Saturday, March 1, 2014

Making coffee..ironing sheets..

Looking out the window,
beginnings of another spring,
thoughts of previous gardens grown,
funny how the mind takes wing
Then,  loud ringing of the phone
my grandmother - gone
Right away my mother goes back
 to her routine persona,
fills the house with aromas 
of  freshly roasted coffee beans, black toast
She did not let me take her arm,
help her out of the car  that day;
red and yellow rose garlands on the pews
did not take the sting of reality away
Living an active middle age life,
heaven would just have to wait for her, 
she paid her dues
Clearly there is no reason or need 
to take the small soft hands with
 mauve painted nails -
that tucked me in at night, 
felt foreheads for fever


Too soon came the day,
 while looking through my sheers
at the demurely tree lined street
the phone beckons, expected, 
though my heart is numb;
trees give birth to hot china pink blossoms 
landing on the ground
Clouds had parted for her last breath to rise
In short order I found myself
in a department store;
soft bamboo fabric against my fingers
 He asked  "May I help you, Mam?"
"  thank you," I said, 
" I'm just looking for new sheets for my bed",
one day after their 50th anniversary


 I'll join that lofty parade one day
where rows of  kindred legacies
march on silver glittered clouds;
And when peace settles all around me,
and if there is a call,
I think she will not at first cry                                                                                                                         Clinically, she will flash a beautiful smile,
then put on her running shoes                                                                                                                             she will go for a long distance run
I will want to take her pain away
 I'll fly like a bird and perch                                                                                                                        somewhere in  Andromeda
And there will be silver cord, 
coated with infinite love, 
for future tears and years
Still connected  for talk and laughter;
 as always we have  done 
 Seeds of the past are reborn;
walls of blooming sunflowers in her yard
This is our gift to each other,
passed down, 
linking us forever
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Invisibility is our suggestion for today - to write anything on the subject 
              over at                    
dVerse Poets Pub



  1. i understand the desire to take the pain away....exp for family....
    can feel the quick movement of time there in the second part
    it flies...i will come back when the pub opens...i have been up all night and
    about wiped out so i am probably missing things...ha

  2. no problem, I was up late as well.. I did make some changes as it was disjointed before and you could have gotten lost ;)

    1. it does flow a bit better this time around...i was not too far off the first time...the last couple lines there really ring kkkaty.....

  3. I like how you tie four generations of women into you poem, Katie! I guess that once we are dead we are not totally invisible because of those who remember us.

  4. I understand this poem to be about the continuation of the parade. We each join this parade at some point. It is not a parade we choose to join, but it is a parade nonetheless -- one that crosses generations, connects people somehow. I think we can hope that our children will not cry. We would like to take their pain away. But I think they will cry, as we did in the past. But eventually they will get through it, as we did, with memories.....and the parade will carry on.

    1. ......the responses of going about ordinary chores is what I observed/noticed, not that they we wouldn't cry; for instance, when Meryl Streep hears about Robert Redford's death in Out of Africa, she is reading a book and doesn't look up and had just inhaled a drag of smoke so she swallows and continues to sit there

  5. I take heart from this poem - as you relate the strong bond between mothers and daughters that links them even after death. I can see my daughter going for a long distance run, too, after my death. This poem resonates with me. So well done.

  6. ...I think we had those reactions because we were in shock, not that we didn't cry or they won't me it's interesting in each case what we do as a first involves ordinary things your daughter runs, too ;)

  7. Grief is such a personal thing and handle differently by individuals. It is a very complicated procedure. I can relate to buying the sheets . The shock hits a lot laterl It is too much to take in. Your love for your daughter shines like a beacon is this one. Lovely.

  8. I felt the years rolling by, you as child before, and now as an adult, who reflects on that parade ~ I like this specially:

    And there will be silver cord,
    coated with infinite love,
    for future tears and years

    The fates of women are weaved beautifully ~

  9. Very well crafted Kathy! It is really a depicting of a process of generations progressing in a typical fashion. It is intriguing yet quite invisible but perfect. Great!


  10. Very lovely, as poem and story, and love passed on and on.

  11. This was the most beautiful thing I've read in a long time. Having lost both of my parents too soon, I suspect that the sentiments resonate more with me. But the intermingling of the four generations of women, and how effortlessly you seemed to weave their stories together was quite moving for me.

    1. I'm glad you related to it...thanks for the comment

  12. On the surface grief is handled so different by different people.. The outward lamentation so strange to some... For a Swede a reaction it's quite natural to hide your sorrow. A beautiful piece Katy, and hope you are well.

  13. A journey we all take...yet that doesn't make it any easier

  14. An elegant poem about the love that passes down from the generations and holds a family together. The expression of grief is so personal, varied, and often misunderstood by others.

  15. You've caught grief, memory, and memoriam well kkkaty ~

  16. this is stunning. the progression for each part is perfect. the image of the clouds opening was lovely. and the end...a predacious gift indeed to pass on as one passes on.

    1. Thank you....I looked up predacious and couldn't find anything...what is the definition, please ;)

  17. This is a piece that weaves so much through each set, well done. A heartfelt and moving write.

  18. what stands out for me here is the connection...deeply felt and how we're woven together in our families and the being so deeply emotional interwoven as well

  19. This is so moving, I'm in tears and cannot find the words. Perfect.


All comments, constructive and otherwise, are welcome and appreciated here. Thank you to those who show an interest in my quirky style of writing, photography, painting, and presenting a feeling or thought and for stopping by A Dwelling by the Sea..