Avis D. Matthews and the Fall

This summer Avis D. Matthews (whose poetry you may know if you've been following this site) joined the poetry workshop that my husband and I started.  Here is one of her poems from the workshop.  Avis wrote that she "wrote the poem from a fall state of mind."

A Dog Man

Damp and cloudy,

cool and quiet,

the morning shore 

is an invitation 

to the solitude seeker.

A glimpse of the dogs 

down on the beach draws him 

from the warm kitchen 

onto the concrete balcony

suspended in a frame of mist

six floors up.

Hopeful for adventure,

a long-legged pup charges out 

from behind a dune,  

dashes ahead, 

romps, wags, spins, 

his own playmate. 

An older dog, 

bony and not at all 

ready for morning, 

lags behind like a 

half-hearted chaperone.

On the beach this morning

it's a dog's world.

The man on the balcony

retreats to the soft heat

and his guitar.

- Avis D. Matthews

June 30, 2018

Although we are past 9/11 and even what used to be called Remembrance Day, I would like to post another poem by Avis, "Quiet Skies."  Let's not forget those lost on 9/11/01.  The ending is also very timely.

Quiet Skies

by Avis D. Matthews

Were the clouds so quiet 

in the days before there were no planes

gliding through them;

before that morning,

that bright new day,

which, suddenly, 

was both an end 

and the beginning of 

a long sorrow

that commenced 

on bridges, 

roads and highways,

rooftops,

sidewalks;

in meetings interrupted

and routines aborted.

An undeletable sorrow

that first pinched 

in the panic

of unanswered phone calls,

anxious pleas:

Where are you?

Call us back.

Call back.

Call back... 

A desperate sorrow, 

remembered as: 

burning trees and 

flying metal,

smothering heat and 

smoking clouds and 

collapsing walls,

blood and cries 

and courage.

Memories, 

glued inside the American scrapbook,

of last hugs,

last blow-kisses,

last grins,

last gulps of coffee.

Until our memories,

like thunder and lightning,

but sometimes like birthday cake,

cause us to remember 

that they lived before they died.

But is remembering enough?

What could honor them

but a nation where children are fed;

where grungy sidewalks  

don't pass for living rooms;

where justice isn't muddied

with cowardice and greed.

We honor them if

we squash cruel authority,

callous leadership,

and heartless despotism;

and if we echo the poetess Gwendolyn Brooks 

and proclaim to those would slap the sun:

It will not always be night. *

                                                

* Inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks' poem "Speech to The Young Speech To The Progress-Toward (Among Them Nora And Henry III")

This evening I was playing Charles Fambrough's The Proper Angle Album.  It wasn't quite right for grading papers, but perhaps it is better for reading poetry.

The album started off with "Don Quixote":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2t_AWDEV28

YouTube chose Miles Davis' "Autumn Leaves" to follow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsz6TE6t7-A

I'll finish with John Coltrane's "Equinox": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5m2HN2y0yV8