Memory in the Dark

 

In the photo I am
framed by the outdoor fireplace,
a watering can, a garden,
and many people outside the frame,
my protection against the dark. 
I remember being afraid of the dark
especially the dark of hallways
and stairways that linked bright rooms.
But here I am protected in the night
holding a marshmallow
on a pointed stick
over the last coals of fire.
I remember Grandpa whittling the stick,
Grandmother putting the marshmallow
in place, and Mom and Dad encouraging me
to cook it myself.
Now none of the protectors
are on this side of death.
They are invisible
encouraging me, and
I almost remember
the taste of marshmallows
brown and hot on the outside,
soft and sweet in the middle.

For Mary's prompt "Memory" at What's Going On?

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast

After Defeat

 

Kamala Harris, Vice Presidential portrait

Sometimes we simply go on in the loss of hope,
and generate new hope in a feather, brilliant
leaf, smiling pedestrian, working red and green
lights, and familiar names on social media.
 
This morning, I realized I will give up my car
because I’m afraid of driving through merges,
sunshine, and oncoming headlights.  Besides, I have
started unconsciously dozing sitting up.
 
Suppose my head dropped to the left and I nodded
off while driving?  Better to look for the signs of hope
while walking, sitting, or riding the bus.  Meanwhile,
the world rolls on, urging us to ride along.  

 

And for Sherry's prompt "An Open Link" at What's Going On, I give you a brief old favorite that you may have read before "Time is the Key."  Visit if you have time.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast

 

The Life of Ghosts: a sonnet

 

source

Grandmother held no opinions of death.

She had stories instead, and the best was

her driving on 9-W Highway  

from Albany to home when her eyes closed

And her deceased husband called Maria!

She heard My little Maria, wake, wake!

and she did.  She experienced real truths. 

I won’t be cremated, she insisted,

and you yourself should not!  The cremated

do. not. have. visiting. power.  She knew.

I have no doubt.  Hadn't she been once a

Queen of a Castle, charged with rule while King

was out?   Didn’t she know how to find wild

mushrooms that could beguile a hungry child?

For my prompt "Ghosts" at What's Going On?  

(A poem from October 2012)

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast

Halloween Cats

 

source

Now that the trick or treaters have gone, and
I lit the candles, the cats of the past stop by.
Here is Pierette who lived to be nineteen,
and Miracle who lived to be twenty-two,
the first black and white as Pierro the clown
and the second a striped tortoise shell.  They
sit still as chess pieces, just washing their paws,
while Wicca and Red, the grey and the white
kittens, swat each other, and roll on the floor.
 
The cat in my lap, the black Mariah,
strains to leap away and hide from the strangers. 
Her twin didn’t show up.  And neither did you,
my friend, you who I hoped to see again. 
I taste salt in my smile, as I think of you
and I watching movies on this dark night.
Mariah’s fur stands up in the candle light, 
and I let her go.  The apparitions
are gone, but she sniffs the floor and yowls. 

Excerpted and revised from 31 October 2014. 

(Some of this happened.)

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast

Ghosts and Spirits

 

I believe that ghosts and spirit exist.
How can I not when they often assist?
Once I held my dead Grandpa’s hand while he led
but Mom and Dad saw me quite sick in bed.
Once the dog kept barking and pointed upstairs.
I went to look, but there was no one there.
Once Grandpa’s voice called “Maria, awake!”
Grandma stopped the car, her feet on the brake.
When I wrote a dear friend late in the night
And he called before I mailed it to say “I’m all right“     
He totaled his Mom’s car but walked away
When he heard me saying he’d be okay.
We are surrounded by folks alive or gone
who do what they can to keep us from harm.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast

Joshua Trees

 

source

I saw a desert once.
Called the Mojave, it
featured Joshua trees
with upraised fists that held
evergreen needles in
their strong knuckles over
shaggy brown bark.  They seemed
shy solitary trees
who stood in hot hot sand
ready to run away
in an instant.  I watched
for a very long time
but never saw them run.

For Sumana's prompt "Desert" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast