Sammi’s Weekender #228 (portmanteau)

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Little Blue Suitcase

Mom’s sister,
Lorry, was so apropos,
most correct old maid aunt
in navy blue turban with pin,
granny glasses,
self-assured in sensible shoes,
purse over left forearm,
her small portmanteau
gripped right,
I loved Lorry, now I know.
But then one day,
I had to let Lorry go.
Back then,
what the hell did I know,
long, long ago?


Look both ways, to the past for memories,
to the future for better days.
Mind the gaps in memory but hold on to what you can.

Sammi’s Weekender #227 (ramshackle)

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Revelation of Genesis

Deserted, dangerous
Ramshackle houses
Former family homes, once
Functional buildings,
Businesses, barns, refuge
From the hot Texas sun
Or driving storms of
Wind and rain.

Suppertimes, nights of dreams,
Homework, plans to plow
Cotton-farm acres.

Now it’s all abandoned, forgotten,
Seen but unnoticed or ignored
Peppered along the otherwise
Scenic road drives on, once dirt,
Now blacktop paved roads
Memories forgotten or
Buried in nearby family
Cemeteries. Unwanted,
Unloved by ungrateful
Outsiders who see
Only haunted eyesores, sadness.

A mess to be cleaned up
By the next generation.
Past lives carried into the
Graveyards of the forgotten.


Look both ways and wonder.
Who were they? What were they like? Where are they now?
Pay attention to the message and mind the gaps.

Poetry: Proudly Pissed


I wasn’t born in coal mines,
though I like to say I was—
I’ve never mined underground for coal,
yet it’s a deep soulful part of me.

It’s about heritage in my genes,
not just my father; grands as well,
going back hundreds of years,
to mines in Scotland, Wales, and Ireland.

Spoiled me. Never as tough, rugged, or ruthless
as they. No. Not descended
from fucking royalty, no dukes or counts.
Dirty, stinking, poor souls; a legacy
facing daily underground misery.

Piss-poor. Hard core. The Molly Maguires,
maybe for sure, perhaps not. I confess.
I’m tribal. My people: a joyless pride.


Look both ways and wonder.
What were they like? Who will they be?
Mind the gaps.
Turn the page.