meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2019 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   329200 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

Where The Weird Actually Tried To Turn Pro

Accountants

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

I Long For Stars



Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

I Write This To Remember

Errands (WHAT ARE YOUR UNOFFICIALLY APPOINTED ERRANDS?)

And I Smile ( Little Little Bird)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Dragons

the earth is our mother

All Beings Considered

This Snake

All Of Who I Was

Where The Dead Don't Mind...

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Peace Where There Is No Opportunity

What Could a Death Meet-Up Have To Offer?

Someone Send Out A Search Party

I Wish God Had Better Magic

Canis Latrans

What's With The Lead Overshoes?

How Does It, How Do You Matter

THE POCKET DOOR

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

The Hoping

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Max on the max


me and my love
are riding the max
its near midnight
a sunkist-orange lunar eclipse is peering in
through open windows
a prescient wind is rifling through our hair

across the way
the Eastbounder passes slowly creaking
a man glides through our open window...

its Max

oh my God
Max on the max
long-dead Max
our friend
the poet the playwright
the lover of America's national past-time

hello he greets us
its me,
Max on the max

we gape open-mouthed
almost not believing our eyes

not so polite to look
so surprised
ask THE question
he says...

well, is there baseball in
heaven
dear Maximillian?

yes there is
and I watch my son
playing ball
every chance I can get
he says

we pause
caught in the tangle of the wind
caught in the tangle of his words
caught in the tangle of our memory
of so much baseball

the baseball of our youth
the penant races of our former town
and Max's final season

and now the endless one
up in heaven
with all the boys of summer


Copyright October 12 2015 2:11 pm PST
All Legal Copyrights Are Reserved By This Author/Writer
Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World and DREAMS
Legal Copyright to this site title as well

dearest Max...father, friend, baseball lover,
 teacher and all around
wise counselor...how you are missed and not replaceable.


This is the Eastbound Max Train going across the Steel Bridge.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem