The Broken Limbs
Rondeau
Article voiceover
The broken limbs and whispered hymns Of river ice beneath which swims The fish of long-forgotten dreams Once caught, then lost, as failure seems The sunrise where with frozen whims My frostbite fingers splinter shims And clouds from which sun-blindness dims These words on paper stacked in reams: The broken limbs. And so my mind skates round the rims Of cups in which hot coffee brims And floating clots of sweetened creams Feed stupid thoughts of silly memes While winds whip up and snow-wisp skims The broken limbs.
Jonathan, another of your wonderful poems. You are a fantastic writer, and I love your posts and creativity.
Here is my latest:
When I was young, a red-headed little munchkin, I could not or would not go to sleep without my teddy bear. To me he was much more than a pacifier blanket. Teddy was my loyal companion in all things and decisions that mattered.
At some point I grew up. WOW!!!
After being so important to me for much of my childhood, Teddy was vanquished into the dustbin of my youth.
I excelled in high school, winning a National Science Scholarship to study geology at Emory University’s geology camp in Ringold, Ga. This was at the end of my junior year. I always wanted to go to Colorado School of Mines in Golden, Colorado. However tuition was much more than I could afford, and I wound up at Clemson University in my home state of South Carolina.
Near the end of two years at Clemson, and having goofed off by playing too much bridge, along with a total lack of interest in my education, I realized that I had a real chance of being drafted which I did not want. Thus, I joined the US NAVY’s submarine service. I figured I would be 600 feet under the water, and nobody would be shooting at me. I have a very strong phobia of bullets tearing into my flesh.
After spending so much of my military time as a “squid,” I went back to Clemson and completed my degree in English and Secondary Education, and built my first house in Walhalla, SC, thanks to the GI BILL.
I was married at this time and still am to the same wonderful woman for 57 years. We had two children, a son and a daughter. My daughter, Meg, died eight years ago at age 39. She was my much loved “wild child.” But that is another venue for another rant.
I'm 80 and my wife is 78. our son and daughter-in-law wanted us to downsize before we got too old to do it so they could care for us in our declining years. The house on the corner next door to them came on the market. We left our home of 40 years across town and bought the 1924 Craftsman style home which was in utter disrepair and considered a tear down. Having found a fantastic builder who saved us a bunch of money, he began reconstruction. After three months we had a "brand new" home, complete with new electrical, plumbing, and exterior. Our new neighborhood was so very welcoming, and we had found the last home we would spend our lives in, a welcome respite from so many uncertainties.
Our daughter was Meg, and our daughter-in law is Meghan. My wife had given Meghan some of Meg's clothes that fit her. Another neighbor who is an excellent seamstress, asked her for one of Meg's blouses, because she wanted to make something for us in rememberance of our Meg.
A week later she presented us with the most beautifully made and professionaly put together TEDDY BEAR. It was made from one of Meg's old blouses, and on one of the feet, she had embroidered the quote: "IN MEMORY OF MEG."
Now I do not know of any other 80 year old man who sleeps with a TEDDY BEAR NAMED FREDDY. Every night when I say my prayers and meditations, I reach out, gently take hold of that little foot, squeeze it softly, and tell my Meg how much I love her, miss her, and that me, her Poppie, will see her soon, according to whatever God's plan is for the rest of my life. Freddy gives me so much of a feeling of love and the presence of Meg, and I can't thank my neighbor, who barely knew me at the time, for such a caring gift. WOW! I shiver for the caring nature of such wonderful people. We are all a part of the whole and need to lean on each other in times of grief and longing. What a God given blessing.
I will detail more terrible memories about our Meg's battles with her additions at a future date. Stay tuned for some terrible memories of the past.
Tell me, if you can, of any of your experiences and memories you would like to share, either glad or sad. A burden shared is half as heavy!
peppermiller3011@gmail.com
So love this poem, Jonathan! Fantastic rhyme! Wonderful imagery!
Blessings, ~Wendy💜