Beyond the South End

Kendall Merriam was born and raised in Rockland, Maine. He has a history degree from Gordon College in Wenham, MA and graduate studies in military and maritime history at the University of Maine at Orono and Mystic Seaport in Mystic, Conn. He also received grants to study historical research at Colonial Williamsburg and the National Archives in Washington, D.C. Merriam has been widely published, including in Katyn W Literaturze(Katyn in Literature), a Polish anthology of literary works about the WWII Katyn Forest Massacre by 120 international authors, including Czeslaw Milosz. Merriam has written more than twenty books and plays. Most of Merriam’s work has a definite muse – family, friends, and strangers – with life’s larger themes of work, love, loss and death. On April 29, 2010, Merriam was appointed Rockland, Maine’s Inaugural Poet Laureate, an honor from his hometown Merriam cherishes.

A POEM FOR ALEXIS WRIGHT

An Apology from the Men of the World

I have women friends

Who were sexually abused

When they were children

Or teenagers

So frightening

So damaging to the soul

What you did

Is not wrong, not revenge

For what happened to you

As a child

What the judge, the prosecutors

Said about you

Was fallacious

Why they said them

I have no idea

Why they gave you 10 months

And a huge fine

Is not understandable

I think you are a good person

Suffering from the touching of men

I do not know why women

Are not defending you

If they, themselves, have been abused

Or have friends who were

A woman friend thinks

You should have a book, a movie deal

If you wanted to go through

It all again

But you may want

To go to the beach

And enjoy the redeeming sun

Kendall Merriam  at my brother’s house 6/1/13  3:33  PM

Listening to the cat eating

CARLOS SANTANA WINS MEDAL

                  For Parker

Every time I listen to his music

I think of you

Maybe you are playing

In his band

Or perhaps in one of

The Muscle Shoal’s back up groups

Or maybe Joni Mitchell

Took you by the hand

Made you her drummer and lover

I never saw you dead

All possibilities are open

All those times you ran away

Perhaps you were just looking

To sit in in some bar

And prove what you could do

On a full set

Not the split conga

That I bought for you

One Christmas in Boston

For $12.00

Our parents couldn’t understand

The need for music

In your mind, heart and soul

Were you listening to sounds

From somewhere else

In our brilliant, giant Universe

Are you playing now

In Jesus’ night club

With pretty women

Eyeing you from the audience

Wanting to take you home!

Kendall Merriam, Home, 12/9/13  8:42  PM

Listening to “The Best of Santana”

ON COLD MOUNTAIN

Up on Cold Mountain

the Devil has roared by

searing my soul with his cold fire

his white angels

have stabbed me with their

icy glass daggers

tied me down with white cloths

locked me in a white cell

yet my mind was not imprisoned

with his pain and poison

it roamed from Siberia

to the Enchanted

listened to whale chants

and

tasted forbidden wine

You put me on Cold Mountain

Cold Mountain is your master

Cold Mountain is my prison

you intend to build terraces

and plant soil holding trees

to preserve Cold Mountain

so you can continue

to offer up our bodies

I intend to tunnel under Cold Mountain

and plant charges

to call on wind and river

to wear Cold Mountain away

if my mind still wanders

it is still escaping from Cold Mountain

I pray you understand this

and why I must tear your altar down

and you must give us up

as your sacrifice

and go back to tilling the fields

while we, your prisoners,

carry Cold Mountain away

on our backs

Kendall A. Merriam

A TYPEWRITER SONG

For Phyllis

My wife, Phyllis

Bought this machine for me in 1970 or ‘71

It turned me from an amateur

Onto the long road as a professional

Writing all the poems, plays and stories

People tell me they like

It gives them something to enjoy

I love the clicking and clacking

That I first heard at the Courier-Gazette office

Where they set the type

With hot lead machines

Now I have a view across the Head of the Bay

Much better than any screen saver

Today, snow and wind

Yesterday, the glamour of sunlight

Sometimes moon or stars

Sometimes brilliant dry lightning

Over the Mussel Ridges

Sometimes I think I have no control

Over the keys

They tell me which one to push

I just take the cover off, put in the paper

And turn on the music

Write the title, write the muse

And type down to the bottom of the page

If I don’t make too many mistakes

It takes about a half an hour

Some poems are personal, some public

The latter are copied

At Huston-Tuttle where for the 10 cent miracle

I can deliver them down Main Street on my poetry route

So, Phyllis’s $l25.00 investment

Those many years ago, has given me meaning in my life

And perhaps new knowledge about heart and mind

Kendall Merriam   Home April l, 20ll  5:36 PM

Listening to Rod Stewart “The Great American Songbook  Vol. 1”

LANCOME

For the Order Lady, Order Number#LAN_01481755

Thank you for taking my order

It was a bit complicated

But worth it

You were so polite

In a vexing situation

My wife is beautiful

With silver hair

She ran out of perfume

Just yesterday

She used Antilope in Paris

Opium back in the states

Neither is available in Maine now

So one day we were in

A Rite Aide drug store

In Camden, Maine

And I saw in a yellow box

Poeme

Which I had to buy

Being a poet

She adopted it immediately

But now we can’t get it

So I called you

With your beautiful voice

Are you from Paris?

Lancome is fortunate

To have you as a representative

So feeble men like me

Who know nothing about perfume

Just to order the best

So thank you for helping me

To do that

Kendall Merriam, Home 1/4/14 6:33 PM

Listening to supper cook and Phyllis talking to Clare on the phone