Archives for posts with tag: Missouri

st. joseph mo pool
Municipal Pool
by Mike Dailey

I remember my mother and her long auburn hair
She wore it in pig-tails way down to there
We’d head for the pool, my sisters and I
Along with our mother when we were small fry
I would turn left cause the boy’s locker’s there
The girls would turn right and they all had to share
I’d get my own basket to store all my clothes
With a safety pin numbered to keep track of those
I’d walk through a shower that I couldn’t avoid
I’d be cold and all wet and a little annoyed
Then I’d meet up with mom and we’d head for the pool
And hope that the water there wasn’t that cool
She’d jump in the pool then coax us all in
We would jump to her arms with a face full of grin
And if we were good and she thought it all right
We’d grab a pigtail as she dove out of sight
We’d hold our breath as she swam towards the drain
And then shoot to the surface like a runaway train
When your turn was up, another held on
And rode with our mother till her strength was all gone
Then we sit by the pool and listen to her
As she told us of stories before we even were
When the pool was larger, much larger by far
And she’d sit at the pool about right where we are
And the boys would show off on the high diving boards
And give her rides home in their Model A Fords
Then when we were tired and our strength was all spent
We get up, get our things, and back home we went
With the promise from mother we’d do it again
My sisters and I end the day with a grin

IMAGE: Vintage postcard of municipal swimming pool in St. Joseph, Missouri.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I love a challenge. When I saw the call for submissions I was thinking this was one that I would have to skip as I had nothing in my archives that touched on memories of pools or beaches; at least none from my youth. But I sat here at my computer and thought back on the days when we would go to the big municipal pool in our town and the words just came to me. I hope my sisters read the poem and have the same memories and feelings of our days with mom at the pool. I grew up in St. Joseph, Missouri,  where the Pony Express started and Jesse James ended.  The pool was one of three or four public pools in town but by far the largest.  Even saying that, I have seen pictures of the pool when my mother was a young girl and it was about twice the size.  I guess it became too large to manage efficiently so they filled in about half of it.

dailey-20151

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Mike Dailey lives in Ocean Isle Beach, North Carolina. He is a teller of stories in rhythm and rhyme. He has been writing poetry most of his life and has three published books of his poems with a fourth on the way. He leaves the introspective, deep personal poetry to others while he concentrates his poems on the interesting and often odd happening stories that most people overlook.

Pin Oak Lake
PIN OAK
by Olive L. Sullivan

The world is turning shades of blue,
a wall of clouds moving in from the west
to meet the darkening sky behind us.
Pin Oak Lake lies still, waiting,
a palette for the sky to fill.
Two hawks rise up, their cries
Eerie in the winter dusk,
their feathers striking the last notes of gold
from the setting sun. They
wheel and circle, a dance of rage
or love or something in between —
We cannot tell. It does not matter.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Pin Oak is a small fishing lake set like a little jewel in the Southwest Missouri prairie. It was a favorite place for me to walk with my dogs, Romeo and Ryoki, and my mother. The thing about my part of the Midwest — the Missouri/Kansas borderlands — is that, without mountains or skyscrapers or oceans to look at, we are left with an amazing panorama of sky. Whenever an incomer complains there is no scenery in Kansas, we tell them to look up. The sky says it all, if you know how to listen.

PHOTOGRAPH: “Pin Oak Lake (Missouri)” by F. Victor Sullivan.

Jar of Stars

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Olive L. Sullivan’s work has appeared in The Midwest Quarterly, The Little Balkans Review, A Room of One’s Own, and other journals. She teaches journalism at Missouri Southern State University and lives across the border in Kansas. When not writing, she travels frequently, paints, and works on renovating a 100-year-old house.

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EUCALYPTUS
by Jane Buel Bradley

The big eucalyptus in my alley
has a wrinkled trunk;
bark hangs in fraying ropes from
smooth branches, apricot color
brushed with green.
 
Today I pick up three crescents
from the swirl of leaves on the ground.
They feel like parchment in my hand,
and the seedbox under my foot
sends up a sharp fragrance.
 
I smelled it first as a child, coming
from Missouri to California,
choked up with asthma.
That fragrance, mixed with sea air,
cleared the way right down
to the bottom of my lungs
so I could take a deep breath
at last and sing.

###
“Eucalyptus” and other poetry by Jane Buel Bradley appears in the Silver Birch Press Green Anthology — a collection of poetry and prose by over 50 authors that explores the many connotations of the word “green” — available at Amazon.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jane Buel Bradley’s first book, World Alive,appeared from PEARL Editions when she was eighty-nine years old, and was followed two years later by Tree of Life.  Jane continued to write poetry until shortly before her death two months shy of her ninety-fourth birthday. Jane was a beloved children’s librarian in Long Beach, California, a political and environmental activist, and an inspiration to all who knew her. She was the niece of Ernest Thayer, author of the beloved classic baseball poem “Casey at the Bat.”

Photo: “Eucalyptus tree” by Ashley Brown, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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REVERENCE
by Julie Cadwallander-Staub

The air vibrated
with the sound of cicadas
on those hot Missouri nights after sundown
when the grown-ups gathered on the wide back lawn,
sank into their slung-back canvas chairs
tall glasses of iced tea beading in the heat
 and we sisters chased fireflies
reaching for them in the dark
admiring their compact black bodies
their orange stripes and seeking antennas
as they crawled to our fingertips
and clicked open into the night air.
In all the days and years that have followed,
I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced
the same utter certainty of the goodness of life
that was as palpable
as the sound of the cicadas on those nights:
my sisters running around with me in the dark,
the murmur of the grown-ups’ voices,
the way reverence mixes with amazement
to see such a small body
emit so much light. 
***
“Reverence” by Julie Cadwallander-Staub appears in the Silver Birch Press Summer Anthology — a 220-page collection of poetry and prose available in a free Kindle version on Sept. 17 & 18, 2013. Find your free Kindle of the Silver Birch Press Summer Anthology at Amazon.com. (If you don’t have a Kindle device, get free kindle reading apps for your computer at this link.)

We would appreciate any reblogs, tweets, or Facebook posts about this offer! 

Photo: “Fireflies at Night” by Sierra, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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AUTUMN POEM 
by Taigu Ryōkan

Showing its underside,
showing its face
a falling maple leaf.

Photo: “Falling red maple leaves, Boone County, Missouri” From the postcard book: Sierra Club Nature in Close-Up. ©Gay Bumgarner,1988, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Contact the photographer at her website gaybumgarner.comFind the 160-page book at Amazon here.

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EUCALYPTUS

by Jane Buel Bradley

The big eucalyptus in my alley

has a wrinkled trunk;

bark hangs in fraying ropes from

smooth branches, apricot color

brushed with green.

 

Today I pick up three crescents

from the swirl of leaves on the ground.

They feel like parchment in my hand,

and the seedbox under my foot

sends up a sharp fragrance.

 

I smelled it first as a child, coming

from Missouri to California,

choked up with asthma.

That fragrance, mixed with sea air,

cleared the way right down

to the bottom of my lungs

so I could take a deep breath

at last and sing.

###

“Eucalyptus” and other poetry by Jane Buel Bradley will appear in the upcoming Silver Birch Press Green Anthology — a collection of poetry and prose by over 50 authors that explores the many connotations of the word “green.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jane Buel Bradley’s first book, World Alive, appeared from PEARL Editions when she was eighty-nine years old, and was followed two years later by Tree of Life.  Jane continued to write poetry until shortly before her death two months shy of her ninety-fourth birthday. Jane was a beloved children’s librarian in Long Beach, California, a political and environmental activist, and an inspiration to all who knew her. She was the niece of Ernest Thayer, author of the beloved classic baseball poem “Casey at the Bat.”

Photo: “Eucalyptus tree” by Ashley Brown, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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REVERENCE

 Poem by Julie Cadwallander-Staub

 The air vibrated

with the sound of cicadas

on those hot Missouri nights after sundown

when the grown-ups gathered on the wide back lawn,

sank into their slung-back canvas chairs

tall glasses of iced tea beading in the heat

 and we sisters chased fireflies

reaching for them in the dark

admiring their compact black bodies

their orange stripes and seeking antennas

as they crawled to our fingertips

and clicked open into the night air.

In all the days and years that have followed,

I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced

the same utter certainty of the goodness of life

that was as palpable

as the sound of the cicadas on those nights:

my sisters running around with me in the dark,

the murmur of the grown-ups’ voices,

the way reverence mixes with amazement

to see such a small body

emit so much light. 

Photo: “Fireflies at Night” by Sierra, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Image

AUTUMN POEM 

by Taigu Ryōkan

Showing its underside,

showing its face

a falling maple leaf.

Photo: “Falling red maple leaves, Boone County, Missouri” From the postcard book: Sierra Club Nature in Close-Up. ©Gay Bumgarner, 1988, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Contact the photographer at her website gaybumgarner.com.Find the 160-page book at Amazon (for as low as 53 cents) here.