Your Ideas en Poem: For My Father <p><strong>FOR MY FATHER</strong></p><p>My father said everything</p><p>when he whistled his way home</p><p>in the dust of a square evening,</p><p>that held the trail of a shooting star&nbsp;</p><p>in the violet sky.</p><p>A Peter Pan in work boots,&nbsp;</p><p>his cap set cocked-back,</p><p>his one-seeing eye tangoing&nbsp;</p><p>to the tune of “It’s Only Make Believe, I Love You”</p><p>above the crunch of gravel underfoot.</p><p>He should have moved to the Crazy Mountains</p><p>worn a bowler</p><p>learned to play the viola&nbsp;</p><p>Instead, he drew the bow of a welder</p> Wed, 23 Apr 2014 19:05:27 +0000 Laurie James 17469 at Poem: For My Father A Rebuilt Palace, the Mall & the Museum <p>We have hit a streak of &nbsp;perfect spring weather which looks like it will last until we depart for Lithuania. We took advantage of summer weather to head 20 minutes out of the city to the summer residence of the Tsars, Catherine's Palace. One could yawn at this point from over exposure to gilt encrusted, lapis and onyx inlaid and pilastered rooms. Faberge and Sevres adorned furnishings appear mundanely in room after room and we have only visited three of the dozens of palaces. It would have been a shame to miss this one, however. Wed, 23 Apr 2014 18:50:28 +0000 Helen Ward Obermeyer 17463 at A Rebuilt Palace, the Mall & the Museum A Perfect Easter Afternoon <p>It is Easter morning and the Nikolsky Cathedral is full. Russian orthodox services are delivered to a standing crowd. Families mill about listening to prayer, seeking inspiration from their favored saints represented in icons hung through out this gorgeous blue jewel of a church. They have picnic baskets full of treats which are being blessed with holy water by one of the officiants. The golden onion shaped domes of the church, sky blue facade against the perfect blue sky, budding trees couldn't embody resurrection more clearly, The crowd is joyful and we feel entirely welcomed.&nbsp;</p> Tue, 22 Apr 2014 18:05:09 +0000 Helen Ward Obermeyer 17397 at A Perfect Easter Afternoon Memories and New Visions <p>Wow! A lot has changed since my last visit to St P in 1977 when I came with my High School teacher Dr Egan and 10 other classmates from our Russian History Class. Back then the monochromatic palate of the identical black Volga cars everyone drove,&nbsp; the consistent shades of grey and black coats and hats, the low grey January clouds and pallor of everyone's skin made the polychrome onion domes and pastel palaces of the Romanov's shocking in their brilliance. Today the billboards, variety and magnitude of cars and fashion in every shape and size present a very different image. Mon, 21 Apr 2014 16:06:37 +0000 Helen Ward Obermeyer 17331 at Memories and New Visions Poem: Mnemosyne Forgets <p>The long bowed wood left marks on the hardwood floor,</p><p>so we tried to keep the rocker on a rug.</p><p>It didn't work and every house would have these streaks</p><p>where our rocking had stripped wax off.</p><p></p><p>Memory is a hesitant thing,</p><p>a thing best left on shelves for rainy days.</p><p>What troubles me is remembering,</p><p>remembering August ninth-</p><p>nineteen ninety five.</p><p>A boundary day, a before and after day.</p><p></p><p>He wasn't just a guitar player missing the upper bird digits of his wing-ed finger.</p> Wed, 05 Mar 2014 16:36:46 +0000 Don McIver 15097 at Poem: Mnemosyne Forgets