Ida Glover

95 years old

Grew up in Little Falls, NY

Former librarian

Likes to read, listen to music, do jigsaw & crossword puzzles, play games, and visit art museums

Ida wrote many poems throughout her life, and was kind enough to share some of them with me. We sat down and she walked through each of the poems, sharing a bit of background about each.

“ I haven’t read these myself in so long. Most of my poetry, I guess, would not be called happy poetry… I haven’t written anything, or tried to, in a long time. I don’t know why I stopped. I don’t know, I didn’t let many people read my poems. ”

[Click on a poem title in the boxes below to read each poem, with Ida's thoughts at the bottom in italics]

Tending Field

He nods approval as the loam crumbles

cool in his palm

soon blistered soon calloused

the field has been waiting for this

the seeding time

to turn aside

roots stubble stone

and bare the birthing place

he strokes the mare’s mane

she too has been waiting

shakes down her harness

dusty from winter’s wall

she knows the acres well

the places for the haws* the gees**

the trees where shade will give them rest

they lean into the task

sharp gusts of winddust part his hair

rough up his cheeks

flap free the wrinkles from his shirt

sail full into his leggings

* haw: bear left; ** gee: bear right

This one was published. I was thinking of my grandfather plowing the field, getting it ready for spring planting. That one was published in the Aurorean, which is a poetry publication out of Maine.

By Thy Pythagorean Thigh

By thy Pythagorean thigh

I take such riches as I dare

Pure gold to my prosaic eye

Such as a princess might aspire

Since Paradise resides nearby

Our hearts in rhapsody entwine

This pauper must accustom joy

Come slowly Eden take thy time

Pythagoras (Greek, 6th c. BC); philosopher, mathematician, and religious reformer, rumored to have a golden thigh

Thanks to Emily Dickenson (three words “Come Slowly Eden”)

I was just fascinated by Pythagoras. Can you image? He was rumored to have a golden thigh… this is kind of a sexual poem, yeah. So, this is a happy poem, really. It’s not all sad, is it?

Thoughts by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

(Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington VA)

HERE RESTS IN

HONORED GLORY

AN AMERICAN

SOLDIER

KNOWN BUT TO GOD

In silence they so search my graven form

that were I not their stares might verify;

his name, my chiseled message does inform

that only God can now identify;

as others did, he played the game of life

and glory-seeking never was his path;

but as a soldier in the midst of strife

he found the only game he played was death;

as seekers do they come and stay to pray

in huddled praise like an eternal flame;

their faces differ as the night the day

but he and I forever stay the same;

alas, our being reason to lament

that man makes war and then a monument.

Note: line 2 “verify” means “conjure me up”

Note: Three soldiers are buried here, from the Korean War, WWI, and WWII. A Vietnam Solider was removed when his DNA was established. Cracks occurred over time and were patched repeatedly. In 2009 the Army Corp of Engineers announced they would continue to repair and not replace as it is a national treasure.

This one is about the armed forces and about the stone itself. I guess it’s just about how I feel and how a lot of people feel about war, and about how sometimes maybe war is necessary but only to preserve freedom.

Not Seeing You Go

You turn coldly

My breath sucks in razors that splinter

the words I must say

I spit out shavings of gibberish

The cruel space between us

stretches snaps

slaps back against my face

blinds my eye

With no eye I run to nowhere

where I thought you were

My blood chases your absence

it flies at the trees

is caught by startled twigs

drains

into ditches

I cannot see you go today

for you have put out my eye

it had a long history

of seeing you come

and go

I try to breathe but cannot

the air is sparse and dry

with hints of

hemlock

This one obviously is about a relationship. It’s just about a relationship that has gone disastrous, kind of.

Thru Trellised Gate

Thru trellised gate my garden lonely waits

soft winds prepare a place to spread my cape

secluded paths have beckoned me

the coral bells the willow tree

a fragrance of hesperis

with visions of the longed-for guest

what poppy-dreams have here been made

what fervent words will here be said

But now where satin grasses flow

come whispers of a dream decayed

a blighted tryst aborted bloom

with sacred promises unsaid

now fallow lies this garden bed

where daisies once foretold –

no place to lay my cape or glove

no secret dreams revealed –

thru trellised gate my garden lonely waits

This is about where I lived, it’s about the garden in my backyard. This is over in Cambridge, New York, it’s sort of about when you’re waiting for somebody to come and they never show up.

Losings

Had we but

dived into the wreck

what would have been

could have been

stunned by those dark eyes

here, here, take me

lips to linger

passion to peace

but my heart floundered

split open by pain

broken for what

should have been

Thanks to Adrienne Rich for 4 words “Diving Into The Wreck”

(Diving into the Wreck is the title of Adrienne Rich’s book of poetry published in 1973)

It’s very obvious I guess, what this one, “Losings”, is about. “Diving Into The Wreck” by Adrienne Rich, I used her words. It’s just about a love that didn’t have a fruition, yeah. Unfortunate things that happen to people.

3rd and Elm

Now gone familiar trodden way

pared smooth by progress’ yellow blade

once corners square now honed for speed

accommodate the moving herd

There houses nestled, brown, then blue

a curtain pushed aside, a view

what stories on those benches told

of life within, without, withheld

They enter exit up and down

are going to or coming from

obliquely carried thru a space

not long ago a human place

I don’t know what caused me to write this one, except this looks like progress but is taking the place of something that is near and dear to us. So, whether it’s really progress or not, that’s the question. 3rd and Elm is no special place, but if it were to be any place it would probably be someplace in Michigan because that’s where I lived at the time. No specific one, the address didn’t really exist.

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