Root Vegetables

And I was gifted with the hardiest of soups
Rich and filling
Brimmed with reminders of stereotypical home

With rich oak floors
Hand cut by a grandfather or old family friend
Worn in by dogs padded paws
And babies first steps
And maybe some last steps too.

And large roaring fireplaces
That's mantles hold antiques
And photographs,

Some so old they are the antiques

And a dining room table
or two.

Passed down from your great aunts 12th cousin
-who actually met Elvis once - if you'll believe it.

And an old attic full of puffy prom dresses

And ruffled tux shirts

White wedding gowns

And memories.

And with every bite you'll be glad senses
Are so good
At pulling the trigger

On memories.

12/29/14
Riley Welch

The Yellow Collection

Part of encouraging myself to write more meant writing whenever I got an idea. I bought a bundle of thin notebooks so I could have one to carry with me. Since August I have been carrying one with a yellow spine, I have labeled it "The Yellow Collection". In December I filled the whole thing and below is the poem to celebrate it's end. Now onto the next notebook!

As this yellow era draws to a close

Another color will so slowly emerge

And the shades themselves

Will paint a mood across the pages

Dancing tip toes extend themselves

Along the edge of crisp pulp

Inking out elegant words

And even more elegant sentences

Stretching themselves out

So they fill the sheet

Then your head

And my mind is in action on a piece of paper

In a way I didn't know existed

Until I filled a whole book with my words

And looked at it like it was a child

That I was in charge of

And felt a little bit proud

That there are so many words

But I still figured out

How to make sense of some.

12/29/2014
Riley Welch

Missed Fires

Really long nights
Set up for grateful days
Feasting on sunlight

Before that sun sets too soon over the ever-unreachable horizon.

He tried to reach it once
Ran after the bolting sun

Tears of goodbye
Streaming down his face

"Don't leave me in this dark.
Don't trap me in the night.
This is a thing I do not deserve.
This is a thing I did not ask for."

But the sun answers to no one.
No man. No woman. No animal.
Sometimes the moon, but only when she is feeling especially generous,
especially kind,
especially willing.

He could tame the sun as much as fingers can scrape a scrap of eggshell from the thick battered bowl
Have you tried?
An eggshell only sticks to itself
Like a magnet
It will run from your soft, sticky fingers.

Much like the egg incident:
Want does not increase success when it comes to the sun.

So he chased her
Through the orange sunset
And into the black of dark

Light pollution did not compare to her fiery roar-

And he wandered
Aimlessly
Lost.

He looked to the moon
Wishing for him to brighten in the same way she had

But he did not tear up the sky.
He did not rip at his eyelids.
The moon did not cast long shadows
short shadows
dancing patterns
piercing sunlight.

He ended in a field
Broad. Dying.

Moonlights weak shadowing
Created a maze on the ground.
A feeble one.

And just when he gave up
And decided, she was gone
Light peaked at a far corner
And the sky lightened.
Barely.

Then great streaming blue - finally.

And the grounds maze felt
Strength once more.

And he cried again
Happy - not tears of goodbye

Unwilling to remember. Dark would come again.

12/28/2014
Riley Welch

Very Small Pebbles

I'm feeling like things are difficult

Like everything I patch

Spills back out.

Like sand from an unpluggable hole

Almost solely to make me get out the needle and thread

And try again. 

As those tiny grains slip

Through my fingers and bounce

Off and on the uneven ground

Pitter-pattering

Mocking of that small hole

That nothing can fix

No matter how thick the needle

Or steady the hand. 

12/28/2014

Riley Welch

Snot

While digging through some things, I found this poem I wrote for my friend Chris. It was written after I had gone to visit him while he had a cold. Once returning to Austin, I fell ill - and the rest rhymes. 

Well you see, I was well and you were not.

And then my face began to rot.

And my throat got, oh, so sore.

School became worse than the usual bore.

And my nose started running,

and I looked anything but stunning.

And you were sick first,

so you must have dispersed

this cold I have now caught.

I can’t even manage a straight thought.

As you can see it’s all your fault.

I’ve lost the game of health by default.

I hope you feel bad.

You’ve made me quite sad.

(And I made that up right on the spot.)

5/25/2011

Riley Welch

Squares

Sparkling Gleaming New Years Lights
Reach out and touch your pale skin
Incased in wonder captivated
Ever smoothing
Out that thin stretched smile
Teeth bared
White and clean
Right and square
Laughs grab at night air
And send out ice cold
Rings into the sky
Stars reaching and ready to embrace
That New Year satisfaction.

12/24/2014
Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

Little Fish

Anonymous

The seas I see are far from me,
Yet the bees that be are near to me.
Far across the iridescent hills,
A lonely song of sorrow chills,
It's origin a mystery
It's story a sad history.
So serene is this scenery seen,
Her cattle captives vision so keen.
Lured to her like a sirens dish,
Oh your song is sweet yet so sad little fish.