The Drumming of the Woodpecker & Faded Over-halls

When I was but fifteen-years old, my grandfather was a good, if not great hunter, a sportsman one might say, something I never quite acquire a taste for. That was around around l956, I suppose, take or give a little, a year here a year there. Now that I look back on those wondrous days [for times plays an interesting game with our memory banks, time, the commodity that once spent, will never return] for he is dead now, I wrote a poem to remember him by, possibly the only one my memories can recall as I"ve gotten older. Matter of fact, I wrote two poems, the first called, "�The Drumming of the Woodpecker,"� and "�Faded Overalls,"� I never shared them with anyone, but for you, especially for you, I shall:

The Drumming of the Woodpecker

The woodpecker"s dry hammering dims, draws out other sounds: --of the aged"�,the dying away; "�yet, the squirrels, pheasants, turkeys, bears and coons, the deer, running, running from the dogs, and their Masters of the night"�: could hardly be heard on their last winter"s plight

[the old man sat by his friend]:

"�Pour me another whisky!"� said he [the old man] holding out a tin dipper [to his friend]; "�sitting in a rocking chair. A quarrel then broke out about what? when they were to go hunting again. Being as young as I was [back then] I simply stood by the screened-in doorway, staring, staring "�not knowing then, listening"�

"�scorned by the gloom of time"�; decaying within, gutted like a dead fish of any healthy internal organs, "�neither of them said a word, not one word [but they were both wishing]; for a commodity spent.

Faded Over-halls

Battered and faded over-halls, an old straw hat"�the barn we, he and my brother and I lived in, and ma, a miniature lot of land, in this eternal restless city, is where we lived, way back when. I remember the eyes, the eyes of an owl, in the tree next door, staring at me, in the waking day"�: blood, skin and bones, was nothing compared to the memories one puts down to rest for another

the lucid, unquenchable and not so thought through memories, left behind

now I know why he said what he said, for I remember, commit to memory him saying: "�Once you show fear you are alone,"� "�"�when you let go of everything to become lost, nothing in the world can harm you."� Now I understand"�