories,
I gather up and tuck safely
in a jewel box
just as my grandmother Audrey
would’ve done
in the dense lilting air
mosquito bitten arms wave
in remembrance of innocence
of youth unencumbered
the balmy summers of nature’s breast
beating like the wings
of a morning dove
soft, gentle, humid
clinging to the child
in all of us
© 2010
Thank you cousin,
“The Hidden Picture” by Roz Levine
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Photo, Poetry with tags father's day, L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish, L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, memories, photography, Roz Levine, women poets, writers on June 21, 2010 by lkthayer
I hid my face like a turtle
Scrunching facial features
Deep into my collar bone
Turning my head from view
When daddy dropped me
At Queens College
When I scurried from his white truck
When I prayed no one I knew
No one who knew me
No one who could gossip
Rumor mills of my life
Would see the truth
How I arrived
At this university
Of higher learning
In a truck driven by my father.
Bye Sis, dad would say
Have a good day
You too, dad
I’d mumble
Too selfish and stupid
To get the facts, ma’am
That he had a back breaking
Ball busting day ahead of him
With ten hours of hard work
Lifting heavy packages
Loading boxes and goods
Driving in New York’s snarled traffic.
Then
I was too young and unaware
To understand the concept of family
How a loving dad got up early
To drive me to school
How he’d arrive home
To have supper with us
Kiss my mom
Kiss me and my brother
Kiss us with his dirty hands
With his grease stained work clothes
Kiss us so we’d know
He’d be there for us
Always
Dirty clothes
Dirty hands
Dirty truck
All of him
Would always be there
No matter what he drove
No matter what he carried in this life.
© 2010
“It Was The Sweetness I Was After” by Ariana Trinneer
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Photo with tags anxiety, fear, L. K. Thayer's Poetry Juice Bar, L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish, memories, skeleton trees, wishes on June 7, 2010 by lkthayer
It was the sweetness I was after.
The unfettered taste
of something present wrapped
and full of potential.
Yesterday I hung my bones out to dry
in the winter sun.
Clean and white they burned
like the bleach eaten rocks
we used to skip along the river.
Do you remember
when we laughed all the time
or is that just something I made up?
The accumulation of memory is useless
and that’s the bald headed truth.
A collection of spent seeds
to bury,
wishes
to blow.
It’s still me deep down,
It’s still me.
but there’s never any time now for knee buckling gazes,
when the world ricochets—
a flock of black words
against the window pane.
And the gap in my chest stretches so wide
that my hands gripping shoulders
over crossed chest
are not enough.
If I could just shake out
the misconceptions,
let them fly
with this northern wind
through the skeleton trees,
let loose the metallic taste
of disillusion
until my thoughts run sweet.
There is a big difference
between fearing the worst
and believing the best.
© 2010
“Truth In The Telling” by Julie Dolcemaschio
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Photo, Poetry with tags angels, Julie Dolcemaschio, L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, memories, solace, truth, VC Ferry, writing on March 19, 2010 by lkthayer
Truth spoke of the past
When northern lights
Were the new high
And patches on life rafts
Were a contribution worth noting
It told of days
Filled with sex and jealousy
But the demon sword-swallowers
Were the ultimate draw
A walk on the beach at midnight
Meant words were spoken quickly
And only then never to be uttered again
The luminescent waves
Would record the honey-filled poems
For their gift to live by
The quill speaks of the present
And finds solace in the memory of words
If the truth as she knows it can be written down
Then it stays forever true
So sayeth the brave lass
In possession of the dry pen
I am 20,000 leagues out of my league
And the time for goodbyes comes and goes
But the suffering lingers
Who will speak of the future when
Angels are so hard to find
I have met my share
And have a few perched on my shoulder
One who tells me of the past
And two who will show me the future
It will hold Grenache and frozen grapes
On a hot summer day
If they are lucky
And if it is true
That there is one man for every woman
And one woman for every man
I should like to snare the right choices
In a net of their choosing
So that happiness can be read
Even when the pen runs dry
The gift lives her own truth now
Truth drives the pen to run free
© 2010
“A Passion Play” by L. K. Thayer
Posted in Photo, Poetry with tags childhood, dancing, embrace, girlfriends, innocence, L. K. Thayer's Poetry Juice Bar, memories, passion, photography, play, training bras, VC Ferry on March 9, 2010 by lkthayer
we twirled and we danced
she led, I followed as best I could
as memories burst forth
from childhood
in the days that turned into mirrors
when life was full of innocence
of daisy chains & training bras
hopscotch & hula hoops
can we ever recall the steps
that have been
erased by worn out saddle shoes
can we embrace
how nothing mattered
& everyday
was a passion play
All Rights Reserved
© 2010
“Silver Rain” by Mitch Hicks
Posted in Guest Squeeze, Photo, Poetry with tags L. K. Thayer's Poetry Juice Bar, Lordspanks, memories, photography, rain, reflecting, thoughts on March 2, 2010 by lkthayer
“Thoughts like rain settling on silver
Moveable and reflecting
Sometimes you want to touch them
Yet we wipe them away so easy
But the rain always brings them back”
© 2010
“The Past” by L. K. Thayer
Posted in Photo, Poetry with tags black & white photography, L. K. Thayer's Poetry Juice Bar, melancholy, memories, obsolete, past, pay phone, regret on February 13, 2010 by lkthayer
the past
is always behind us
one step
one step forward
two steps back
it follows us, waiting in the wings
it sleeps next to us in bed
it greets us in the morning
sometimes with regret
sometimes with longing
and melancholy
sometimes with beaming rays
of remembrance
it’s always there
waiting
for us
to recollect
and call collect
All Rights Reserved
© 2010
