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Poetics Presents

Christine Henderson

Christine has two children and two grandchildren. She lives in the country with four cats and two dogs, many birds and other living things. Has loved writing since her teens, but just since her divorce six years ago, she has been really stretching her wings. Christine loves poetry first, but is dabbling in short stories and will maybe attempt a full-length book. She is Past Treasurer, Past Secretary, and currently Vice-President of her local writing group, and contributes to the Poetics column at T-Zero. Christine offers two poems Immortality and Houstory, this issue.

Writers' Village members look forward to reading more of Christine's work.

Houstory The creaks and the groans in the stately old homes         some folks say are the sound         of the settle and shift, the lower and lift         of the house as it moves with the ground. But the houses aren’t just filled with mildew and dust,         there are lives that were changed while within. There are loves won and lost, tales of time's sure, slow cost         to the souls, minds, and bodies we're in. Attics are great! For lying in state         is the true, unglossed history of man. There children can play on a dark, rainy day         and discover the treasures at hand. They will find books and clothes and things to disclose         tales of fortunes once lost and then found. Legends of knights; tales of ancestor's plights; The stories will keep them spellbound! The kitchen's sweet smells- all the stories they tell         of youth and the secrets they shared.         Here they gossiped at night in the pure, pre-dawn light         while the bread for the day was prepared. Porches were there for the public to share. They said "Come, see what I've done!" The parlors - they, too, were beckoning you         to enter and join in the fun. But the rooms with the tales of how life wins or fails         are the bedrooms, the heart of the home. There's where the truth, the follies of youth         and wisdom of ages is known. The joy of life's birth, all the laughter and mirth-         the glory of living acclaimed. And windows conceal what hearts can't reveal         of the tragedies, sorrows, and pain. Yes, the creaks and the groans in the old, empty homes         are not only the sign of their age. They're the whispers and sighs, the truths and the lies         of the lives time has yet to assuage.   Copyright © 2000 Christine Henderson

Immortality "Clara's Baby" Written with a flourish on the back of the ancient photograph in Grandmother's album Three volumes Dozens of faces Stern, stiff gentlemen Wistful ladies Children balanced in skillfully carved chairs Angelic Anonymous "Clara's Baby" The only clue to generations stored for remembrance. Who was Clara? Who am I?   Copyright © 2000 Christine Henderson