Here is the latest installment of Poet’s Corner, presented by the Edmonds-based EPIC Poetry Group.

Remembering My Grandfather
(The Gift)

As time passes,
the silent snowfall,
nestles deep,
branching from trees to roof top eves,
gathering in spaces,
time tied to memories,
memories to time,
the bristles of my artist brush,
stiff, wiry, like my Grandpa’s beard,
paint memories of times past,
Grandpa, I can no longer touch you,
I can only touch the things that you touched,
hold the things that you held,
I still have your pocket watch,
a gold 21 jewel Bulova,
silent like your voice,
stored, deep, in the recesses of a top dresser drawer,
daily, I give 22 precise turns on the crown,
setting in motion,
an awakening- anticipated,
a slumber- broken,
the breath of each movement,
a gift- celebrated,
the coming of memories,
synced with time,
soon,
ticking without notice,
the heartbeat of time,
the memory of your voice,
fading, deep into the silent snowfall.

Gerald Bigelow

~ ~ ~ ~

Not Knowing

Not knowing my father,
is contained,
in the phantom,
of cloistered whispers,
a permanent irritant,
the constant grinding,
heart against mind,
a barren oyster,
creating pain,
not producing a pearl.

Gerald Bigelow
05 September 2012

~ ~ ~ ~

Warmth

Warmth is not just a crackling fire,
alive with wafting fragrant cedar aromas

it is more than a puppy snuggle,
on a cold winter’s night

warmth is an emotional statement of comfort!

for some of us,
The Blues, not always warm,
brings comfort

when Nina Simone sings,
“I’m gonna to put a spell on you”

-You believe-
-You feel-
You are warmed by, an emotion,
whose depth turns the soil of your soul

when Ray Charles sings,
darkness becomes light

the warmth of the Blues cuddles the soul,
diminishing the ingrained pains of generations

The Blues of being Black
is not merely the reality of being Black,
it is the constant,
daily reminder,
that you are Black!

The Blues is a mystical meditation,
reaching back,
not broken by separation,
the pain of the lash,
nor the threat of night riders,

The Blues is the blanket,
that covers the unspoken sins of society,

warmth is comfort!

try living a life,

never being comfortable,
eyes always on you,
constantly feeling like,
a lost lamb in a pack of wolves.

Gerald Bigelow
08 November 2020

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Previously published in the Arizona Centennial Anthology and in Between the Lines, Gerald Bigelow is a board member for EPIC Group Writers and chairs a monthly poetry group. He edited and contributed to Soundings from the Salish Sea (A Pacific Northwest Poetry Anthology).

In 2019, he was selected to read his poetry with the Washington State Poet Laureate.He helped establish a bi-monthly Poet’s Corner featurette in My Edmonds News to showcase the work of local poets.He has a new book of poetry on Amazon entitled “Memories Looking Through a Screen Door.”