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{April 17, 2015}   Remembering Roy: A Poem for National Poetry Month

We are halfway through National Poetry Month and I haven’t posted a poem. Shame on me!

I decided to post one of my own today and share someone else’s before month end! Enjoy…

Clock made of Wood

Roy’s Clock

 

REMEMBERING ROY

On my wall, the clock Roy made

loses time every day, but I dutifully reset it.

I keep it for the picture of my grandmother

he varnished onto the pine wood tree slice

that reminds me of a knotty pine cabin

in the mountains of California she once owned,

a string to a memory of a summer visit there that made me soar with dreams and happiness.

I keep it to remind me of him.

The clock of Roy’s heart stopped long ago

in a tragic way:

he was run over by his own car

as he tried to stop it from rolling down a hill.

Our possessions sometimes betray us;

our death can be entwined with them,

just as our life is entwined with them,

like ivy running wild,

over time crumbling the very bricks

it is attached to.

Roy, maybe you knew this;

you thought you could bypass it

by giving away your dreams:

the bricks of your life repurposed.

I remember the day you turned us loose

in your garage of clocks;

you told us to take what we wanted.

After their crafting was done

and your time was spent,

they no longer affirmed your life

or made money to live on,

just collected dust.

With bitter generosity you let them go

 to pseudo grandkids,

like released birds you had once loved,

with hopes they would soar

somewhere you couldn’t.

Roy, I don’t even know where you are buried,

but across the country your clocks tick in small apartments,

twigs in the nests of lonely people;

where will they go from here?

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Thought-provoking. And so true, how a material possession, like a clock, lives on so much longer than the maker and owner of the possession.’ I put a little of myself, somehow, in the possessions I value, so it will be held and loved by those after me.

Liked by 1 person



sued51 says:

Pam, the things I value most either came from someone else or are things given to me by others.

Liked by 1 person



Susan says:

“but across the country your clocks tick in small apartments, twigs in the nests of lonely people” love that line. A beautiful poem and a wonderful tribute to Roy.

Liked by 1 person



sued51 says:

Thanks, Susan! 🙂

Like



I was taken aback. This is a gem Sue – a freaking gem!

Liked by 1 person



sued51 says:

Janna, your enthusiastic comments are much needed and always appreciated! 🙂

Liked by 1 person



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