Carole Eddington

Carole Eddington was born in Chicago to two musicians. She’s been writing poetry, stories, and non-fiction since childhood. She now lives in a suburb of Chicago with her husband, 24-year-old daughter, and 19-year-old son, who each excel in more than one art form. Her major interests are home schooling, revitalizing artists, restoring magic to the world, and discovering the truths of existence.

Carole has written several file drawers full of poetry and has read her poems at various events throughout the years. She regrets that she has suffered from "Emily Dickinson Syndrome" in regard to getting herself published. However, sanity has finally won out! She is currently compiling her first book of poetry, which is a collaboration with her sister, Wendy Jordan, an outstanding photographer.

Contact Carole at caroleeddington@ameritech.net

She is currently working on several projects for publication.

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I saw you across the water
too far to reach
so I idled at the shore

but you were there to see
and the sand felt good --
the salty spray made my day

I floated some poems across
you sailed your songs to me
and we repossessed the sea

the day

wow what a weird day wow
it was seven then eleven
it was breakfast cheering for cheerios I was a child and
everything was sun and shimmer
I had tanned legs, scared of bees
watching it ALL, my omnicient gaze boring into the
poor defenseless scene around me
oh to be a beach, simple as expanse of sand and
infinite glasswater soulquench
then I met some boys

oh god, the desire for desired the
desire to be desired
the tight bellbottoms
the black eyeliner
hoping my sweetness was sexy or hard love could
be the ultimate depth of time spent
and way to own time

oh god, if we could have gotten A's for the best cause-and-effect
in makeout, I learned so well and I remember
each pair of lips, the welcoming/welcome tongues
I remember agile young bods, soft skin, soft hair brushing my face
bright eyes flicking with appetite
tight black levis bulging with SOMETHING that school could mean
(I could go on but)

ridiculously in there I wrote a poem
it said who I was and why and it became a world
which I carried off to college and the countercultural education my parents
did not intend to pay for

there I found my man, and after drugs failed to save us
we found the Amazing Breakthrough and broke the wicked bubble
so there was finally hope
and I kept my poem in my back pocket
as I fought the greatest enemy of the ages

and I found me more and more
as I found old friends/old mates/soulmates
as I tried to wife and mother and citizen and good neighbor
through the struggle with artist/teacher/worldly lover/should I get a job/
what's wrong with me/we're so different/I'm good/I'm fucked/
I'm loved/I'm lost/I'm a fairygoddess/I'm not worthy but I'm

magic
I found I had abilities beyond but they didn't pay the mortgage
or clean the house or mean shit to my relatives
so I covertly enhanced lives for a couple decades
and when asked what I did in life I self-consciously reached for my
back pocket as they changed the subject

it's been a fucking weird day sitting on a stool
of all-consuming loves/fascinations/fantasies/contentments
lunching on sprouts and almond butter garnished with too heaping
failures to get to England or LA/finish anything/give fame to my name/conquer the
delight that distracts/get good at life or just be the good wife

but not long ago I spread my poem out, a picnic blanket,
a recreational blueprint to recreate my day
for fun, for a romp, an escape from the nonsensical sensible and for once
I decided to stay there, I decided it would be OK and that
set it all
right

so I find myself this afternoon somehow
apart somehow above and it's quiet suddenly

and my poem is BIG and I feel and breathe and have dignity
but more important is the promise of the GRAND DINNER
I'm excitedly preparing, it's serene/it's green/
it's truth and it's alive and
what's below (that I was wrestling with all day)
is fading little ash-insects scurrying away

what a day what a day as the shadows lengthen
the viewpoint elongates
my conductor arms tingle
I can have the world for dinner tonight

stained glass windows

Sally sits in church in Pennsylvania
blue cotton dress draped light as a blessing
far-away thoughts of sunflowers
in a nearby field

he came from New Jersey
to visit his uncle last summer
and she met him one day in town
when they both were
partaking of ice cream
in a parlor with stained glass windows

she whistled a tune that was
all too familiar
he pledged himself to her
with words from the spectrum of colors
that bloom in the summer
and soften in shade

they were searching for stained glass windows
for the house they would build
for their children

he went away
with a red satin lady
from New Orleans
and the colors turned to gray

so Sally sits
searching in church
for flowers and answers
in streams of tinted sunlight
in a quiet quake of thought

then it all stops
she’s alone with herself
the simple solution surfaces

find the blessed stained glass windows
he’ll be there
there will be color
put the flowers in a room
and make the home
he shares with you

Minister

A canopy upon the trees
And two who walked below,
A summer wind, the rush of life,
A bird's cry and echo.
Around, the life was rich and green,
The sun, on it's way down.
A flute, a melody was played,
A pure but haunting sound.

They came to me, she dropped her veil,
He humbly peered at me.
I pulled them close, I loved them so.
I blessed them silently.
I married them with stunning words,
With softness, breath, and spell,
Created and sent on their way
To love each other well.

'Twas I who owned their wedded life
And put the magic on.
I did it for a million years.
I worked with spell and song.
The power in these hands of mine
Lies tingling restlessly.
I am a minister of life.
I give thy life to thee.