Essays Fiction and Poetry by Andrea LeDew
For Random Learning Comes
Essays Fiction and Poetry by Andrea LeDew
This poem is set at my father’s cabin and reminds us, that places are not the same, without the people we expect to see there. A toast to all those we miss this winter! Thanks for coming by to read. In dreams, I slowly seek to climb The staircase of my father’s house, The knotted …
This poem is a love song to my sister. She and my brother and I recently went to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, along Lake Superior, for a scattering of my parent’s ashes. When people live far away, it’s easy to slide into a habit of benign neglect. To fail to call. To fail …
This poem came in a moment of discouragement, when I was imagining ,how much more I might have done with my many years, had I only set my mind to it. And wondering, whether I might have worked harder or faster, had I been more acutely aware of my own mortality. Such topics lend themselves …
Fair warning: This poem takes a turn for the worse, toward the end. It’s not often, that I can use the two keywords “morning” and “mourning” in the same piece. I’m sure many of you are as fond of early morning, as I am. At least, on those rare occasions, that I get a good …
This poem came to me as I considered, how long it had been since my parents died. And how the pain of it all still stings. I could not help but think of Queen Victoria, who famously wore mourning clothes for her husband Albert, to her dying day. Even though Albert died when she …
This poem came from sitting around too much, binge-watching too much, finding myself listless and devoid of energy. A plight, which I imagine many people find themselves in, as they try to creep forward through the slothful slog, that is this pandemic. When we realize suddenly, how very little we are accomplishing, the only …
This poem came to me while drinking coffee from a French Press, since out coffee carafe on the regular coffeemaker is tragically broken. It seemed that I could not get to the coffee soon enough, what with life’s many distractions, to sip it, before it turned cold. Like most common wisdom, the concept of …
I wrote this poem while watching on TV the memorial service at the Capitol where Brian Sicknick lay in state. He was apparently one of the few civilians ever to be afforded that honor. Brian Sicknick was a Capitol Policeman, charged with guarding the Capitol building, and was injured when he was attacked by …
This poem takes an historical approach, describing how different periods of time have collected and then discarded different things. Thanks for coming by to read! Each age has its own. Open sewers running free. Smoke-choked skies and shipwrecked seas. Each age has its own. Letters, piled up to the sky. …
I wrote this poem recently, as it became increasingly clear, that all our fervent hopes and prayers for the recovery of my poor niece would not result, in her blessing us with her presence once again. Sorry for the note of sadness and even despair. Grief will do that to you. To all of …
When I wrote this poem, I was contemplating how strange this Christmas season seems. How different, from all the previous Christmases. I cannot bring myself to buy a Christmas tree, to bake cookies, to play carols. I hesitate to celebrate, as if to do so might invite disaster. This pandemic came thick upon the …
This poem was written in 2004. As many of you already know, Election Day in the US is held on a Tuesday. Roughly half the people, by the time they wake up on Wednesday, are disappointed at the result. In 2004, I was one of those. The election followed a series of deaths …
The roof collapsed the day you left; The raging waters rose; The earth, it opened underfoot; A wildfire nipped my toes. My conscience slipped. My compass points Reversed and spun around. The continents commenced to drift: They laid you in the ground. I worshipped dirt beneath your feet (Though now above your …
First Father’s Day without you, First father of my fold. The shepherd of my fiefdom, My guide as I grew old. I owe you my allegiance. I owe my every breath. I’ll owe you all my life-long, In penury till death. I miss you in my sinews And in my very bones, …
{I wrote this poem after visiting the compost pile and adding several handfuls of shredded documents, to top off the orange rinds, coffee grounds and bits of brown lettuce. Life is teeming, in the moist soil-in-the-making beneath. Like many of you, I have been trying to clean house during these long, dull days of …
I wonder why they leave me. I wonder why they go. I wonder why I wonder why: I’ll never, ever know. I wonder why they feed me And why they love me so: It’s like they’re watching over me, So briefly, ere they go. They’ve left me in my mourning mist, …
I sit in the dark with my coffee. I sit here and wait for the light. I increasingly need to wake early, The one need my body can’t fight. The coffee, forever, is last grounds. I pile them on yesterday’s heap. Our compost is black with its dark dust And yellow, most …
{I have noticed recently in our area, that a lot of the old Southern pines are dying. It’s not clear why there seem to be more than usual, disease or lightning or old age? Or maybe I’m just now more keenly aware of the signs of death around me. I hope you will not …
I originally posted this poem shortly after my mother’s death in 2018. Now, in light of last night’s debate, and the claims that we are “turning a corner,” even as we peak, at the highest level of daily COVID-19 cases ever, it seems there are those out there who need reminding, of what it …
