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The Poetry Pals are writing thirteen ways. I'm joining in.
Thirteen Ways Middle Age
moonbeam webs stray at my temples sleep escapes my nights
what doesn’t seem long ago, was…not on my phone yellowed paper files
what’s old music is new again – hey Mom listen to this, Pink Floyd!
I cannot hear of war without heartsickness children shouldn't die
my grandmothers smile at me from mirrors playing peak-a-boo
some plans have been made burial plot purchased with my ancestors
half full not empty by half
without rhyme, poetry has now become my first language
with pen, I hand-write letters on paper just to be old-fashioned
cursive writing is my secret code–especially F, G, Q, and S
god has not changed, yet i see what’s sacred in more and more every day
children now look
after me making sure
mother is safe
it takes longer to scroll to the year of my birth the summer of love
Linda Mitchell -- draft
Don't miss any of the Poetry Friday round-up hosted this week by Incredible Irene Latham at Live Your Poem who is introducing her brand new anthology, The Mistakes That Made Us. Confessions from Twenty Poets, selected by Irene Latham and Charles Waters, illus. by Merce Lopez (Carolrhoda/Lerner Publishing. 10/1/24).
Yes! Poetry is certainly your first language, Linda...and "god has not changed, yet" is quite a fabulous line! Adding it to my notebook. xo
ReplyDeleteMs. Mitchell, I love this!! Moonbeam webs, the secret code of F, G, Q, and S, and taking a long time to scroll to my birth year all resonated with me. Perfection.
ReplyDeleteLinda, I like the way you designed your poem. This line stands out: "poetry has now become/my first language". At first the image led me to believe the poem would speak about a time long ago but that did not make sense. Then, as I read your poem the past popped in as does the present. The last stanza made me laugh/smile because it is a truth on aging.
ReplyDeleteRain is dropping in to Northern VA as Autumn walks lightly.