words words words – Page 39

December 31, 2014December 31, 2014

auld lang sayne

May old acquaintance be forgot…
What does that mean?
I know not what.
But I must say
from the bottom of my heart

Thank you, Merci and Dankeschön

for reading, liking, commenting
and making threegoodwords such a wonderful experience,
such a joy in writing a blog.

So here, now, close to the last hour
of this old-young year
I wish you
All you lovely people
the loveliest, happiest, most pleasurable of
New Years.

Have a wonderful 2015!

xx, j.d.

December 29, 2014

open snow

In the silence
the need to be blossoms slowly
like a tree takes time to grow
a moment to leave what’s lost
allow what’s lonely
and wander out into the open snow.

Outside, clouds shining
dark white, mother-of-pearl
the sea in the sky over
green peaks dusted, swaying
the cold beauty of a winter morning.

In the shadows, ancient trees
endless thoughts, sweeps of feeling
dark in light, hot in warm
like will o’ the wisps a-murmuring
too light for the heaviness of words
glowing in silence
flashing
voiceless
silent as an ancient song.

December 23, 2014

same ol’, same ol’

Every year
the drama begins
sitting around the table
eating drinking
making merry
singing carols and songs wassailing

And then it happens,
right among the joyous crowd
that one little word
that one precious tone
eyes wide, pursed lips
a silence full ‘Oh-oh’ and ‘Here we go’
Oh God did you have to start that now?’

And the mayhem begins
the rants, arguments
and loud angry shouts
Uncle George, please
Aunt Jemma, why? Granma!
and Tammy, hold your tongue
Lucas, stop egging him on
but Ian and Joyce pour more oil into the fire
Eddie and Sara smiling sadly, looking on,
it’s all so predictable like that 12 days song

That one little look
that one small word
a sigh, a warning
sent out with serious eyes
‘Please, have another drink’
‘No, that’s what started it!’
The wine, the grog
those glasses of homemade eggnog
all of them pistol-shots to
The He said She said Marathon:

‘I never said’, ‘You did say’
This, that and remember that day
two, three, ten years ago
‘When I was a kid’
and everyone groans,
sighs, heads shaking, while eyes are rolled

Every single year, back when we played in the snow,
Every single Christmas that comes and goes.

December 22, 2014

patterns galore

exploring a voice
a mindset
a perspective
is like slipping on clothes
to see if and how they fit
here too long, there too tight
altogether a bit off
or just right

until they’re known enough
warm enough
to the touch
of thought, sight, feeling
and you’re fairly certain
you have the pattern,
the colours and meshes down pat,
the seams of memories, quirks
and habits good and bad,
how they all fit together –

Or not.
Sometimes it’s all a pair of old clothes:
too small to fit, too familiar to throw,
or bundled up together in one glorious knot
hard to untangle with patterns galore
so subtle and baroque
they’re infinitely hard to spot.

October 30, 2014

a simple life

The cabin was in the middle of nowhere out in the plains. It took twenty minutes to get to the main street with the grocers and the bar. The cabin had everything though, water and electricity, and enough firewood if it got cold at night. Bobby made sure there was enough.

Bobby Sachs was the mechanic in Twain. You needed your car fixed you got it to Sachs. He knew everything about cars, old, new, sold twice, three times, he knew exactly what you needed. How, nobody knew, he just did. He was a good man, tall, very broad, always tanned. He was rarely in anything else than jeans and a soiled shirt, work gloves hanging out of his back pocket, his workboats sprinkled with motor oil. He was the quiet type, didn’t talk much, but was a good for a drink and a game of pool in the bar. Bobby Sachs was liked by everyone in Twain, he was a good man, solid. And he took care of Christiana, everyone called her Christy though.

Christy was… she was a sweet girl, but not very bright. When she went shopping at the grocers, she had a list of things they needed, written out by Bobby, coz Christy couldn’t remember much. Pretty face, but brain like a sieve, everyone said. And it was good Bobby Sachs did the decent thing and married her. She’d been going out with Bobby Sachs’ cousin, Hank Royce, but Hank was no good. Beat her up bad sometimes, especially when he was drunk, but there was no getting Christy away from Hank, he was all she had save her Gran, and her Gran was ancient. Nobody really knew about Christy’s dad, and her Moma one day up and left without so much as a word or goodbye. Christy was ten then, and everybody in Twain agreed that’s when she got a bit strange. She’d loved her Moma like only a kid could, but Christy’s Moma was a bitch, everyone was happy to see her go. Nobody said that to Christy’s face though, coz Christy was an angel. Not very bright, but so sweet you didn’t want no harm to come her way. You just couldn’t get her away from that good-for-nothin’ drunk she was with.

Then Hank Royce got himself killed in a car crash down at the Old River, and it was Bobby Sachs who dragged the wreck to the yard. As the story went, he came by Christy’s to give her the money for the scraps, saw how bad she was and just took her home to get her cleaned up and fed. She never left after, and at one point they went to the preacher and Bobby put his Moma’s ring on Christy’s finger. Now Christy was taken care of and the whole of Twain was relieved. Christy wasn’t an angel for nothin’, she had a good man for a husband, a man she obviously adored, she wouldn’t let anyone talk bad about Bobby. grasses Everyone was happy for her, she was a good girl with a good man, and Bobby Sachs was the kind of man you wanted to see with a good wife. Everyone was happy to see them walking into the bar for the dance on Saturday nights, or down to the fair when it came to Crosby further down the highway, coz Bobby Sachs took care of his wife. He even took her out when she wanted to have a good time.