Breaking Words Episode 2


Episode 2 is out and ready for you to listen to. There are three poems on episode 2, A House, Nine Pelicans, and She.
I like old houses. The architecture is amazing, and maybe it’s because of my childhood but I think old houses have a more homey feel to them. Here are the words. Also, if you haven’t heard it, the new Minnesota song and video is really great. Alex Frecon got tired of the misconceptions about our great sate and decided to do a video, clearing some of them up:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H31bBU4EL44

A House:

At the end of a dirt road with corn fields on each side and woods behind, sits a house.
Shingles are missing, windows are broken and the gate hangs by one hinge.
It’s been like that for some time now. Empty. Alone.

The house was built 100 years ago by a young man and his bride. With trees cut
from the property, love and care, a home was raised. There were 10 children. And
happiness and sorrow, laughter and tears, Christmas’s and birthdays and funerals.

And many years later, times grew hard and a Great Grandchild lost the house to the bank.
It sat empty for a time and then a young couple came along. There is a picture of them
in a broken frame on the floor. Two women and a young girl, their daughter.

And they made this house a home. There was happiness and sorrow, laughter and tears,
Christmas’s and birthdays and funerals. The daughter grew up and went across the country
to college. The couple moved to be closer to her. And the house has been empty since.

Until just this very day. A car was seen driving up to the old house. A man got out with a
SOLD sign in his hand. And also out of the car came a women, three children and a dog.
And there will be Happiness and sorrow, laughter and tears, once again.

Nine Pelicans.

I take Sophie, my Husky, Malamute cross dog for a walk every day. We walk along trails along the river. There is lots of wildlife there like, pelicans, geese, ducks, deer, beaver, eagles, etc. We see them all the time and I have a habit of anthropomorphizing them because they sometimes really look like they’re thinking certain things that humans would think. If only they could talk to me!

Nine Pelicans:

Standing along the river bank,
dignified in their ungainly grace,
nine pelicans stand or sit and watch
like some prehistoric judges
as the river parades slowly past.

A little further along the bank
geese, flapping, fluttering, and
stomping in the mud, voice
their discontent, loudly, as if
the river is wholly unacceptable
in its proceeding and stance.

A deer, on the opposite bank,
lifts its head and observes
both groups, with measured
indifference, as it chews something
it found among the weeds.

One pelican raises its orange
bill in the direction of the deer
and then away, as if to say he’s
bored and determines this river
to be insufficient for his needs.

But he cannot align himself with the
unruly, peasant-like geese, he
being, after all, a pelican of
some standing, among his peers.

And of course, there’s “She.” I wrote this one because of the sadness of losing my wife Ann, to cancer. I have a 4 episode podcast about that called, “A New Life.” (anewlife.libsyn.com)

She:

And now I sit alone,
with reminders of her everywhere;
rocks and pictures and paintings.

And now I sit alone,
not lonely, but sad.
Sad at the loss of her,

who shared my life
and sang with me in the car.

She who shared my bed,
and my most intimate moments,
is gone now, forever.

She, who’s laugh made me laugh,
who’s tears made me cry,
is gone now, forever.
I don’t sing in the car, anymore.

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