Items related to Southern Bred: Poems

Southern Bred: Poems - Hardcover

Ghigna, Charles

  • 3.96 out of 5 stars
    27 ratings by Goodreads
 
9781771684187: Southern Bred: Poems

Synopsis

Discover the captivating allure of the Deep South through the haunting and powerful verses of one of today's most accomplished poets.

Southern Bred is a haunting, powerful collection of gothic poems that captivate and transport the reader into the heart and soul of the Deep South. Each poem offers a glimpse into its mystery and enchantment, drawing you in with a blend of beauty and darkness. In the style of a memoir in verse, it showcases Ghigna's southern soul and his tender, yet piercing language, and affirms his place as one of the finest poets of our time.

"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.

About the Author

Charles Ghigna lives in a tree house in the middle of Alabama. He is the author of over 100 books and has written for The New Yorker, Harper’s, Rolling Stone and The Wall Street Journal. Poet-in-residence at the Alabama School of Fine Arts, instructor of creative writing at Samford University, and nationally syndicated feature writer for Tribune Media Services, Ghigna has read his poems at the Library of Congress, John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, American Library in Paris, and the International Schools of South America.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Southern Bred
In the backyard
of my father's house
a hen's warm neck
once filled my pale fist.

Her place on the stump
still wears my shadow
like a stain.

1952
I was six
when they stuck me
inside the scrapbook
with a puppy in my lap.

Reopening it all now,
my hand touches
the truth of my father
who made me sit still
in that soft moment
when everything became
so neatly black and white.

Jimmy’s Dad
Jimmy’s dad looked like an empty mailbox on a cloudy day.
He wore gray overalls and carried a red bandana
in his hip pocket that hung straight down like a windless flag.
He wore stiff black shoes and carried a metal lunch pail.
“James” sat over his shirt pocket announcing his name to the world.
Little strands of black thread unraveled from it like a spider.

On the way home from school we’d see him sitting
beside the pumps on an empty RC crate
cleaning his fingernails with a pocket knife
or over in the bay working under a car
with only his legs sticking out.

One day a Buick slipped off its jack and crushed him.
That’s when Jimmy stopped coming to school.

Paper Planes
After Jimmy’s dad died
he invited me over
to spend the night
at his house.

On the wall
over his bed
hung a calendar
with a page for every day.

That night
we made paper planes
from the old day pages
of the calendar

just like Jimmy’s dad
had taught him
before he went away
to live upon the dresser

in his little
silver frame house
whose shiny glass
window

became a target
for paper planes
that flew across the room
on folded yesterdays.

"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.