Thanksgiving 2011

Treasured time turning sour.  Cooking
hampered by confusing cupboards
and missing lids.
No cranberries and no yams.  I
know it's about family and forgiveness; not
stressing over short tempers.  I should be
grateful for another holiday with mom
instead of angry with dad's
vicious verbal
insults hurled in frustration.  His fear is
not managed well so I'm
going for a walk.




This form is a long line acrostic (the first letters of each line spell the subject).  Hopefully, you didn't notice the acrostic when you read the poem.  The prompt came from Margo.  I have also linked in to the Poets Rally.

And many thanks to the Poets Rally for this award.

Rancho Ynecita

When I was 15
   My father poked the oak fire with a stick
   And we ate hot spicy kolbasz
   Spitting fat and juice from the fire.

When I was 20
   I stayed a week
   And jogged in the evenings
   Jumping over the black hairy tarantulas
   Marching across the road, slow and deliberate,
   Like the ache in my heart.

When I was 50
   We walked the steep dry hills
   Through brown brambles and weeds
   Past broken bits of fence and rusting metal stakes
   Piled beneath overgrown oaks.

You wandered further
   While I waited in the car
   Pulling stickers out of my socks.
   Pulling stickers from my mind and memory.