I met Fred at a friend’s dinner party. In meeting him, I met three generations, for he was there with his daughter and grown granddaughter. We talked about cities and transportation. This poem combines his word with the wintertime loss of our family’s pet mice: Coralina and Sparkles. The poem’s tentative title is “The Third Mouse.” I invite you to share any of your own poems inspired by this word or this poem.
The Stranger: Fred
The Word: Transportation
The poem I wrote:
Coralina went last. Our first mouse.
The second one ran away,
or as the children think, was eaten
by an eagle. The third mouse
came to us the size of a grape,
fur so dark it might have been purple.
A hopper, they called her in the shop.
I remember dropping two Brazil nuts
into the cage, and Coralina squeezed
ravenously from behind the wheel.
The third mouse knew her food
would be stolen, and what she did,
this baby mouse, humbled me:
she carried one nut, as big as she,
and left it for Coralina on the wheel.
Then she ate the other nut, undisturbed,
in the small wooden house intended
for birds. Once the water-bottle wet
the cedar chips while Coralina slept;
the third mouse spent the whole night
running transportation from one cage
to the other, carrying dry cedar in her mouth.
One cold night left only Coralina.
The children buried the third mouse,
the industrious one, who worked so hard,
stayed so small, who ran
all night to keep a friend warm.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
February 20, 2019 at 12:05 pm
Oh, my dear child,
You have grown to be you.
Cradling wilting flowers as a child,
you asked if more water or more sunshine or more love
would keep them.
No.
Your beloved dog died when she was 19. You were 21, in many ways still a child, one who cherished. Would more water or more sunshine or more love have kept her?
No.
Your grandmothers, your grandfather, the children I lost who would have been part of you —
all lost, but saved.
They are flowers, stems, petals, color, roots — the riot of joy and love and loss and birth.
They brought you safely to now. They and you are your transport.
February 20, 2019 at 12:25 pm
How wonderful, Mrs. Sharp. Congratulations on your child. Condolences for your husband if I am imagining things aright.
February 20, 2019 at 2:35 pm
Make New Friends
One day I may achieve
Ascendant transportation
Or fall into the pit
Of deserved condemnation.
Ashes go to ashes as
Dust goes unto dust
In the meantime, in between,
We’ll be doing what we must.
Some of us, gainsayers,
Deny the reality
Of rewards found in Heaven
Or Hell’s malignity.
Some of us, we fear
To which it is we’re destined:
One a cursed state,
The other that we’re blessed in.
Many of the fearful
Go seeking their salvation
While those who are indifferent
Express no reservations.
No matter how you live
The moments you partake,
Everyone must die,
There is no escape.
So many more will tell you
How you must not live
But you’re free in all your choices.
You have this life to live.
You can star in your soap opera,
Pratfall in comedy,
Boldly be in an adventure,
Suffer in tragedy.
Finding your sole purpose
Or living for your soul,
Loving one another
Should be among your goals.
I have no more advice except,
When it’s time to keen and rend,
You come to calm acceptance and
Death has become your friend.
February 24, 2019 at 4:33 am
Birthday Fall
Turning 60
was hardly any turn at all,
smooth transportation for years.
But 70 is like a staircase fall,
the way things go into slo/mo
and you have time to wonder
how much it will hurt and
who will remember to feed the dog.
You might notice your body
falling faster than you can manage,
down, upside down,
you in loyal pursuit of that heaviness,
wondering if your will is in the desk
and how anyone else
will understand the logic
of your junk drawer.
I think it ends there,
at the point where all your stuff overflows
all your junk drawers,
and your body is part of the stuff,
a sentimental part
you thought you should save,
just in case.
But now, you’re out of space
and it’s falling away.
February 26, 2019 at 4:03 pm
Transportation
Steal a loaf of bread and they will give
You free passage to Australia
(One-way, of course). Libraries
Are more forgiving: just close
A book and you are home. Sleep
Transports you free. Most dreams,
Most always, let you out,
And you do not need a card
To enter. Transportation of years
Would be ideal, from back to front,
But that is not on offer yet. Years
Don’t know but one way: trickle,
Hardly noticed, toward the past.
March 3, 2019 at 9:18 am
Walking along
She remembers
A report
She read
Sometime
In the past
Walking slowly
As reported
Can mean the
Onset of the absence of mind
Looking ahead
She speeds up her transportation
Almost skipping
Wanting no one to consider
She only sees the past in her mind
March 16, 2019 at 4:43 pm
In our RV….
Traveling
Randomly
Across
New
Scenery
Provides
Opportunities
Reserved
Typically
Around
Travelers
In
Other
Niches of Transportation
March 16, 2019 at 5:47 pm
I enjoyed this, initially…