CHAPPED HANDS
In Memory of My Mother
Doris Louise Blackman Merriam
My mother had chapped hands
Every winter
From doing the laundry
For nine
At some point in her life
An innovation came along
The Easy washer and wringer
Which helped immensely
But she had to hang out
All that cloth
Between porch and barn
On sunny days in winter
In the freezing cold
When we were old enough
We would trudge over
Pacific Street hill to Skim’s store
With a note for groceries
To keep all the human engines
Of 72 Mechanic Street going
Of course, now I feel guilty
For stealing an occasional quarter
From the lunch money for the movies
But I’m so grateful
To both mother and father
Using so much effort
To keep us alive and flourishing
Here in one of the most
Beautiful spots on earth and ocean
No matter the cost to
mother’s
Beautiful hands
Kendall Merriam,
Home, May 9, 2013 10:52 AM
Listening to Phyllis dressing
MEMORIAL MOON
For
Kristen
I
don’t want to talk
About
soldiers
Though
I was one
No
cannons
No
fireworks
Just
this single lantern
Tied
to God’s finger
Which
he moves around
Like
a celestial yo-yo
Water
calm
Almost a silent affection
Do
you think our poems
Will
be forgotten
I
keep running into people
Who
say they love the moon
But
if that is true
Why
aren’t
A
thousand editions
Demanded
Across
the world
Now
frail clouds
Over
the Mussel Ridges
Obscuring
our friend slightly
But
good to see again
A
sign we are alive
And
loving the earth
From
mountain top to sea’s breaches
Kendall
Merriam, Home 5/26/13 10:57 PM
Listening
to a distant television
THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS
For my brother Robert
At the hall of the Grand Army of the Republic
where a bank sits now
each Memorial Day
there was oratorical splendor
veterans, politicians
but the most important was the delivery
of the Gettysburg Address
by a high school senior
one year my brother, Robert
was chosen
I do not remember him having
a loud voice around the house
but he was president of his class
small, slight
commanding some spirit
more than the Baptist Church
prepared him for
that May day was warm and sunny
a fair sized crowd
gathered around the porch of the G.A.R.
I don’t remember any loudspeaker
traffic was light on the holiday
so when my brother
recited Lincoln’s Holy Words
all could hear
there were tears
from local citizens
knowing how many from Rockland
shed blood in that national catastrophe
I am a sometime war poet
who cannot bring myself to read much
about those bloody fields
on the borderlands
it certainly was no “Civil” war
many still celebrate it
North and South
why did God demand so much
to bring freedom to the oppressed
African-American citizens
it is beyond comprehension
fields were littered with
bodies of men and horses
Traveler indeed!
what were the bands of superiority
that challenged humans and humaneness
even though Maine
contributed more men
proportionately
it is only now
lovely faces are arriving in
Rockland
enriching this tiny city
how fortunate we are finally
to hear the fruition of that paragraph
my brother spoke so many years ago
Kendall Merriam Home May 5, 2013
10:37 PM
Listening to the “Best of the Gypsy Kings”
THE LEGACY
For
Marshall and Danny Merriam
Gray
seas today, boding rain
Maybe
an Easterly
No
worry in the lobster yacht
No
worry on the 900 footer
In
the Gulf
Ships
bring father and son together
A
trade ancient and new
Not
many now under the American flag
The
work is fraught with danger
A
loose tripod just down the street
The
fire of drilling
Every
precaution is taken
Much
of the sea year is pleasant
Except
when it isn’t
Poseidon
demands much from Odysseus
Up
to the days of sea horses
Who
do the work of keeping our
Expanding
population
Fed
and fueled
Spray
gives the salt of longevity
So
many losses out of Rockland
Ships
and schooners, johnny wood boats
But
father and son
Have
no hesitation
In
going out
Calling
on family need, personal need
We
say silent prayers
At
each gust on a blowy day
We
also offer pleas
For
wood, plastic, steel
That
each hull hold, each engine
Drive
the prop properly
We
cannot abide losses
Of
any rank, by any wind
The
music of wind and wave is so enticing
We
hear it here at the Head of the Bay
Where
the father was inundated
With
the thirst of plowing the waters
And
now the son rides a ship
Of
giant size trying to find oil
We
trust they are protected
For
a long maritime life
Braving
the oceans for centuries
Kendall
Merriam, Home, May 19, 2013 4:05 PM
Listening
to a CD by Dramtreeo “Waterside”
And
a compilation of world music by Rebecca Hill
THE ROSE
For
Meg
She
works on her knees
Trimming,
weeding, adding
Flowers
to the landscape
Of
her husband’ s long love
Of
the sea
She
represents all the wives
Waiting
for ships and schooners
To
round Owls Head Light
In
a fair breeze
Vessels
with a paying cargo
She
never mentions it
She
just prays
That
the Captain and all his men
Are
safe and hearty
After
facing all the seas’s
Mysterious
Gods and Goddesses
Who
work by whim
She
holds tight to earth
Caring
for a row of roses
That
give courage and beauty
No
hat but her
Golden
crown of sea gold
Brought
from
Madagascar
or Ceylon
How
the brilliant sky and ocean
Match
her will
For
caressing the earth
On
this day
With
a hint of summer
Edged
by an afternoon Southwest
That
comes nearly every day
It
tangles her hair
A
breeze off the harbor
Where
so many ships were built
Sailed
and returned
When
not caught by storm, sleet, fog
Can
the scent of roses
Guide
all boats into port
As
much a lifesaver
As
any horn or light
Is
that why she works so hard
To
please men and God
Who
walk dangerous and beautiful waters
Kendall
Merriam, Home, May 16, 2013 1:37 PM
Listening
to the Allman Brothers
