Dropping the Party Line
Dust settles
its shiny patina
immortalized in time
whispering
have you heard?
have you heard?
Mrs Wells' daughter,
Julie, lost...
the baby had...
poor dear...
I picked some apples
and made the family a pie
it's settin' by the window now...
so glad the weather's
coolin' off...
I'll drop it off...
on my way...
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
they landed
at Utah
and Omaha
Anzio
and Salerno
a line
of men
running
onto the beaches
falling...
the pastor says
we must rejoice
in our victory...
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Joe's calf took...
and the words
are lost
gobbled up like
apple pie and ice cream
at Mr. Simon's barnraiser
click.
click.
and no one hears
what Joe's calf took
on the party line
Hello? Hello?
is there someone else
on the line
Is that you, Mary?
I heard your son
Billy is coming
home...
Did you hear
Agnes' boy fell
so sad
nineteen
some place called
Iwo Jima
she's takin' it
hard
Are you there Mary?
and silently the line
holds time
still
and Agnes
replaces
the receiver
She walks out the door
no longer strong
enough
to hear
the words
she was never meant to hear
We're sorry to inform you...
ringing
in her ears
she cannot hold
the party line
and drops
the conversation.
and far away
on a blood drenched beach
guns roar
and planes soar
dropping
deadly cylinders
of war
and a boy drops
and apples fall
rotting
to the ground
from the tree
standing outside
the window
of a room
where the party line
was broken.
**********************************************
This poem is submitted to One Shot Sunday hosted by One Stop Poetry. To see other poems submitted and the conclusion of the interview with photographer Rob Hanson, please visit the site. (Thanks Glynn for the paragraph explaing One Shot and the inspiration to write!)
26 comments:
A beautiful conversational tapestry of life, death, and plenty in between. Great poem.
Sad. Of all the news spread by the wire, that would be the worst.
Thanks Dustus. I love how a photo can provoke the muse to rise.
Thanks for dropping by Randy -- I can't imagine -- and yet it happens all the time, that mother's and father's receive such news via a phone line.
Cheers!
wow this went here there and everywhere in the convo, feeling like a great community and then you really brought it home...tight emo by the end...well spoke...
wow powerful stuff loved the gossipy conservation in this ... shame most bad things and some good things are first heard still via the phone. I loved your poem thank you
A great write...with lots sadness & apple pie in between...I enjoyed it a lot! (and yes, a terrific name!)
words drifting
all kind
on the party
line
with the apple pie you created this home feeling for me_and outside just horrible things happen and suddenly it's not outside any more but hits like meteors into the lives..powerful
Thanks Brian -- I was a bit surprised where it went!
It is a shame Kez -- I still dread middle of the night calls -- they feel so fear-ridden even when they're not!
Thanks for dropping by.
Hi Louise -- I was on a party line once upon a time -- and even though I tried to avoid eavesdropping, sometimes it was impossible not to!
:)
nance -- your graceful way of weaving your response into poetry that mirrors the words on the page is awesome!
Thank you.
Claudia!!!!
I was wondering where you were and then this morning, I found you.
I rely on my Bloglist to update me on when people log in -- and of course, there you had gone and moved over to wordpress!
So very happy to have found you again!!!
Wow, what a timely evocation of the not so distant past.
I can't imagine if it were my son going off to war. I wouldn't sleep til he got back. it must be an exquisite and exhausting torture, worrying, let alone actually receiving the worst news...
Hi Fireblossom, I can't imagine it either -- a friend of my daughters from school joined the military and went to Afghanistan and was killed. It was tragic and horrifying and sad.
Thanks for dropping in.
Tragic, beautiful, intense. I loved it! I grew up in a rural area at a time when many friends and relatives living in the country still had "party lines", and I recall the listening, gossip and information exchanged. I hadn't thought about that in years. Thank you for bringing a slice of history back into focus in such a moving way!
Recalling a time when our family was part of a party line and how annoying it could be. I like how you drove home the unintended consequences of such conversations. Some still learn tragic news in highly disturbing ways.
Evocative poem!
Somewhat like an old quilt, each piece holding someone's heart... special moments, tragic loss, oh but the cohesiveness bringing it all together in warmth for the one left in the cold dark moments.
so many conversations woven together with words...capturing moments of life...this feels real. 'nuff said!
my grandparents had a phone like this ... you've depicted it so accurately
I love this, Louise. My grandmother was on a party line for years, and these exact kinds of conversations happened.
Beautiful Louise. I enjoyed the river of stories on the party line... Thank you for sharing it
Such an accurate slice of life. And the way you wrote it made me feel like I was on the line listening in too. Wonderful.
Very nicely done.
Maybe the party line was comparable to text messages now.
i utterly detest wars.
Just how it was! Helpful sense of community, downright gossips, and sometimes the gossip got you.
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