November 2018 -- Meditation
October 2018 -- Benediction
September 2018 -- Passages
August 2018 -- Feeding the Beast
July 2018 - One Can Have Knowledge...
June 2018 -- The Unsinkable Molly Drown
May 2018 -- Advice to my Grandson
April 2018 -- Awaiting Idunn
March 2018 -- Flight
February 2018 -- Lakesong
January 2018 -- Schrödinger's Cat
December 2017 -- Daybreak
October 2017 -- Night Watch
September 2017 -- The Princess
August 2017 - Pelham
July 2017 -- Siena
June 2017 -- Loyal, Straight, and True
May 2017 -- A Thousand Flowers
April 2017 -- Oboe Rap
March 2017 - March Madness
February 2017 -- The Cost of Doing Business
January 2017 -- Reflection at a Winter Window
December 2016 -- The Creation
November 2016 -- Hemolymph Moon
October 2016 -- Vortex
September 2016 -- Do You?
Ready of not, the Holiday Season is upon us. We've made it through Thanksgiving, a celebration where memories of family and feast outlast the few extra pounds we are currently carrying. Now we look forward to Chanukah, St Nicholas Day, Bodhi Day, at least two Feasts (Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe), the Solstice, Tohji-Taisai, the honoring of Wang-Mu, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Years Eve and a few I've no doubt overlooked. Choose your favorites, or just go for the gusto and celebrate all of them. They each have something to teach us about who we are.
Because December can get complicated, our December Poem of the Month is an uncomplicated reflection on growing old on your own terms, or perhaps just continuing to grow as the years go by, without letting "old" define you. Enjoy "Grandpa," about nobody in particular.
Where Old Fliers Come to Roost
Grandpa’s hair was grey before it started falling out,
He once could hear a pin drop, now he can’t hear Grandma shout,
He should be getting old and fat, but Grandpa just stays slim,
Cause he sold the television and he’s sweating at the gym.
He says that he’s retired but that doesn’t mean retarded,
His working days are over but his fun days have just started,
He’s dusting off his SCUBA tanks and going for a swim,
Then he’s biking down the road to his appointment at the gym.
He has a dozen cameras and some lenses that he lugs
Around the world to places where he’s photographing bugs,
He’s happy in the jungle and a swamp would suit him fine,
Where the critters are abundant and the stars all brightly shine.
He’s writing down his memoir and I guess it’s mostly true,
And writing books for children cause that’s what he likes to do,
And sometimes he writes poetry that I don’t understand,
Or writes another song though he no longer has a band.
My grandpa’s always busy cause he has it in his head,
More years have passed behind him than the ones he has ahead,
Too many days forgotten, too many friends are gone,
So he laces up his shoes and runs another marathon.
His time is now his own so he’s obliged to always use it
In ways that make him happy cause time’s worthless once you lose it,
So while the sun is shining and it’s warm out on the water,
He’s coming by my house and going fishing with my daughter.
Lee Alloway / 2018
Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff. Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.
Poem of the Month
Ancient Eagle Press