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Candy.
Racks of it
within his grasp.
No!
But, Mom?
She moves ahead
emptying her cart.
Gum.
Hey, I
said no!
He turns to see
An older face.
She smiles.
Remembering.
© by Robert Manchester.
Used with the author's permission.
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Robert Manchester (1943 - 2022) was born and raised in New Hampshire, surrounded by leafy trees, stone walls, and memories of Robert Frost, Jane Kenyon, Donald Hall, and Richard Eberhardt. He wrote and published poems for 50+ years, admitting that he much preferred writing to submitting, although his work appeared in print frequently. Robert especially enjoyed writing "edgy" poems, he said, about "the underbelly of life--the junk cars, tumbledown trailers, goat pens in the front yard, and the like." In addition to being a poet, he was a lifelong gardener and devoted volunteer at many charitable, educational, and public organizations.
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codder@earthlink.net:
Robert, my cousin, is special......I love this poem especially....Thank you.
Posted 12/15/2015 01:05 AM
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cbaustin:
I love the underbelly of poetry!
Nice,sweet,simple poem-kudos
Posted 01/25/2011 10:55 AM
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Arlon:
Robert's a friend, whose interest in poetry I had only learned of in the last few years. This poem is sweet and his "underbelly" pieces tap into a similar, though more visceral, emotional place. Maybe we'll get to measure these in a chap book?
Posted 01/25/2011 05:51 AM
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Katrina:
I love this, Robert! If you write haiku, you might like to try tanka. I'm experimenting. :)
Posted 01/25/2011 04:34 AM
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