Penelope Fairchild

By Silver Spun Sand

Tue, 09 Nov 2010
  • 4348 reads
19 comments
 

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.

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Comments

Submitted by Highhat on
Wow fantastic Tina- ;)Pia

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Thanks, so very much, Pia. Glad you enjoyed;-) Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Hi Tina, this is a lovely poem of old age, I really did like it. Jenny. xx

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Jenny, have been mulling this one around in my head for ages, and your lovely comment means much. Thank you;-) Tina xx

 

Submitted by rjnewlyn on
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

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
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

 

Submitted by Kahdai on
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

"I will make sense with a few reads \^^/ "

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
I know what you mean, Kahdai;-) Thanks for reading, Tina xx

 

Submitted by fatboy74 on
'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. :-)

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
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

 

Submitted by fatboy74 on
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. :-)

 

Submitted by Kahdai on
I like that order, between addresses she is, fussy she is not :)

"I will make sense with a few reads \^^/ "

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
;-)

 

Submitted by Cavalcader on
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

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Julie - how good to hear from you;-) Hope you are well. Glad you enjoyed this and thanks for telling me;-) Tina xx

 

Submitted by kheldar on
Enjoyed this immensely. :--) xxx

cool

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
My - you have been busy catching up;-) Thanks for reading and glad you enjoyed. Tina;-)x

 

Submitted by kheldar on
Yeh, sorry about falling behind - I'll try to keep up in future, honest!!! David :--) xxx

cool

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
No matter, David. It's just lovely to hear from you again and to read your wonderful poetry;-) Tina xxx