MAP
#94
II.
Featured Poetry Theme: Back to School
1.
The Paths of Glory Lead. . . .
for
Janis Canion
Senior
English, 1971 by Frank Pool
Remember
when you took us out that day
Across
the street--the headstones of the graves
Stood
straight, or skewed, engraved with Thomas Gray
Upon
our memories, high school elegies
In
small town churchyards? Memory saves
The
small events; commenting on your marriage’s
Political
strife, when I remarked that to run
Against
your spouse would make “estranged bedfellows,”
You
smiled. And I am older now than you
Were
then, I’ve taught for almost twenty years,
Have
loved bright flashes of a girl’s eyes, or slow
And
steady progress of a boy to man who
Remembers,
that lesson so long ago you gave,
That
words outlast the weeping at the grave.
Frank
Pool
2.
Measure Time by Cynthia Hudson
Measure
time. In days, weeks, months, years.
When
I was a child, my elders told me,
"The
older you get, the faster it goes."
Of
course, I didn’t understand.
Time
meant nothing to me.
I
was too busy playing.
A
little school, some friends,
endless
days of convenient routine.
As
I got a little older and got my driver’s license,
time
became more relevant.
How
many more years until college?
What
life,
in
the whole spectrum of possibilities,
would
I lead?
The
future was as vast and empty as the West Texas sky.
And
waiting made the years stretch by so slowly.
After
a time, I became complacent.
I
could drive anywhere, anytime.
I
was a middle-class American working wife
and
one day I realized that my spectrum of choices
had
largely been a product of the given circumstance -
not
a part of some greater plan.
Time
became just what it was.
A
minute a minute. A day a day. A year a year.
Several
of those passed.
One
day I suddenly became panicked.
I’d
missed all my chances.
None
of my choices had mattered.
The
spectrum had gone black and white.
And
all I could do was remember.
I
remembered falling off my bike on Lamplight Bridge when I was 12.
Totally
destroyed my knee,
but
got up and rode home anyway.
I
remembered that like yesterday.
Not
over 20 years before.
How
well I remembered Randy
lifting
me out of the back of his El Camino
down
at Surfside Beach
and
carrying me over the threshold of womanhood.
How
well I knew how long ago that was!
A
lot of womanhood had happened in the blink of an eye.
The
years ahead suddenly pressed upon me,
trying
to get past,
demanding
happiness,
demanding
satisfaction,
demanding
action.
So
I took some action.
I
examined my life inside out
and
was happy to find much there to keep -
my
children, my home, my choice.
I
also summarily discarded much.
Including
a long marriage and a lengthy employment.
The
spectrum again was broad and colorful -
but
the future was all over me.
Upon
surviving the pain of separation from that
which
I’d distanced myself,
the
future became less like a threatening Doberman,
biting
at my heels,
and
more like an eager Sheepdog,
urging
me along.
Now,
another five years have passed.
I
measure time by the size of my children.
Still
children -
their
futures beautiful and frightening.
But
they don’t notice.
They’re
too busy playing.
They’re
lucky.
And
I only hope that I will look back some day,
when
I really am old,
and
find that I’ve filled the time well.
Cyndie
Macon-Hudson
3.
Because you're my Ava by Matt Wellon
Sat
for tremolo voice.
every
brilliant
boy hell-bent on head
smiled
big wide gum smiles.
i
knew both of four of them.
both
were named ben.
one
did square roots
in
kindergarten.
i
was so jealous.
They
fell for his lanky varsity team jacket
my
angel walks by too. (twice)
walks
right by me with out looking
grinning
beckon to exit.
i
open my mouth wide
at
her blackandwhitecracklingfilm body
and
her cheeks hold words better than books.
all
of those people
i
once knew came over to the table.
riding
a pent-up high.
smashing
1/2 and 1/2 milk packages.
did
you want to talk about movies?
well.
i love the coffee, even though it tasted a little dirty tonight.
the
waitress ran out without bringing a check.
but
we paid anyway.
i
want to talk about food.
about
how my body becomes cream
when
she provokes me right.
because
she's ava
and
i love her.
matt
wellin