CREEK ROAD GANG
Your Subtitle text
Evelyn Carli Lydon: 5 Poems
The Carver
He started with a solid block,
Cutting through the maple rock,
He chipped away, chipped away.
On the floor the wood shaved flakes
Piled deeper with each cut he makes.
He chipped away, chipped away.
The head now formed, and curved the nape,
As features of himself took shape.
He chipped away, chipped away.
It looks as he did, before life
Was burdened by hard times and strife.
He chipped away, chipped away.
For months he'd leave it on the shelf,
And then go back and find himself.
He chipped away, chipped away.
Pressed by struggles, worn with care,
His old face lined, his body spare.
He chipped away, chipped away.
Gnarled hands doing all they could,
Shaped love, acceptance, brotherhood.
He chipped away, chipped away.
His life reflected in the wood,
Complete at last. He understood,
And slipped away, slipped away.
copyright Evelyn Carli Lydon
Sunday Service
First to waken as the day breaks,
Mourning doves croon their soft song.
Finches outdo one another
Chatting in anticipation.
The oriole, reflecting sunshine
Tops the gabled peak of roof.
Bright vested robins, debonair,
Congregate on dew-damped grass.
Sparrows, like finials on fence posts
Await the service to begin.
Now the red robed mitred prince,
Poised on pine branch pulpit, pauses.
The silence tells him they are waiting.
The cardinal sings his hymn of praise.
First to waken as the day breaks,
Mourning doves croon their soft song.
Finches outdo one another
Chatting in anticipation.
The oriole, reflecting sunshine
Tops the gabled peak of roof.
Bright vested robins, debonair,
Congregate on dew-damped grass.
Sparrows, like finials on fence posts
Await the service to begin.
Now the red robed mitred prince,
Poised on pine branch pulpit, pauses.
The silence tells him they are waiting.
The cardinal sings his hymn of praise.
copyright Evelyn Carli Lydon
Marblehead Morning
Sun pokes through the fog-banked strands of dawn
Sending diamond paths that reach the quay.
A lobsterman drops traps into the bay,
And colored floats to mark where they have gone.
Now an East wind cools with ocean scents.
Waves leave puddled lace upon the stones.
A floating pier rides swaying, creaks and moans,
And from a wire a mourning dove laments.
Dropping traps into a sea of tears,
I dredge memories from a weighted sieve
And bring you back to me again, to live
The treasured magic days of all our years.
Barefoot, we imprint the tide-marked sand,
Skip rocks, find limpets, build a castle tall,
Surround it with a Sisyphean wall,
Pledge love forever, walking hand in hand.
We vow if one of us is left behind,
To see for both the beauty of the shore,
Of sunrise, sunset, knowing there is more.
I share it now with you, in heart and mind.
Sun pokes through the fog-banked strands of dawn
Sending diamond paths that reach the quay.
A lobsterman drops traps into the bay,
And colored floats to mark where they have gone.
Now an East wind cools with ocean scents.
Waves leave puddled lace upon the stones.
A floating pier rides swaying, creaks and moans,
And from a wire a mourning dove laments.
Dropping traps into a sea of tears,
I dredge memories from a weighted sieve
And bring you back to me again, to live
The treasured magic days of all our years.
Barefoot, we imprint the tide-marked sand,
Skip rocks, find limpets, build a castle tall,
Surround it with a Sisyphean wall,
Pledge love forever, walking hand in hand.
We vow if one of us is left behind,
To see for both the beauty of the shore,
Of sunrise, sunset, knowing there is more.
I share it now with you, in heart and mind.
copyright Evelyn Carli Lydon
Song of the Whistler
From rain-streaked days
Of life without you, I retreat
To that empty place
That once held all we were.
Sun brightens rooms of memories,
And sounds of children laughing
Echo through the walls.
Curled in your chair, Old Freddie,
Listening, lifts his head
And waits. The threshold creaks
A chord beneath your step
As whistling, you return to all of us
As if you never left.
From rain-streaked days
Of life without you, I retreat
To that empty place
That once held all we were.
Sun brightens rooms of memories,
And sounds of children laughing
Echo through the walls.
Curled in your chair, Old Freddie,
Listening, lifts his head
And waits. The threshold creaks
A chord beneath your step
As whistling, you return to all of us
As if you never left.
copyright Evelyn Carli Lydon
Snow Screen
At last, at last today the snowflakes fell
And smothered flames within my private hell
A white confetti covering all the dirt
And hidden embers of an old forgotten hurt.
In whirling alabaster fantasy
I live again the child that once was me.
At last, at last today the snowflakes fell
And smothered flames within my private hell
A white confetti covering all the dirt
And hidden embers of an old forgotten hurt.
In whirling alabaster fantasy
I live again the child that once was me.
copyright Evelyn Carli Lydon
Biographical Note: Evelyn Carli Lydon was born in Buffalo, New York, the daughter of a college English professor. She developed her love of language, books and poetry as she delved into her father's extensive collection of books. She spent part of every school year in Massachusetts, an interesting contrast to her school experience in Buffalo. What she wanted most as a child was to have children and be a mother. Her biggest joys in life have been her family, her children's families and her cat. She enjoys creative activity, including painting, drawing and poetry, but says that writing gives her an outlet for the feelings that would otherwise spill all over the place!
