Hello Jack

Accidental Poet



 

Hello Jack

You don’t know me

But I know you grew up

In Lowell, Massachusetts

That’s the same city

My birthmother grew up in too

The city made a memorial park

In honor of you, Jack Kerouac

My mother lived next to it

Just before she died

In The Massachusetts Mills Apartments

And she’s buried not far

From where you’re buried

Not long after I found her grave site

I found where she lived

And I found the park

They made for you

With several granite monuments

Engraved with various excerpts

From your writings

Around that time, I myself

Began to write poetry

Mostly to bleed out my emotions

Of not finding my mother before she died

So, I sort of feel a connection to you

And respect you as a writer

I wish I could have known my mother

I have to wonder if you ever knew her

She was about four years younger than you

Though I didn’t find her soon enough

To tell her that I miss her and love her

I feel her presence in my poetry

And who knows, maybe even you

Nice talking to you Jack

 

~ Accidental Poet ~

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Comments5

  • DestinysPerspectives

    This letter is beautifully written! I am sorry that you never found your mom while she was living.

    • Accidental Poet

      Thanks Destiny, I believe she now knows that I've found her and she's with me in spirit. Thank you for reading and your comforting words. 😉

      • DestinysPerspectives

        Anytime you ever need to talk about anything my inbox is always open.

        • 1 more comment

      • JudyStella

        I am sorry you couldn’t meet your mother early enough 😔but I am sure her soul lives through your poetry ❤️

        • Accidental Poet

          Many times I think she's got a hand in it somehow. Thanks Judy. 😁

        • orchidee

          A sensitive write AP.

        • Goldfinch60

          Such emotive words AP, I am sure that your mother is with you now.

          Andy

          • Accidental Poet

            So am I Andy. Thanks for reading and your comment. 😉

          • Neville



            call me an old softie if you like but there is something about your poem today that is very special indeed .. and I know it wont make any great difference my friend but I fully intend to raise my glass of blue thunderbird to your birthmother & to the old fella Mr. J Kerouac who's adventures and writing I also hold a great fondness for ........... Neville

            • Accidental Poet

              Thank you N for reading and commenting. And you raising a glass for my birthmother and Jack Kerouac by no means makes you an old softie. Actually, I've no idea what blue thunderbird refers to. But I'm guessing a beverage of some sort. I'm honored that you would toast to my mother and Jack together. 😁



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