This is a very much revised version of a poem I posted way back. Just removed the original - 's'embarrassin'.:_
. . .Let's hear it for happy endings!
<3 Pea <3
Let’s Hear it for Red and Gold
Leaves were falling, and a basement apartment was full of talk of about leaving Nothing new. Same books were crossing at the crossing, and the same flap sole and turned out pockets. A child no longer quite a child, a child who felt she was nothing now. Always waiting for a bus that was always the last to have a place for her. Full. Full. Wrong number. Full. All an ugly yellow- orange. Be late, be late, be late. “Going my way , miss? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” Car big, voice smooth, and the face. Then, oh but then, there was rape. Talk about ugly. Talk about stupid. After time started again, she told herself, and told herself, but was never going to believe.
Now when school rings in the fall, she steps hard to drown the sound. Crunch of leaves helps, and wind. But one day she passes notebook paper at the drugstore, and it draws her to feel its clean, pure lines. So smooth. So full of promise. Challenge in its weight, even its emptiness. She wants to tell it a story. She wants to make it happy. That night, the crackle of a bonfire and the smell of marshmallows turning get her picturing making a pile of the garbage broke her and burning it. After, she will carve a jack o’lantern for the stoop.
Next day, she pauses to jump in raked leaves on her way to new books, new faces. Ivy out of her league, but college is college, right? Tear-causing erasures do not turn out to keep her from getting a need scholarship, hurrah!
Now she rides a fast bus. Orange and yellow mean waving leaves, and the air tastes like she imagines good wine tastes. Really, really good wine.
She knew the key to her turnaround...Let's Hear it for Red and Gold is really sturdy...a tumble in the regular wash doesn't do it---washed and rewashed soaking in a dilution of bleach and water---a half a cup of bleach each time doesn't remove it---the notebook paper with clean, pure lines does! Such a justifiable poem, Pea...
Love you,
Sage
Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on July 14, 2007
So sad, that such things should take place. I like wine, hope she does not indulge in excess. Victor
This one captures the sadness and the errors of youth, the pain of being victimized, and the wonderful spirit that gives the courage to take a second chance and make it work.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
Let's hear it for Phyllis Jean Green, Poet Laureate! Extraordinary mood, scenery, the poem just comes a l i v e with meaning. Beautifully penned.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Blessings,
Joyce B.
George
Love you,
Sage
Fee