Avenge October 14, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, Poem, poems
2 comments
he hobbles into the board room
moving slow as winter breathes
making jokes from door to wall
as he retrieves his measuring tape
to size up things, like picture frames,
this aged volunteer doing good
but i resent him right now
i visualize my own grandpa
the jokes he could have made
had clothos been kinder
how he would measure up
if lachesis was less treacherous
were he granted twenty more years
instead of falling to atropos’ shears
Synthesis September 27, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, life, Poem, poems
3 comments
my mother had always swore
she’d never do anything synthetic
the last time she said it
or anything for that matter
was as her head hovered over
the table where reflected light
created a church window halo
just before leaning forward
escaping the glow to trace the powder thin line
laced with something heavier than nature
Brother May 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: brother, childhood, death, family, Poem, poems, Poetry
5 comments
brother
there’s a strange
emptiness in that o
a wide world opening up
like a gaping grave
we searched hard
when we thought
you’d slipped into the pond
or wandered into the woods
but then you were found
curled away, snuggly tucked
into your bed long before bedtime
so i will fashion you
that eight year old boy
safe and sound
and always present
filling the emptiness
Past May 8, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: clinging to the past, past, Poem, poems, Poetry
5 comments
she clings to a cabin
from two decades ago
remembering how she
slowly savored her first
taste of middle-class opulence
and newfound independence
free from worrying about
homelessness or just enough
or maybe scraping by
then it was gone
still she searches
finding remnants in a
creative email address
nicknames or knickknacks
Sorrow’s Near Victory May 7, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: death, family, grandparents, grief, life, Poem, poems, Poetry, sorrow, southern poetry
1 comment so far
She gathered her grandchildren around
her, like a comforting quilt,
as the train whistle came crying
through the dark November woods.
There ain’t nothing more lonesome
than a train whistle at midnight,
she sighed, several hours after the wake.
Grief stricken sorrow was about
to fill the room with the fullness of a moon
just as the dog sauntered in to retrieve
her bra from the lonesome nightstand.
She smacked with a laugh and chuckle:
Don’t suckle on my brassier,
just as the whistle faded over the hills.
This was sorrow fleeing
Body Parts February 25, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, genetics, Poem, poems, Poetry
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i have my grandmother’s nose
like her, i appreciate the smell
of lilacs in late may
and fresh baked things
consecrated by my own hands
i have my grandfather’s toes
like him, i find joy in being
barefoot and romping
over the earth and water-
treading like my grandmother’s god
from my father, i have faded eyes
that are not so much a window
but a portal, chilling and cold
that scrutinize but when laughing
lets the flying crows land
from my mother, i have high cheeks
hiding like hogs from a butcher
when they grow fattest in fall
they lift up my eyes, push out my nose
and make me feel good right down to the toes
Little Sister February 25, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: family, Food, hunger, Poem, poems, Poetry
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last night i dreamed
i offered you chinese food
you declined yet
when i paid you cried
from the work-induced hunger
then the chinese lady
had a good laugh
at your expense
but i was paying,
so revenge was mine
served sweet and sour
for my sister
your belly rounded
with newfound fullness
Beyond the Leaning Structures February 13, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: childhood, gay poem, gay poet, gay poetry, lgbt poem, life, Poem, poems, Poetry
3 comments
explore beyond
the leaning structures
where cows
dangle from trees
and apple pies
roast on tin roofs
sprawled among
the things that
used to grow
high atop
this mountain meadow
buzzards circle above
ants twirl below
a shack rests
wrangled in ropes
and rotten pallets
along a dirt cow road
hiding from yankees
among pines and
daring to hop from
pallet to pallet in
an almost dried pond
where cows
drown in the mire
big bones of creatures
remain under the watchful
guise of flashing red-eyes
obscured by swaying limbs
that ascend into the hollow
fossilized coral
and ancient ferns
abound in calming
cool minnow-filled creeks
running between
hieroglyphic birch trees
where dinosaurs
and hermits await
wait there
in the valley low
out of sight from the
bootlegger’s barn
where the water is deepest
i will return their someday
to explore cousinless
and perhaps brotherless
but not to play
or to learn french
under an old oak
or to dare others
to cross fallen tree bridges
from one hillside to the next
but to lay low
sink into calming
forgetfulness
unknowing
carelessness
to be baptized
in that creek water
among darting fishes
bowing goldenrods
rattling trees
and spinning clouds
Stepdad’ness January 5, 2009
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: Poem, poems, Poetry, stepdad
3 comments
never quite sure
easing myself onto the ice
listening for that hollow echo
the broken springboard
sound that takes you down
my voice as thin as a fissure
but as influential as the sun
Mother October 15, 2008
Posted by Tel in Kinfolklore.Tags: gay family, gay poet, lesbian mother, lesbian poetry, lesbianism, Poem, poems, Poetry
4 comments
i thought of this many times
the risks it would take
in texas
to admit the truth
so as to be free
but lose the three
that matter most to me
honesty was all i might gain
a mother
who preaches
honesty
to her children
living by example,
conscience free and clear
for many a year
i kept this key
oh so near
perfectly kept
like all god’s creations
and hid it away
sometimes thinking
of it clicking
in the lock,
waiting for the pop,
the snap
and for the door to swing
wildly and widely open
things are not so simple
on account of nails,
door stops
rusty hinges
drop bars
and unseen barriers
that trap us within
keeping doors closed
yet one day it came
there was a shifting
of perception
slivers of light slid through the tightest keyhole
brightness of enlightenment shined from under the door
between the cracks, a beckoning crept
like some stranger outside
and oh how i could not resist
the invitation to explore
slowly the key goes inside
with slight force, it turns
a pop
a click
an unlock
the door opens
the flood of wet watery light
as if i am born again
cleansed
awash
anew
this honesty
now, my children
i am no different
from who i said
less than 5 minutes ago
if you care to only listen
to my voice and the sounds
of a lock clicking, popping and unlocking
© Telly McGaha
