Some call it progress

[dcmarti1]

With only a fan to circulate the night-hot
Texas air, with only a neighbor's wireless
and my USB adapter that constantly
drops and reconnects, with only a 6x9 PDF
template for self-publishing on Amazon,
there cannot be shaded benches at the Fountain,
there cannot be noon-time glances with nods
leading down the path to Rock Creek,
there cannot be red-lit rooms where names
are never exchanged, never whispered.
No, there cannot be many things
that were once - and maybe should be – paradigm.
There cannot be Saturday mornings
waiting for Nancy, just as there cannot be
Saturday nights waiting for almost anyone.
There cannot be the agitated “Doors are closing”
and there cannot be the five hundred feet
to the grocery store sans parking lot.
There can, however, be ambulances and IV bags,
multiple doctors appointments, hurricane repairs,
and there can be simple, children's card games
with the mother who can still remember your name.

[dcmarti1]

I'm none to sure about the last games/name. Too close for the rest to be non-rhyming.

Maybe:

and there can be simple, children's games of cards
with the mother who can still remember your name.

Maybe?

[tonyv]

Marti, this one is another favorite. There is too much good in this to start quoting.

The first twelve lines set a palpable mood to which I can relate. There are poems I've written that I'm loath to read, to revisit, but those are some of my favorite poems. Here's a link to a terrific article that better expresses the sentiments I'm trying to describe: Nostalgia's unexpected etymology explains why it can be so painful.

Tony

[dcmarti1]

7 hours ago, tonyv said:

Marti, this one is another favorite. There is too much good in this to start quoting.

The first twelve lines set a palpable mood to which I can relate. There are poems I've written that I'm loath to read, to revisit, but those are some of my favorite poems. Here's a link to a terrific article that better expresses the sentiments I'm trying to describe: Nostalgia's unexpected etymology explains why it can be so painful.

Tony

FASCINATING article! Thank you, AND thank you for reading.

[David W. Parsley]

Marti, I was sure as I was reading this that I had encountered the best lines in the poem with these:

On ‎5‎/‎5‎/‎2019 at 8:03 PM, dcmarti1 said:

There cannot be Saturday mornings
waiting for Nancy, just as there cannot be
Saturday nights waiting for almost anyone.

But that final line is one that completes the ritual of devastation and hard-won salvation.

Thanks (I think!),

 - Dave

 

[dcmarti1]

3 hours ago, David W. Parsley said:

Marti, I was sure as I was reading this that I had encountered the best lines in the poem with these:

But that final line is one that completes the ritual of devastation and hard-won salvation.

Thanks (I think!),

 - Dave

 

Just FYI: Nancy was the lady I went to at the Hair Cuttery evry 8th or 9th Saturday.  :)

"Ritual of devastation." That's mighty in itself. Thank you!

[Tinker]

Hi Marti,  In some minor ways I have been living this poem for the past 3 years waiting for my husband to have a miracle recovery or die.  But in my situation, the miracle was a possibility. The devastation was a surprise, he wasn't supposed to fall down that rabbit hole, the surgery was supposed to fix his problems and he was supposed to recover easily.  It wasn't easy and it took him 2 1/2 years to recover while it was in and out of the ER and hospital stays, changing diapers and checking to see if he was still breathing in the night.  For much of that time he  couldn't even play a simple child's card game, he couldn't concentrate that long.  My greatest concern was that if he did survive, would his mind?  His quick intellect was slowed and jumbled, memory confused.    My business afforded me the luxury of paying for part time help and providing me with an escape or I probably would have gone under. I am happy to say, it is over.  He got his miracle. He may be a bit slower, have less energy, but clarity and some of his strength are back.  Back enough to spend a couple of months on our boat in Mexico without my assistance.  

This poem brilliantly, painfully shares the desolation of caring for a loved one.  I like the rhythm of the last two lines as you originally wrote them.  I wouldn't change a comma.   This is an important piece.  

~~ Judi

[badger11]

I like the original closing lines as well Marti. The rhyme is not an issue,

best

Phil

[dcmarti1]

5 hours ago, badger11 said:

I like the original closing lines as well Marti. The rhyme is not an issue,

best

Phil

Thanks, buddy. :)

[dcmarti1]

12 hours ago, Tinker said:

Hi Marti,  In some minor ways I have been living this poem for the past 3 years waiting for my husband to have a miracle recovery or die.  But in my situation, the miracle was a possibility. The devastation was a surprise, he wasn't supposed to fall down that rabbit hole, the surgery was supposed to fix his problems and he was supposed to recover easily.  It wasn't easy and it took him 2 1/2 years to recover while it was in and out of the ER and hospital stays, changing diapers and checking to see if he was still breathing in the night.  For much of that time he  couldn't even play a simple child's card game, he couldn't concentrate that long.  My greatest concern was that if he did survive, would his mind?  His quick intellect was slowed and jumbled, memory confused.    My business afforded me the luxury of paying for part time help and providing me with an escape or I probably would have gone under. I am happy to say, it is over.  He got his miracle. He may be a bit slower, have less energy, but clarity and some of his strength are back.  Back enough to spend a couple of months on our boat in Mexico without my assistance.  

This poem brilliantly, painfully shares the desolation of caring for a loved one.  I like the rhythm of the last two lines as you originally wrote them.  I wouldn't change a comma.   This is an important piece.  

~~ Judi

Thank you for being so open about your situation, too. And thank you for the kind critique.

[David W. Parsley]

One never knows how relevant a poem might be when it is spread before an audience.  Glad to hear Judi and her husband have come through their own ordeal.

Keep sharing your insights, Marti!

  - Dave