Tell Me A Story

In this season of discontent, I have gone back to enjoying some of the things I have enjoyed in the past. Among them is watching HBO’S True Detective series, Season 3 with Mahershala Ali and Carmen Ejogo. 

During one of the first episodes, Ejobo, who plays a high school English teacher, is reading a William Penn Warren poem to her students, a poem that goes like this:

Tell me a story.

In this century, and moment of mania,

Tell me a story.

Make it a story of great distances and starlight.

The name of the story will be Time,

But you must not pronounce its name.

Tell me a story of deep delight.

While watching, I was mesmerized by Ejobo’s reading, which gave me one more interest to pursue during these days of imposed isolation and physical distancing - poetry.  

Here is one I wrote a while ago. I hope you enjoy it.


I was a stranger

When I walked in

And tried to take over your life.

You held up your hand,

Holding me back,

But I, like a storm,

Would not be deterred.

I pushed.

You pushed back

Until finally you conceded.

“Hello, Friend,” you said.

“Hello Friend,” I sighed.



Now it’s your turn. Tell me a story.

Another Poem

Enigma

Last night,

As sleep escaped me,

I worked the enigma

That is you.

Like a mantra,

I whispered your name

To the heavens

And wished  a wish 

Upon a thousand stars

As I waited for the midnight sky

To melt into the morning dew,

And wondered over
The miracle that is you.

My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE

A Love Story

I wrote this poem once, a long time ago, but I never shared it with anyone - until today.


I look at your face,
Aglow and softly lit

As though from some source

That shines on you and you alone.

I look at your face

As my eyes trace

Every contour, each angle,

Memorizing each

Sweet expression,

Each subtle shift.

I look at your face,

Slightly out of focus

As though seeing it

From behind a tear.

My body trembles,

Suddenly aware

That your fingers have moved

To caress my cheek,

Gently,

Softly,

Finally.

My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE

Chloe and the List Poem

My five-year-old granddaughter, Chloe, came into my room last week for one of her brief, impromptu visits and to see what I was doing.  As it happened, I was channel surfing.  Chloe asked if she could watch Nick Jr, but I wanted to watch Discovery ID.  We compromised by watching Home Alone.    

We sat down together, Chloe beside me, watching the movie until the little boy in the movie, Kevin, slaps himself in the face and screams.  As soon as she saw it, Chloe started laughing.  She laughed so merrily I re-played the scene and then played it again just to hear her laughter.

A few minutes later, however, she grew bored again and ran out of the room to find and hit base with her mother. I continued watching the movie until Kevin used the lines from an old movie to scare away the burglars and the pizza delivery boy. 

It was no wonder then that when Kristina told us in poetry class that our assignment was to write a list poem, I thought of the movie I was watching the night before.  Kristina explained that a list poem is one created from a list, which could be a list of anything – groceries, things to do, or even a list of book titles.  It didn’t matter.  The point was to take the list and create a poem with it.  So, with the movie still fresh in my head, I decided to write a poem using some of the best movie lines ever written and called it -. 

If I Only Had a Brain

Words and Music not
by Toni McCloe

I have always been a sucker for old movies,
great actors, and the lines they speak -
since way back when my sisters took me
to watch Abbott kibitz with Costello.
I cried when Brandon called,
“Shane, Shane, come back.”

Although I was dubious when Brando said

he “coulda been somebody,”

I got Denzel’s

"Explain it to me like I'm a two-year-old." 

And never once doubted that

Gable didn’t give a damn.

I felt the slap when Loretta Castorini told

Nick Cage to snap out of it.  

But nothing prepared me for the shivers I felt when 

Haley Joel said he saw dead people. 

I marveled when Marilyn spoke not a word

as she hung onto the side of that pool,

and how Meg needed only one word to show 

how delighted she was when Harry met Sally. 

But all this thinkin is gittin me plumb tuckered out –

That was a line in a movie once, wasn’t it?

Well, maybe not.

Anyway, that’s all folks,

but I’ll be back – after all

tomorrow is another day

and until then,
may the force be with you.    

My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE