
Day 29: I. Napowrimo, a window view, II. PA’s AprilPAD an evening poem,
III. The Poeming Are There Birds In Heaven
I.
Some Windows Don’t Close
I’m wearing my mother’s pearls.
I can feel her around my throat.
She put excuses into our public narrative,
an excuse for his behaviour, or maybe
an excuse for why she stayed and stayed.
She had these pearls
restrung after Dad died.
There was snow. I remember that.
I’d pushed my sister on a sledge.
She fell off, red rivers on her cheek.
And then he grabbed Mum’s throat.
Her pearl necklace broke.
Pearls rolling and bouncing on
the kitchen floor. Like hollow hope,
disappearing under the Frigidaire.
I just stood there. Soundless.
Caught in a constant hour. I am
still caught in that geometry.
I can feel her around my throat
when I wear my mother’s pearls.
II.
What A Sight
The night sky is
covered in commas.
I have an appointment
with the optometrist
in two weeks.
None too soon.
Some binge-drinking yobs
went on a rampage last night.
Sprayed graffiti on the street.
It rained this morning.
Can’t read a word of it now.
Hindsight
is useful when eating a jar
of roasted peanuts.
III.
Shared with @napowrimo @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay #napowrimo2021 on Twitter © Misky 2021
7 responses to “Day 29 NaPoWriMo 2021”
Such strong imagery!
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You speak of gems, and maternal jewels and men who are fools. I hear your tears and see your sighs.
Open that fridge door, let the light pour forth – there may be more by the skirting board.
It is not your kitchen floor to clean.
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Funny how this poetry lark can spark old memories. Thanks for reading along this month, Graham.
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“There is always room for a window.” I like this spirit. Beautiful.
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With the first poem, I can see why those events would be melded together. It’s a wonder anyone survives and is even remotely functional after some childhoods.
Good luck at the optometrist.
Love the Bosch image and see those apples as a huge symbol through the window.
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God, Woman! you are getting good. That first poem is strong.
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Thanks, b. It has some promise.
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