NaPoWriMo #6: Picture

I have a collection of US Postage stamps.  This one brought back a memory from 1992.

Sunset Beach
ocean on one side
fruit vendor on the other.

We stop
my mother-in-law and I.
She wants pineapple

to take back
to New Hampshire.
The owner says

he’ll set us up .
He arranges six in a box.
When we get back

to our rented house,
we unpack them
to make sure they’re good.

They aren’t.
The back sides are rotten.
We return

to the vendor
but Mr. Hippie Pony Tail
won’t take them back.

“Fine, I’ll just sit here
all day and show people
what you tried to sell us.

He takes them back,
gives us our money
and we head to the Dole Plantation.

Carry Me Back for the Monday Poetry Train

Carry Me Back….

…to the house
we rented
on Papailoa Drive
in Haliewa, Hawaii
during the winter
of 1992

…to fresh pineapple
chunks waiting
on the cupboard
for the kids
when they got home
from school

…to windows
full of the ocean

…to Erin building
sandcastles on the beach
and Nathan surfing
in the waves

…to liquid sunshine
followed by rainbows

…to footprints
trailing away
in the sand

…to five months
of heaven.

ABC Wednesday: C is for Carry

Darn, I'm already late with this round. I had such good intentions, too.

Click to see more ABC Wednesday submissions.
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Carry Me Back

…to the house
we rented
on Papailoa Drive
in Haliewa, Hawaii
during the winter
of 1992

…to fresh pineapple
chunks waiting
on the cupboard
for the kids
when they got home
from school

…to windows
full of the ocean

…to Erin building
sandcastles on the beach
and Nathan surfing
in the waves

…to liquid sunshine
followed by rainbows

…to footprints
trailing away
in the sand

…to five months
of heaven.

Poetry Train: The clouds are Bruises

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The clouds are bruises
outside my window
full of purple tears.

I wish I was lying on the beach
in Hawaii again, looking up at
the animal clouds, and
digging my feet into
the cool underlayer of sand
and watching Nay
try to surf.

He is a ballet dancer on skis
but here in the ocean he is
an elephant trying to waltz
flipping and flopping and flubbing up.
I can hear the waves chuckling
As they toss him once more.

But he is a golden boy and never
gives up.
I smile with pride
and know he will succeed
because the future is mapped
out in the friendly clouds.

I wish I was back there
feeling the warm sun
warm my son.

This is not a poem about
the past;
this is a poem about
the improbable,
about elephants that
leave the sky
and dance
on surfboards.

What I'm Longing For for Poetry Train

It isn't even winter yet but I'm sick of it already!

In 1991-92 we spent the winter in Hawaii and I'm "home"sick for it.

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I long for the house
we rented on Papailoa Drive
in Haleiwa, Hawaii
one winter.

I long for the front
windows full
of ocean like
television screens.

I long for the layers
of lacy waves
splashing on my
legs as I walked.

I long for a winter
with no responsibilities,
just one day of heaven
after another.

I long for one more
chance to appreciate
the miracle of
living by the sea.