Wake of the Desert Belle
By Rod Drought
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About this ebook
What an undeniable pleasure it is to travel in the footsteps of this wonderful poet.
In sharing his sense of place we also share his passion and love amid relentless optimism.
Crafted with such dignity this work is born of an intuitive insight that brings it home.
Walking the walk of human endeavour, always sharing, always touching our hearts. Never faulting in displaying a capacity to invoke empathy.
Rich in emotion, wrapped around the human spirit and all laid bare in the Wake of the Desert Belle.
It is a journey you will never tire of travelling.
Alan Halford
Poet and Writer
Dublin, Ireland
Rod Drought
Rod Drought spent the first 38 years of life in Westchester County, New York before moving to the warmer climbs of Arizona. He has been published in several literary journals over the years as well local newspapers and magazines. He has produced, written, directed 23 amateur films mostly with friends and relatives. He is also a member of The Lower Crust orchestra a rock/blues band. This is his first collection of poetry.
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Wake of the Desert Belle - Rod Drought
About the Author
INTRODUCTION
There was a time last year when I considered moving from Arizona. My exodus from the desert was not to be yet many of the poems herein contain the theme of leaving. However my journeys of fatherhood did lead me to being a grandfather. The year began with a full house; daughter, grandson, two dogs with visits from my ex to help out. By July the house was disturbingly quiet.
I had traveled from a full nest to an empty nest in the blink of an eye.
We are always sailing to other horizons. Sometimes we sail to uncharted territory. Sometimes we revisit familiar ports. Helping care for my grandson brought back memories of my daughters’ first days on Earth. If you live long enough things do come around again.
I hope these poems bring you in touch with your departures and arrivals.
Enjoy the ride. It is all we have.
I want to thank Debora Lewis for formatting this book and getting it ready for the world to see.
Special thanks to Alan Halford for the fine write up on the back cover. He is a brilliant poet from Ireland whose book The Memory Bone is a pure joy to read.
LIFE OF AN ORGANIC TOMATO
LIFE OF AN ORGANIC TOMATO
Green, tiny
Hard as a nut on the backyard vine
Ordinary, blemished days caused it to expand
Like a heated bubble from a glassblower’s tube
Bloating in shape and color
Until it was time to twist free
Untamed and heavier than its perfect generic cousins
Lopsided and ribbed, misshapen scar brown and jagged
A pimple shaped like a devil’s horn jutted from the top
Small indentations like the folds of a fat belly creased its side
More days maturing on my countertop
It gained density
Inflating with muscle, meat, juice
Until it reached the edge of decline
I carved it that night
It stubbornly held together
Juice oozed from the velvet meat
Warm and thick like reheated stew
I ate alone
Dipped it in olive oil and oregano
Noting its imperfection sweeter,
Wild, random growth richer,
Than a faultless life
Raised in a tethered world
For Mathew Parker
Back to Contents
THE GARDENER
Children are like paper,
he said
Tending the rich man’s flowers
"They are born blank
Our words stick to them,
Make them who they are"
I agreed
His gave his children two languages
I gave mine just one
His sweat and toil
Formed the ink in his words
Imbedding into the fiber
Of what they will be
These pages milled
From their parents anchored
By the roots of their ancestors
Measured like rings of a tree,
Their lineage a progression
Of time and intimacy
Blood lines written
Absorbed in their pores
This man who
Crossed a border,
Hurdled a barrier
To fill his pages
With words of promise
This man a gardener, a writer
Crafting words soulful and true
Nourishing tender saplings
That stretch for light
New growth in the vast,
Varied forest of America
Back to Contents
A PARK BENCH
There is a bench
With a bronze plate etched
A man’s name, his life and death
A sweet someone’s remembrance
Nothing more
Nothing less
There is a woman who walks
The park’s winding path at sunset
To quiet her wandering heart
In her private quest
Nothing more
Nothing less
From a shrub she plucks a rose
Tucks behind the nameplate
Of the man she never met
His life unknown, not unlike her own
Nothing more,
Nothing less
It will touch the hearts
Of those who come
To rest upon this bench
To see a rose and plate entwined
To wonder who these hearts that bind
In life and in death
Nothing more
Nothing less
Those that rest
Seek peace to grasp
Before it