This is my first post of November which means I haven't put anything up in 6 days. That is okay, I've been writing in my notebook and just haven't put anything up yet. In my notebook I've been experimenting with longer poetry. I went to see Tess Gallagher speak a few weeks ago and I was amazed at how long some of her poetry is. I suppose I most read shorter stuff for my classes because when we workshop a fellow classmate's poem we have a length restriction, and in my other classes we can only read poetry that can easily be analyzed in fifty minutes or so. So I've been trying my hand at writing some longer poetry. This poem is about my grandparents house. My grandparents have passed on and the family had to go through an immense amount of stuff in their house. It was truly staggering to see the amount of stuff that my grandparents owned. Anyways, this poem is about going through the stuff, remembering my grandparents, and briefly touches on how I regret not getting to know them better before they passed on (it was hard living in Hawaii and having them live in Iowa).
Old House
Over the summer,
I went to Iowa.
I drove.
I don't know why.
I went to my grandparents house,
but they didn't live there anymore,
they died the year before.
I didn't attend a funeral,
or tell them good bye,
it was too far away,
but now I am driving to Iowa
to go through their things.
I was told to ask for anything I wanted,
there was plenty to go around.
Told to ask for something to remind me of
people I did not really know.
I did miss them,
they were always kind to me
always loving.
But I had only seen them a handful of times
in the older years of my life.
Now I was asked to take something
to remind me, from a house
overflowing with meaning.
There is twenty years of wrapping paper in one drawer,
and alcohol that expired twelve years ago in the basement,
did you know alcohol can expire,
I didn't.
Over a hundred decks of playing cards,
and all those little soaps
taken from hotel bathrooms.
What do you do with that stuff?
But it isn't all worthless,
far from it.
Fur coats made from foxes,
(you can tell because they still have
their little feet and faces)
and a crystal dining room set,
it will go nicely with my bowels
from Ikea.
Souvenirs from Nazi Germany
and apartheid Africa
and Alaska
Sweden
Ireland
Hawaii
and the passports proving
their worldliness.
And there are books,
walls lined with books,
and I love books,
so I ask for those books.
And the hats.
The hats are really special.
Inside one of the hats there is
a business card my grandfather used
years earlier. It is not just
worn yellow paper that reads
chairman. And I like having it,
I still keep it in the hat
so I can reach up and be
reminded of grandparents
I had the privilege of meeting.
Copyright 2007 William Curb
Old House
Over the summer,
I went to Iowa.
I drove.
I don't know why.
I went to my grandparents house,
but they didn't live there anymore,
they died the year before.
I didn't attend a funeral,
or tell them good bye,
it was too far away,
but now I am driving to Iowa
to go through their things.
I was told to ask for anything I wanted,
there was plenty to go around.
Told to ask for something to remind me of
people I did not really know.
I did miss them,
they were always kind to me
always loving.
But I had only seen them a handful of times
in the older years of my life.
Now I was asked to take something
to remind me, from a house
overflowing with meaning.
There is twenty years of wrapping paper in one drawer,
and alcohol that expired twelve years ago in the basement,
did you know alcohol can expire,
I didn't.
Over a hundred decks of playing cards,
and all those little soaps
taken from hotel bathrooms.
What do you do with that stuff?
But it isn't all worthless,
far from it.
Fur coats made from foxes,
(you can tell because they still have
their little feet and faces)
and a crystal dining room set,
it will go nicely with my bowels
from Ikea.
Souvenirs from Nazi Germany
and apartheid Africa
and Alaska
Sweden
Ireland
Hawaii
and the passports proving
their worldliness.
And there are books,
walls lined with books,
and I love books,
so I ask for those books.
And the hats.
The hats are really special.
Inside one of the hats there is
a business card my grandfather used
years earlier. It is not just
worn yellow paper that reads
chairman. And I like having it,
I still keep it in the hat
so I can reach up and be
reminded of grandparents
I had the privilege of meeting.
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