Reflections

James Elliott Foster

Description

James Elliott Foster gives us over 100 poems and 40 illustrations to describe what he sees and how he feels about the world around him.

"Reflections" is a very personal and very unique view of the world, but it also speaks to the human condition...a condition each of us shares with Mr. Foster.

As Mr. Foster puts it, "While [each of us] will experience a different combination of moments, phases, and places, I'm hoping my poetry will have meaning to [everyone] – will trigger memories, of the moments, phases, and places that are special in [each reader's life]"

Poetry Review

Sujets

• Loisirs
• Collections photographiques
• Photographie Créative
• Themes
• Subjects
• Photography

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 23 juin 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456617462
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

REFLECTIONS
By
James Elliott Foster


Copyright 2013, James Elliott Foster
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
Published in hard copy formats by Aventine Press 11/05
Published in e-book format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1746-2

Dedication
Dedicated to My Wife,
To Our Family,
And to all those
Who have taught me –
Formally
Or informally.

*****

Reflections
I look in the mirror
And I think:
I’m a set of reflections –
Of “special moments”,
Old and new,
Of all life’s phases
I’ve been through,
And all the places
I’ve been to…
 
I look again,
And I think:
Maybe I should share
Those reflections –
At least, a few…

*****

Introduction
Some people sing in the shower; others write “personal poetry”. I do both – for the same reason. I have to. It’s in my nature. I suspect it’s the same for the birds that sing in the trees – it’s in their nature, too.
 
Some may say my poetry is pedestrian – not worthy to be shared publicly . They may be right. I’m too close to it to be objective. Like the birds, I just sing – privately and publicly, right or wrong.
 
A small number may say, “hey, his stuff isn’t that bad…I kinda like one or two of his poems.”
 
This book of poetry and illustrations – this set of songs – is an offering to that small number.
 
James Elliott Foster
September, 2005
*****

*****

*****
Part I: Moments


Singular Moments
There are singular moments –
Snapshots in time
Which are so stirring, so moving,
That they are quickly
And completely
Interwoven
With and by our senses
Into our very fabric,
And they remain
With us,
Forever,
Even though
We experience them
Only once.
 
Like a moment
In Williamsburg,
On a warm June evening,
With fireflies sprinkling the Common,
And magnolias scenting the air,
And sweet chilled wine
Shared
With a strolling balladeer…
That moment became
And always will be
Part of my being,
Even though
I experienced it
Only Once.
 
Or like a cold gray moment
In a rain-soaked October morning,
When I heard the muffled sobs
In my brother’s throat,
And felt his trembling shoulders
Beneath my arm,
As we huddled
Graveside
Near his stillborn son’s
Small white coffin…
Part of me.
Even though
I experienced it
Only once.
 
Those singular moments,
And countless,
Priceless others –
Good
And bad –
Have made me
A man
Sensitive
To such moments…
A man
Trusting
In what those moments
Give to us…
Only once.

*****

*****

1. In the Back of the Car
When I was five,
My sister was eight,
And we loved to
Take rides in the car.
 
Both Sis and I
Would sit in the back,
While our parents
Would sit in the front.
 
And she and I
Would play in the back,
While our parents
Would talk about “ plans ”.
 
We loved our games,
And we didn’t know
That our parents
Thought something was wrong .
 
“She’s slow,” they said,
“ Retarded ...too slow .”
But we never
Could tell what they meant .
 
And then one night,
Our father said, “kids,
Bundle up, now –
We’re taking a trip.”
 
We grabbed our coats,
My sister and I,
Then we ran out
And jumped in the car.
 
We rode along,
And played in the back,
While our parents
Just looked straight ahead.
 
Then pretty soon,
We came to this gate,
Where my father
Got out in the snow,
 
And Mom said, “Son,
“You stay here with me
While your father
Takes Sis to that house.”
 
So Sis got out,
And went with our dad,
While my mother
Remained there with me.
 
Then Sis and Dad
Went into that house –
But our father
Returned by himself.
 
When Dad came back,
He started the car,
And we left Sis –
Alone in that house.
 
Afraid to ask,
I sat in the back,
And I wondered,
What happened to Sis?
 
I wondered, too –
Alone in the back –
Whether I would
Be able to play …
 
…And whether Dad
Would take me someday,
And he’d leave me –
Alone … in some house…

*****

*****

2. Dung Beetles and Honey Bees
There’s a bunch of insect workers
Scattered ‘round the countryside…
I found a few when I was ten,
And living on a farm.
 
One morning as the sun came up,
When my milking chores were done,
I took the cows to graze awhile –
To pastures on the hill.
 
We started down the same old path –
(Piles of dung were ev’rywhere)…
I came across the weirdest sight:
A beetle on a ball.
 
I wondered where the ball came from,
And how the beetle found it,
Until I spied a second bug…
A-rolling in the dung !
 
I watched awhile – the cows went on –
The beetles kept on working…
Each rolled a ball, then rolled away –
But backwards down the path!
 
The cows were at the pasture fence –
(I got there in a hurry) –
I let them in and closed the gate,
Then sat down on a rock.
 
That’s when I saw this other sight
That also made me wonder:
A group of bees upon a stump –
(They formed a kind of ring)...
 
They stood and watched another bee
Performing in the middle…
He danced and pranced, then flew away –
Those others tagged along…
 
I chased them to a clover patch
In the center of the field…
The dancing bee had led them there –
I don’t know how he did…
 
Just then I saw a bunch of ants
That were headed for their hill,
Those ants were loaded – every one –
With seeds, and twigs, and scraps…
 
I wondered how those ants could know
Exactly what to carry,
And how those tiny little legs
Could handle all that weight…
 
I sat there in the field that day,
Surrounded by those workers,
And thought: how strange and marvelous
This world of ours can be!

3. Humane
He was a purebred German Shepherd,
Standing waist-high to his master…
 
He was three years old, as black as coal,
And our family called him “King”.
 
He was a loyal, loving, trusting
Dog that never gave us problems…
 
He was my best friend, and I was his,
And we kept each other safe –
 
Until some neighbor children teased him,
And he grabbed one by the