Narrative Poem

( prose poetry )


I can still recall people in a family
of previous generations, but who
had lived beyond the usual sum of
years as was always shown from
statistics in encyclopedias seen in
everyone’s home, bought from
door-to-door salesmen, and paid
for on a monthly installment plan.

I was born towards the end of life
for many of the story-tellers in the
family enriching my imagination
since the first memories: of sitting
on a large, oval rug hand-braided
by monks in the local monastery.

During the gatherings for holidays,
showers, baptisms and wakes, and
starting before I could read or write
or nearly walk, I would sit wedged
between my father’s shoes to listen,
enrapt, while his father regaled us.

Some sitting nodding their heads
and mouthing ‘oh yes, I remember’
while others would sit with ankles
crossed, eating walnut bundt cake.

As the stories of crossing the Great
Plains, and of the Great Depression
a half-century later rang out, and
we leaned closer so as not to miss
a word or spill a single drop of tea
(my little cup from my tea set from
Christmas - had milk with Ovaltine),

A few of the women, including my
mother, had paused in preparing
food in the large kitchen, to look
out and watch while drying hands
on their checkered cotton aprons.

The aroma of roast beef from the
juices sizzling, and rhubarb pies
baking, was like perfume had they
been wearing any. And I could see
into the dining room where, on the
long table with fine heirloom lace
linen decorated with old Dresden,
pewter, porcelain and poinsettias.

And so it was on this one occasion
after my grandfather had finished,
and shown to his place of honor to a
begonia-festooned wing chair, the
time had come for a truly special
honor as my great-grandmother
rose almost regally from the other
matching wing chair. Wide-eyed,
I could see that her ruffled frock
was like the chair of flowers.

This was only my third time that I
could remember having seen her.
But even then I knew there couldn’t
be many other families, no matter
where, with anyone like her.

A surviving twin, in those days,
she played the piano and spoke
French. She did watercolors, wrote
children’s verse for books she also
illustrated. Became a teacher and
taught Latin, English and Music.
I would not be surprised if I found
out tomorrow she had also walked
atop the Great Wall of China.

So there she stood, all four feet ten
inches of her which on that day was
statuesque to me. Family and guests
extended a warm applause with
genuine smiles for the elder who
was an icon to all in the clan.

Still between Father’s shoes, I bang
my little hands together and chirp
like a bird, “Mi-mi, Mi-mi!” I could
never manage to say ‘grandmother’,
so that became her name forever,
even after she had passed before the
next Christmas arrived. Even if you
never met, she’d always be our Mimi.

She gave a little bow to all in the
main room, and the kitchen, as
oven timers went off, one by one.
It sounded like a flock of pigeons
as we tittered with polite laughter.

Before continuing,
she put a red and green drawstring
bag at the foot of our holiday family
tree among the other gifts that were
given in the exchange that evening.

From a vast repertoire she regaled,
of travels through a long life. Her
words remain in my own mental
scrapbook, the last Christmas she
spent with us.  And before we all
rose up to go into the formal dining
room to tuck into a holiday feast,
Mimi recited a poem as her eyes
welled up with love and emotion:

When you were little racing thru’ the grass
While playing with a simple rock and sling,
You only knew that day would never pass,
For only children know a simple thing.

To stay the way you are like Peter Pan
Is everything you wish for when you’re big.
Eat lollipops and gumdrops all you can
Till there’s no room for apple suckling pig.

I know to be a child seems lots of fun,
But trust me, it gets sweeter later on.
A springtime ends before it has begun,
For youth won’t last forever ‘till it’s gone.

Let’s all hold hands it’s time to say a prayer
In thanks for all the blessings of the year.
The bounty given us which now we share,
Our hearts go out that we are gathered here.

After dinner, during the exchange
of presents, Mom put me in my PJs
with the bunny feet - it was getting
late for every baby bunny like me.

Years later, when I was old enough
to own such things, I was given two
beautiful matching bracelets that
Mimi wanted me to have after she
was gone. The family gave them to
me on my 15th birthday. They are    
precious and delicate.  I call them
Mimi’s wrist bones.




Photo of the matching bracelets by Jade Pandora

I was leaving the beer line  
When she bumped into me    
Had one in each hand    
Spilling Bud Light on her Def Leppard tee      
I said excuse me ma'am      
Can I buy you a beer      
She said that would be nice      
But that's not why I'm here      
As she grabbed me by the hand
 
I was chillin' in a beach chair      
As the sun came out      
Smoke filled the air      
While she danced in that Memphis mud      
The band played their last song      
I smiled and said, how about that beer      
She said that would be nice      
But that's not why I'm here        
As she grabbed me by the hand
 
We were sitting by the fountain        
As those ducks came in        
I could see it in her eye        
So I said goodbye        
She leaned in and whispered        
That's not why I'm here        
She let go of my hand, gave me that Georgia smile        
She said don’t worry, I’ll be back next year        
As I watched her walk away...        
All I could think about...      
How she...      
      
She blew me away        
Like a Memphis storm in May        
We danced in the rain        
While the band played on        
We slipped in the mud        
Sat there for awhile        
Then I brushed her hair back        
She kissed me with that Georgia smile

As the heavens let her shine
A passionate beauty, she’s so fine
I’ve never felt being in such a bind
Mellowed tenderness, yet never blind
Flowing satin red, fine silhouette entwined....

The colour, brightens every fold
The fragrance that makes me bold
Smooth as silk, the frock you hold
Hearing an enchanting story told
Fresh it may be, i’ll never grow old

A thousand rays or more
Fifty shades none any less
She paints at her very best
Yet its the grace of her dress
Make my heart skip the press

Elegance, seeing pace and drift
A flash, you’re unknowingly swift
The winds of change make a shift
Bold and beautiful, are you a gift?
Scarlett, the heart’s stealing thief

The calm waves from the breeze
The flutter of the red lacy fleece
Alluring smile weakens my knees
Once again and let my heart ease
“I am begging, oh darling please”

A Chinese city of Sweet serenity
Lady in red, a charming personality
Shapely brows and slender cheeks
A cheeky smile that naturally speaks
Soft and calm, glamorous and pretty
Dressed in red, oh my, what a beauty!