Four Poems by Lloyd Hill

Four Poems 

by Lloyd Hill

Clutter and Declutter  

I just moved from my Ocean Beach home  

of 20 years, to a studio in Carmel Valley  

and had to get rid of half of my belongings.  

Oh, the pain of downsizing.   

This prosy poem was once twice as long  

and I loved it like I loved all my old possessions 

but my old home had become a blocked prison-- 

Now I can invite friends into my new space  

as I invite you into my opened accessible poem.  

It is said that all writing is rewriting.  

This is a lot of what we do in writing workshops. 

Write a first draft. Read it to fellow students  

and take their critique. Revise and revise again.  

The Mr. Coffee, Quaker Oats, the Heart Mug  

are things in our lives and poems. So are thousands 

of books, a dozen sportscoats, three thigh masters,  

and outdated Florsheim’s-- you declutter  

writing as you declutter your life.  

Retirement Home Romance 

The man and woman sit poolside  

talking movies and books, touching  

fingers and forearms, and their hearts swell 

as the heat rises on this summer day.  

He’s been watching Robert Redford  

movies on Netflix, and she’s been  

reading Danielle Steele and thinking  

Meryl Streep’s heroine in Out of Africa.  

Maybe tonight in the dark backrow  

of the intimate onsite movie theater,  

they’ll share popcorn and he’ll  

put his arm around her shoulders  

and they’ll hold hands and smile.  

Could be only the old man can see  

the vibrant girl in the old woman,  

and only the old woman can see 

the playful youth in the old man, 

and, the voltage that turns them on  

is that they can return to their own rooms  

when desired, free to choose now or never,  

but possibilities exist and maybe that’s  

all they need-- 

 Holiday Ball in Paradise  

Valet parking to gourmet deserts, it’s a classy affair.  

As the sun sets over the spacious lighted courtyard,  

my girlfriend and I take petite plates of filet mignon  

and goblets of spiked cider to a red and white poinsettias   

decorated table by the dancefloor. The band plays  

Jingle Bell Rock and we take a few spins, smiling  

and saying hello to the crowd of residents, guests,  

and staff. It’s a colorfully costumed crew, gowns  

to clowns; laughing, chatting, drinking, and eating. 

Later we visit different rooms in the main building  

that have food and drink stations, taking our fill-- 

Photographs are taken for posterity and caricatures  

are drawn and colored to show how silly we look,  

and oh, the sweet pastries. Alas, this is a Cinderella  

tale that ends suddenly at seven. Bedtime for many; 

but my girl and I catch It’s a Wonderful Life 

in the movie theater, testing how much late fun  

old partiers can have before calling 9-1-1. 

The Tale of the Big Storm that Hit Paradise 

That week the big storm engulfed the retirement home, the CTO told residents to prepare for evacuation as the 200-room building might slip into the valley below. Then, as we gathered toothbrushes and blankets the CEO reversed the order and said because our home was nearly new and had backup-power we were to accept a hundred homeless people who had washed up by the freeway and we would all fortify together. It was like a week of Sundays. While the storm pounded outside, inside we got together, and sung karaoke, sang gospels and old tunes like  This land is your land, this land is my land, and those songs opened our bodies and melded us together and when the skies finally cleared and the homeless wandered off and we got back to normal, we wondered what had happened but vowed to keep it alive in our ageing brains.