My grandfather never knew
What a treasure he left
For me to find—I was born free
Of the invisible reins
And the perhaps unseen,
Though keenly felt, whip or spur
That forced so many girls
To lie in meadows of bitter grass
Along a road they did not choose
I have heard so many sad tales
Of invisible chains and torture
At the hands of the blind
In mind and heart
Tales of so many girls
Who grew perforce
Like mushrooms in the dark
With a taste bland, delicate
Bitter or poisonous
When plucked in the sun
But I have always known
What my grandfather taught
To the brothers of my mother:
Boys must not be allowed
To enjoy leisure at the expense
of a sister’s labor.
Games, thrills and challenges
dancing, melodies upon the air
or under the fingertips,
the pleasures of the written word
are gifts for all, not for boys alone.
We never met, my grandfather and I,
So he could not know of his legacy
Or see the mercy in his gift.
ENDLESSLY
Road with no visible end
Random wandering where
Time of living, time giving
No regrets for any time lost
(untitled)
It’s always hard to
Say farewell
Especially to one who’s
Done so well
A president par excellance
Is our own
Who’s done so much
Far more than this pen
Could tell
THE MAN FROM CROWDED PLACES
Stepping away from his guide,
he was consumed in the emptiness:
miles of sand and rock
expecting nothing from him,
respecting not his so correct form.
His gaze buried itself
in the desert’s emptiness
where there was no one
with whom to exchange
required forms of etiquette,
stratagems of business politic,
ripostes in emotional tangles.
He stood in the desert,
the man from crowded places.
He stood alone
in the desert
and was afraid.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“(untitled)” is a piece intended for an outgoing president of the chapter of California Federation of Chapparel Poets to which Margaret belonged. It is not known if she completed her tribute and presented it, as this unfinished bit is all that remains.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry by Robert Roxby
“ENDLESSLY” was written near the end of the poet’s life and seems to be his optimistic view of his life. The fragment was found in his poet’s journal.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—works by Kathleen Roxby
“THE MAN FROM CROWDED SPACES” is included this week as we face the as yet empty year. The poet was inspired by a film in which the scene described occurs. It so moved her, she felt she had to captured it in a poem, this poem.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR DECEMBER 2024
CHRISTMAS JOYS
Christmas is a time of joyous cheer
A time of wonderment in all our peers
The joy of giving loving gifts
Giving a lift to those near and dear—
If only a hug for Grandma here
Kisses to all of the ladies and one
To keep you all from being undone
Most precious of all sharing love
With all those whom I do love
Kisses for the ladies all and one
To help keep everything undone
A kiss for my own dear wife
One more to make you feel alive
Of all the gifts we give away
None is more precious than love
If I can count all those I love
There would be you and just you.
THE WHOLE WORLD NEEDS CHRISTMAS
Someday
Oh, someday
On that wonderful
Dreamed-of someday
The children of the world
Who now
Hunger and cry against the cold
Will know the feasting board
The warm hearth’s glow
The whole world needs Christmas
MY GRANDFATHER’S LEGACY
My grandfather never knew
What a treasure he left
For me to find—I was born free
Of the invisible reins
And the perhaps unseen,
Though keenly felt, whip or spur
That forced so many girls
To lie in meadows of bitter grass
Along a road they did not choose
I have heard so many sad tales
Of invisible chains and torture
At the hands of the blind
In mind and heart
Tales of so many girls
Who grew perforce
Like mushrooms in the dark
With a taste bland, delicate
Bitter or poisonous
When plucked in the sun
But I have always known
What my grandfather taught
To the brothers of my mother:
Boys must not be allowed
To enjoy leisure at the expense
of a sister’s labor.
Games, thrills and challenges
dancing, melodies upon the air
or under the fingertips,
the pleasures of the written word
are gifts for all, not for boys alone.
We never met, my grandfather and I,
So he could not know of his legacy
Or see the mercy in his gift.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“THE WHOLE WORLD NEEDS CHRISTMAS” was found among the poet’s papers. Late in her life, she began to craft her own Christmas cards, and this piece was likely intended for that purpose. Christmas: the decorations, the food, the visits with friends and family was something she looked forward to every year, beginning preparations in November. Her daughter remembers being charged with cracking nuts for Christmas goodies while dreaming of her own November birthday and upcoming Thanksgiving.
REFRACTIONS—the poetry by Robert Roxby
“CHRISTMAS JOYS.” Like his wife, the poet welcomed Christmas every year. The poem was found in his poet’s journal.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—works by Kathleen Roxby
“MY GRANDFATHER’S LEGACY” is included this week for December 23, National Roots Day. Though the author never met her grandfathers, either one, both of them left such an impact that it carried forward to the next generation. The specific grandfather described in this poem was her maternal grandfather.