Thread: House Keeping

House Keeping

It’s a way of cleaning,
the rearranging of furniture
cleaning away the dust-bunnies
that have gathered over the winter

like examined memories
turned from side to side
end to end. Moving them
from place to place
clearing the cobwebs,
refining the past

I move the memory of my brother
from the Huffy bicycle he rode to
the stone that bears his name

I see the glistening water of Lake Texhoma
its dead-carp smell in the bright summer sun
remembered through a buzz of alcohol

I cry for my sister’s two black eyes
the two cars totaled,
the blame all mine

I smell the rich black Oklahoma earth
turned and planted with cotton seed

I feel the sting of cotton bolls
on my back as I lie, a boy
in the harvest trailer
the crisp autumn-leaf smell
of cotton flung from the harvester’s
snout onto my chest burying me

I sweep away the regret of never
really knowing my father, try
not to blame my mother, after
all they were young,
so very very young.


Kenny A. Chaffin - 2/5/2012

You did a beautiful job of capturing memories of youth. I think the last stanza really gives it more meaning.

Thanks Damien, I appreciate your reading and comments!

I don't have time for an in-depth review at the moment. However, I want to let you know that there's a lot about this that I like. The main thing I wish is that you didn't say these were memories. As readers, we'd get that anyway. I'd rather you "move" your brother than "move" your memory. The imagery there becomes concrete and interesting, rather than the more abstract idea of moving a memory. If I have some time, I will return later with more specifics.

Thanks Angela, I appreciate your reading and comments and I see what you are saying, but I also think that would be a very different poem than this one is intended to be. I will certainly consider it though. Thank you.

Excellent job. I can resonate with this one in how the smallest things you come across in everyday life can send you back several years to the object's time. It's funny how vivid a memory can be and your poem does a great job of describing every detail that returns when nostalgia strikes.

Thank you Madaddicted, I appreciate your comment.

The details, the imagery, the voice all make for a vivid world of boyhood years.

First to the bookends. Nearly missed this. A good thing, though. You didn't shout "See I tied it all up?" Nice and subtle.

S1, L1 - It’s a way of cleaning,
S8, L1 - I sweep away the regret

Good specific:

from the Huffy bicycle he rode


Really great imagery throughout. Here are my favorites:

its dead-carp smell in the bright summer sun
remembered through a buzz of alcohol

Again the imagery: Strong (two black eyes) - where I hear your strongest voice:

I cry for my sister’s two black eyes
the two cars totaled,
the blame all mine


Excellent work, Kenny. Laurie

Thank you Silvermoon. I appreciate your input!