Stockings at half mast –
carrier bag in hand,
she shuffles, pushing
a metal frame. Bible
at her side – settles down
on an old, park bench.
Cussing under her breath
she prays to a god
of the copper, or silver kind.
Between addresses she is;
fussy – she is not.
Inside her head, she’s still
the small child – took ballet
after school on Mondays
and on a Sunday, ran
all the way to the Mission,
reciting her text as she went...
White, Breton lace gloves
and a straw-coloured bag
shaped like a Russian doll.
Life’s quieter, less demanding,
nowadays; closing her eyes –
all she has to do to be
Pineapple Poll again.
Comments
Highhat | November 9, 2010 - 19:22
Wow fantastic Tina-
;)Pia
skinner_jennifer | November 9, 2010 - 19:23
Hi Tina,
this is a lovely poem of old age, I really did like
it.
Jenny. xx
Silver Spun Sand | November 9, 2010 - 19:26
Thanks, so very much, Pia. Glad you enjoyed;-)
Tina
Silver Spun Sand | November 9, 2010 - 19:27
Jenny, have been mulling this one around in my head for ages, and your lovely comment means much. Thank you;-)
Tina xx
rjnewlyn | November 9, 2010 - 23:19
There are some amazing images here. I liked the praying "to a god of the copper, or silver kind", even though I'm not sure what it meant - it seemed to work somehow. And the drawing in of her memories was very effective (and affecting).
Rob
Silver Spun Sand | November 10, 2010 - 08:37
Hi there, Rob;-)
'God of the copper, or silver kind'...simply means she was praying that passers-by would be generous with their small change. Hence the reference to 'copper' and 'silver'.
I am really pleased you enjoyed this one, and more than grateful you took the time to tell me.
Tina
Kahdai | November 10, 2010 - 21:11
If lifes rough for her this time, cant be fussy and needs money, if dint take a lot of thought and 'i know that feeling's then have my sympathy coz so do I K xx
Silver Spun Sand | November 11, 2010 - 08:39
I know what you mean, Kahdai;-)
Thanks for reading, Tina xx
fatboy74 | November 11, 2010 - 13:24
'Cussing under her breath
she prays to a god
of the copper, or silver kind.
Between addresses she is;
fussy – she is not.'
Love this metaphor and the oddness of the word order that makes the reader sit up and listen. Another gem. :-)
Silver Spun Sand | November 11, 2010 - 13:43
We meet again;-) Much appreciate your attention to detail in this one, fatboy. It is more than satisfying and I am glad you liked it.
Tina
fatboy74 | November 11, 2010 - 14:10
I got a bit behind with my reading, haven't been on for a few days so I'm catching up with all the good stuff I've missed. :-)
Kahdai | November 11, 2010 - 16:14
I like that order, between addresses she is, fussy she is not :)
Silver Spun Sand | November 11, 2010 - 17:06
;-)
Cavalcaderl | November 12, 2010 - 23:15
new Silver-Spun-Sand
Hi! Tina, love all the descriptions
and images in this good poem.
1st stanza
Stockings at half mast-
carrier bag in hand,
she shuffles,pushing
a metal frame. Bible
at her side-settles down
on an old,park bench.
True I have seen people out
like this.
julie x
Silver Spun Sand | November 13, 2010 - 08:40
Julie - how good to hear from you;-) Hope you are well.
Glad you enjoyed this and thanks for telling me;-)
Tina xx
kheldar | November 28, 2010 - 20:49
Enjoyed this immensely.
:--) xxx
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2010 - 10:10
My - you have been busy catching up;-) Thanks for reading and glad you enjoyed.
Tina;-)x
kheldar | November 29, 2010 - 13:44
Yeh, sorry about falling behind - I'll try to keep up in future, honest!!!
David :--) xxx
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2010 - 13:57
No matter, David. It's just lovely to hear from you again and to read your wonderful poetry;-)
Tina xxx