i never saw him cry,
though when boys become men,
they do, but only
when alone—maybe,
sitting on the cellar steps,
bare feet pressed against cool concrete,
we munch crisps &
talk ourselves through life,
just as we saw it back then,
meandering between trees,
too high to scale, though
we climbed some of them, my
dad says he’s no good but
i find traces
of a steady pulse, scratched knees
in rain-beat rimstone, that was,
well, before my life erupted, leaving
only ash on those around,
he knew, i think
cause there’s a certain magic,
sitting side by side on crumbling lines,
next to the edge &
sharing food on steps that lead
into the dark, still light enough
to see the next bend coming
.
Victoria has us writing characters for MeetingTheBar today.. she prepared a wonderful article which goes online over at dVerse at 3pm EST… i’m in Zürich all day today, so my commenting back will be a bit delayed
Nice … there is hope around the bend … I hope …
You poor little girl, never get to go anywhere. You’re in ZURICH now? What might be really unusual would be for you to mention to us when you are HOME–grin!
Claudia, your mind is that of a poet–maybe you knew this. I marvel at those who seem to not work so hard at it, but have a knack. Or maybe it is difficult, but you make it look easy–THAT is the mark of a craftsman.
Sitting, reminiscing, a pulse yes, knees–photographic. And this lines I REALLY love ‘em…
“…i find traces
of a steady pulse, scratched knees
in rain-beat rimstone, that was,
well, before my life erupted, leaving
only ash on those around…”
DEAR Poet Claudia.
PEACE!
A very nice flow and disjunction both here, and lovely beginning and close. K.
Claudia, this a delightful poem and so full of heart. I want to read it again… and I just did
. It is the first thing I read as I woke up this morning, and so glad I did, because it has left me with a wonderful feeling that life is good.
You’ve a magic touch, M’am.
Ah, there is magic sitting on cellar steps ~ you make us feel the coolth and chill of the cellar ~ and the hope that springs eternal ~ beautiful writing Claudia
love this opening–
never saw him cry,
though when boys become men,
they do, but only
when alone—maybe,
*hits the like button that isn’t there. Enough said.
Old friends are like bookends…Simon and Garfunkel
smiles…there is a certain magic that happens….really like your progression in this…will say that real me do cry…..i like the humility as well in not being good at trees but having the scratches….really tender bit of memoir in this too…admission of your own life blowing up…but he right there as well…smiles.
This poem gives me a feeling of nostalgia, Claudia….for what once was. I remember sitting on steps and talking too; both steps leading to the basement and steps leading to the upstairs. For some reason there is a special feeling about sitting on steps that lead somewhere…just around the bend. Enjoy Zurich!
I sat on the steps and wouldn’t let people by a time or two, that is also fun to do. I think I drove them around the bend haha
Man, I loved the lines –
i find traces
of a steady pulse, scratched knees
in rain-beat rimstone, that was,
well, before my life erupted, leaving
only ash on those around,
Hope you don’t mind, but I love your writing and nom’d you for the Seven Things About Me award… – http://dmosmusings.com/2012/08/22/seven-things-about-me/
It reminds me of days spent with my dad watching the world go by. My only hero…thank you for bringing up some good memories.
Your dad sounds like a lovely man and father. Very poignant write. Nostalgic without the intention. A very lovely gentle read of happy das gone by.
nice, love this line – ‘before my life erupted, leaving
only ash on those around,’
This is so poignant. The few details you paint so skillfully produce a huge portrait…including little snippets of yourself.
Lovely Claudia, particularly like the section: ‘sitting on the cellar steps,
bare feet pressed against cool concrete,
we munch crisps &
talk ourselves through life,
just as we saw it back then,
meandering between trees,
too high to scale’
Speaks to me, lots of sensory information… great.
He knew “I” erupted, or were going to and escaped the ash.or was buried by it? There is a mystery here because of how closely you detailed the relationship and made Me care! And then too: the cellar steps, the knees, the crisps, the trees–the entire realistic setting that cocooned the two of you–before repeating with its holes and crumbles:
sitting side by side on crumbling lines,
next to the edge &
sharing food on steps that lead
into the dark, still light enough
to see the next bend coming”
If you’ve planned a novel here, I’m first in line to read it.
There are those moments that create special memories…the poem presents such a moment…as always a simple event presented in a unique way…loved it.
lovely look back, nostalgia on the half shell, yet rife with character, with heart as well; more emotion than eros this time. Liked the line /scratched knees in rain-beat rimstone/.
Not just a character piece, but a bit of an inner voyage back in time, to the people from our past who make us ourselves…I very much like the bittersweet feel to this, Claudia.
A lovely write Claudia and I have read it again and again and lose myself in the beauty of it. Wonderful nostalgia!
Anna
]
So between the light and the dark there “is still light enough”… I like that.
A poem with heart and insight. Shared moments..the ones that count seem to hold places in our memory over every other thing. You captured one here and the understanding of why it holds its place in your mind and in your history. Beautiful.
it’s so easy to get lost in you words–lost in the togetherness and the memories. really beautiful.
So many men are afraid that their tears are too full of that precious testosterone. I, however, depending on circumstance, have no fear of the tear, public or private. Perhaps I feel too much, but I don’t think so.
Very nice image of parent and child mulling over their past.
The last line must remind of ‘to where it bent in the undergrowth.” Some boys just get stuck at that fork in the road for the rest of their life.
Deeply sweet even though the journey together may not be all smooth going… love the observations…
Nostalgic and beautiful, love it !
Nice capture of your father….and yourself back in time….The opening lines are specially lovely ~
Good to know there’s something around the band
yep, grown men cry too
very touching write claudia
liked several places, among them,
“there’s a certain magic,
sitting side by side on crumbling lines,
next to the edge…”
thank you claudia
Very different from your usual style, because you’re really focussed on the character here… but it works, and works well. It’s interesting to see you stretching the poetic muscles in a different direction, and succeeding.
intense today… lovely pictures in your lines
When we are young we view the world so differently. I love how you look back at these moments and view them again from a different perspective without losing that childlike innocence.
i am amazed at how beautifully you hold moments, their magic in words. wonderful write!
i mumbled almost when i finished reading…who was he claudia…and that i suppose says it all about the impact of your write…
*love the new headshot…you look about 16….:))
I assumed it was your father you sat next to on the stoop…awesome image of two people who love each other yet have separate lives..who grow to appreciate each other more……as someone else wrote, bittersweet (I hope I am close?)
great characterization. Some really nice word choices to really flex the paint-brush here. Great read. Thanks
I guess it’s only when they’re fully grown that grown men cry. You’ve well caught the male feeling of camaraderie. Impressive – no doubt the female version is not much different.
sitting side by side on crumbling lines,
next to the edge &
sharing food on steps that lead
into the dark, still light enough
The joy and fun of sharing can create some form of understanding and wanting it to go on. It’ll lead to a permanent bond! Nice write Claudia!
Hank
Sitting on the steps – a pause before we climb or leave…
A homely and warm feel to this poem. Love the portrait, character and feelings rising from the imagery and action of climbing, striving, living. Enjoyed reading this very much.
Really enjoyed this. Such great undertone, wonderful.
i love love your depth here, Claudia. such a powerful write.
Something wistful here. And a little heartbreaking. And the flow is just magical.
So nostalgic … magical writing
I feel like I’m sitting on the curb too. Great character sketch. Glad there is still enough light to see what is coming.
sitting side by side on crumbling lines,
next to the edge &
sharing food on steps that lead
into the dark, still light enough
I could spend time in this stanza alone and take it carefully apart. It’s a pure pleasure to read and consider its surface and undertows. Lovely.
memories and moments woven round time i loved it
This is beautiful, so glad another bend can be seen, and there’s a light in any darkness, a beacon of strength to rely on maybe… Just lovely!
Moments like theses shared with your dad are precious. Beautiful Claudia!
http://rimlybezbaruah.blogspot.in/2012/08/my-dreams.html
Of course our parents can’t really see what our different friends bring us and how they enable us to grow into ourselves. I love this way of describing one of the those friends.
“sitting on the cellar steps,
bare feet pressed against cool concrete,
we munch crisps &
talk ourselves through life,
just as we saw it back then,
meandering between trees,
too high to scale, though
we climbed some of them, my
dad says he’s no good but…”
Hi! Claudia…
What a very beautiful poem…as you, look back [reflecting] [in the past...it seems...I'm not sure] fondly, and [almost] have a sense Of what is…coming… around the bend.
Tks, for sharing!
deedee
that ending just floored me Claudia… such power!
this wonderful capture of life through a moment Claudia. wonderful.
and we do cry – why now? even as a man and even in public (well, small public that is)
Love that line, sitting side by side on a crumbling line!
Beautiful writing of a character–magic and strength
Funny, how life isn’t always how it is painted for us because really, we each have our own portrait to paint and each one is different.