Shrines
My grandfather’s inkwell,
a small silk doll,
and a red bucket filled with
multicolored pens.
Dried lavender in a pale blue
vase,
poetry books in jumbled rows,
words piled like salt cairns
holding the tide.
Among tattered scraps of
wisdom,
fragments of prayers, the
past folded
into long white pages, I seek
my inheritance.
Maralee Gerke lives and
writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes
herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit
Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers
Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose
accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow
Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown Café. She recently recorded 4
poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at
oregonpoeticvoices.org One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be
printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts.
I like "Shrines" poet Maralee, An inheritance of valuable
ReplyDeletememories making it worth more than money.
Great recorded thoughts. thank you.
Yancy
Dear Maralee,
ReplyDeleteI echo Yancy's insightful comment. Intriguing how common things take on a special spiritual significance. Your poem takes me there!
Thank you,
Michael
Loved your wonderful poem that reminds me of my rows and rows of books with tattered papers and words of wisdom recorded from the books I love. What a wonderful inheritance you are leaving for your children, the gift of words.
ReplyDeleteLove,Charlene
Wonderful, enjoyed it very much!
ReplyDeletethank you, Maralee, you artfully express the tingle of goodness that we feel when we touch the things that our departed loved ones touched...
ReplyDeleteGreat images and beautifully composed - thank you for sharing
ReplyDelete