America

America

1907 Greece; desitution.
"Go, son, go ~
This ship will take you to America."
The boy stows away.
"I love you, my son."
His mother weeps alone.

Her prayer was for his safety.

His mother's face fades
as waves wash away
his past;
the ship is bound for Argentina,
not America.

Hidden survival,
unimaginable
below decks.
"I love you," she had said.
But he's just a boy
and bad men find him.

Her prayer was for his safety.

He pleases the bad men,
and so he survives;
on the Argentine shore
a bad man says, "go, boy, go ~
this ship will take you to America."
This past, too,
will wash away.

Her prayer was for his safety.

The little boy finds America
waiting with open arms
like a mother's greeting,
and he is embraced;
no one has a past.
He hears her tears,
"I love you."

Her prayer was for his safety;
America, Land of the Free.

© ACG
30 June 2006
~ for my Mom and her Popche

July

July

Breezeless humid air
thick as water;
Standing in the sun
boiling, burning skin,
sweat merges;
One with Nature.

July descends
Like suffocation.

© ACG
29 June 2006

The Last Ribbon (haiku)

The Last Ribbon

weary heartbeat fades

helplessly farewell tears fall

Heaven's rainbow waits

© ACG

27 June 2006

for Lorraine

The Battle and Song

The Battle and Song

A birthday rolls in
like thunder rumbling,
heralding the ominous inevitable destruction,
the process of aging;

Mine's always happy
like a bright parade,
heralding the thundering echoing conquering of death,
a year's battle won;

My Captain led the fight,
my soul's troubadour,
he sang "calling calling calling come and get aboard the train,"
his voice a battle cry;

Alone ~ breathing raging,
his voice all around
became my North and South, East and West, my Compass Rose, my Song;
a lifelong love affair;

These two together
~ the Battle and Song ~
forged in fiery understanding so carefully wrought by Love,
now a birthday present;

"Just a CD," he says
as the gift is small,
yet I hear his love and comfort in the songs my Captain sings,
because he understands;

Most do not hear romance
in Johnny Cash's songs,
but my husband knows that Voice lives on within my heart and soul,
well-armed, I will fight on.

© ACG
23 June 2006

Summer Storm Approaching (Victorian haiku)

Summer Storm Approaching

perspiring men swear
softly as thunder rolls in
her parasol droops

© ACG
20 June 2006

Blue State Limerick

Blue State Limerick

There once was a woman named Alys,
Who looked upon some with great malice,
She read lots of books,
She knew they were crooks;
No surprise: they all came from Texas.

© ACG
20 June 2006

My Father

My Father

always treehouses
monster movies and kayaks
a grandchild’s first bath
Johnny’s smile and Aly’s laugh
a runner rare and renown

© ACG
18 June 2006
For Father’s Day

Peaceful Moments

Peaceful Moments

delicate night swoons
aching bones ease down softly
cricket’s lullaby

© ACG
17 June 2006

Summer Morning Coffee (tanka)

Summer Morning Coffee

willow branches wave
hot winds carry their whispers
a distant dog barks
muffled in rising thickness
warm coffee like summer’s air

© ACG
17 June 2006

The Mirror

The Mirror

Unavoidable,
shimmering mystery ~
it reveals all;

Shroud it ~
the Truth lies still
beneath the cloth;

Break it ~
its legacy lingers
seven long years;

Face it ~
bravely smile
at the crazy woman within.

© ACG
15 June 2006

Amber Alert (6 Days Before Father's Day)

Amber Alert

vicious slashes done
undeniably alone
one small soul survives

© Alys Caviness-Gober
14 June 2006
for Monte, and Collin

Journey (tanka)

Journey

summer rainfall dampens
fragrant pine trees drip sweetly
fog shrouds the mountains
long long road winds on and on
enchanting brown eyes twinkle

© ACG
07 June 2006
for Jimmy

Ma Bête Noir

Ma Bête Noir

Like secret whispers just beyond,
Like voices through a wall,
I strain to hear their messages ~
The words too lightly fall;

Like madness, in a mirror seen,
An image almost free,
These whispers, hidden gems conceal,
Murmur insanity;

Caressingly a gentle song
Into my brain comes soft,
A balm of hope, a light of life ~
And Desolation’s lost;

My Muse allows a Melody
To tease my Soul alive;
My Muse denies me Words of Truth,
Yet on for Truth I strive.

© ACG
01 June 2006