Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Fabric of Gee's Bend: Coveralls

wikimedia commons
 Sewing a quilt. Gees Bend, Alabama Other Title: Jennie Pettway and another girl with the quilter Jorena Pettway

I miss you baby.
Seems like I cain’t get warm no more
and winter’s a comin on soon.
I didn’t think I’d make it this far
with you gone.
I wish I could still feel
the heat of the July day
you passed.
I try.
But I cain’t no more
You’re both gone.
A’times I miss you so much
 I feel like I’m gonna break
But then I look up
And still see that old dusty table
In front of me.
How many years we had that table?
Corn bread don’t taste the same off it.
Not so sweet in my mouth now.
I picked up your coveralls the other day.
I keep ‘em in that old trunk mama gave me.
They still smell like you,
your sweet sweat and tabacca
And the gin you’d sneak when you thought I wasn’t lookin’.
I needed a new blanket
but there just wasn’t enough for it.
So I took all your coveralls
And stitched ‘em--
I hope you don mind"
Into a blanket--
And covered myself in you,
So I can smell you and dream of you
Through the long winter.

  For more information about the quilts of Gee's Bend please go to quilts of Gee's Bend
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011 

and posted for  Poets United Poetry Pantry #129

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Love's Glance #2

The heart tells the story
of years together
with episodes of laughter
sparkling with
the tears
of life's tiny tragedies

wrinkled with age
folded along lines unseen
for convenient transportation
in pocket
or purse

unfolded gently
in the wave 
of autumn's starry heat

warped by the tears
of dusty roads
unkempt tar
and the asphalt of many miles

unbound in love
worn with care
this heart
radiant still
with love and heat
found fresh in the careful glance
that tentative terrain
of love's perfect glance.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011 

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Monday, December 5, 2011

The Notebook of Dreams

I had not intended to write this today
As the sun shines
Through waning days of autumn
I had thought to write
Or of my garden, overgrown
Or of my love for husband or daughters
Out of every pore
Loneliness crept out
Showing its face in decayed light
Not joy
Not even ever-defining chores
That surround and fill my day
But the loneliness
That seeps into
Crevices and bone
Making marrow of nights and days
In timely fashion
This was not what I asked for
Or maybe not
But nonetheless
It crowds my thoughts
And permeates my view
I am tempted to cry
The tears of resignation
But remain dry-eyed
In the face of this
My enduring legacy of fear
When I am no more
Will you have known
My secret heart
Will you have found this,
My secret notebook of dreams?

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011 

posted for dverse 

Thursday, December 1, 2011

5 Minutes No Editing

Tempest turns within the eye
And marks those who move with it
Mark them by the turn of silvered key
And make them tremble in the wake of time

Circle the timbre of the rings of trees
O dryad of my soul
And wing through the shimmer
Of the language of trees

Hark my heart
And hearten silver tear
To ring around
The heat of my heart

Copyright/All Rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2011