The Friday Poem: Old Images

Old Images by Joel Fallon

How cumbersome the camera was,

the tripod too and box of plates.

The fuss to get the light just so,

to make the whole thing straight and true

was almost more than they could stand.

Important too that everyone

be still, not thrash or mill about.

Regardless, trees moved in the wind

and water flowed and smoke

wafted where it would.

But it was worth the fuss because

it froze the women – dark dresses,

with their shoe tips peeking out and

mustached men in unpressed suits,

with vested bellies fobbed and chained.

All so unhurried, simple and

everybody seemed to know that

you and I would study them and

so they wore their Sunday faces.

Strong and plain – sure and beautiful.

--

Now that you’ve read the poem, here is a commentary by Benicia Patch Poetry Maestro Jeff Burkhart:

Today’s poem is by Joel Fallon, Benicia’s first Poet Laureate. The piece is appropriately titled, “Old Images”, and deals with the haunting experience of looking into the faces of people long past. Weathered sepia photos of people, always seeming to be so serious. They never share a carelessly frivolous moment of laughter. They stare into the camera transfixed and committed to being properly represented for all time on this new medium. I always find myself wondering what they are thinking. I wonder what they had just done, or were going to do later the day the picture was taken.

I think these types of pictures remind us that life in days past, although simpler, was no picnic. People lived in houses they built and ate food they grew or killed, off plates they ordered from New York, Chicago or Europe. That china had to last. It was destined to be passed on from one generation to the next. People lived close to the land and life was real.

Until next week,

Jeff Burkhart

As an added bonus, here's an extra poem written by Jeff. Thursday was his birthday, and this is his birthday poem to himself:

A life in Review by Jeff Burkhart

January 24th

Arrives today I fear

Reminding me my age increased

By one more long hard year

The trouble with a birthday

Is that life’s not meant to last

Less are in my future

Than have happened in my past

I’ll reflect and raise a glass

To long lost friends and lovers

Remembering how my life is now

Without my folks and Brother

Maybe I should handle it

Just like my loving wife

She contends she’s 39

And will be all her life

As I look back two things stand out

Inside my realizer

I know I’m getting older

I just hope I’m getting wiser

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