deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sentimental Value
Visits to grandma and grandpa’s,
one, brilliant, highlight of my childhood.
A man, not burdened with verbosity,
grandfather’s great love for me
permeated my heart and soul
encamped in my memory
helped to fill griefs yawning hole.
From their dining table
I’d survey the room.
A veritable souvenir museum.
Graduated display table
exhibited teacups with saucers
embossed with minuscule images
of fascinating places visited.
I’d daydream of travelling to see them.
One item filled me with peace.
A serene, figure of matte porcelain
sat next to a rosewood clock
on a mantle of similar hue
An ancient Japanese fisherman
rod in hand, on some shore kneeling
jingasa at his hip leaning
wicker creel with lid askew
The quintessence of grandfather
captured in that diorama
kind visage, wise, and stoic.
I yearned it to inherit.
When both grandparents
had said and done,
pragmatic father, averse to bother
boxed up his parents’ home
donated, their treasures
to a thrift store in town.
Whilst perusing an antique store
I spied my old friend in facsimile.
A Lladroesque statuette
in hues of blue, brown, and gray.
The sagacious, now bearded fisherman.
He has the same look and feel,
save he prefers urn over creel.
Tag read $20, a small price to pay.
Now resting on a windowsill shore
he angles my office expanse
Happily I smile looking up at him
and what’s more,
I feel my grandfather’s presence
one, brilliant, highlight of my childhood.
A man, not burdened with verbosity,
grandfather’s great love for me
permeated my heart and soul
encamped in my memory
helped to fill griefs yawning hole.
From their dining table
I’d survey the room.
A veritable souvenir museum.
Graduated display table
exhibited teacups with saucers
embossed with minuscule images
of fascinating places visited.
I’d daydream of travelling to see them.
One item filled me with peace.
A serene, figure of matte porcelain
sat next to a rosewood clock
on a mantle of similar hue
An ancient Japanese fisherman
rod in hand, on some shore kneeling
jingasa at his hip leaning
wicker creel with lid askew
The quintessence of grandfather
captured in that diorama
kind visage, wise, and stoic.
I yearned it to inherit.
When both grandparents
had said and done,
pragmatic father, averse to bother
boxed up his parents’ home
donated, their treasures
to a thrift store in town.
Whilst perusing an antique store
I spied my old friend in facsimile.
A Lladroesque statuette
in hues of blue, brown, and gray.
The sagacious, now bearded fisherman.
He has the same look and feel,
save he prefers urn over creel.
Tag read $20, a small price to pay.
Now resting on a windowsill shore
he angles my office expanse
Happily I smile looking up at him
and what’s more,
I feel my grandfather’s presence
Published 27th Apr 2020
Author's Note
NaPo/GloPo/WriMo 2020 #26
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 4
reads 375
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
27th Apr 2020 6:12am
Beautiful. I believe my Mom has that statue. She collected Lladro when she was young.
Your words created a perfect vision of that old fisherman. Thank for triggering a happy memory.
Your words created a perfect vision of that old fisherman. Thank for triggering a happy memory.
27th Apr 2020 6:26am
You're most welcome, KinkPoet! Thank you for reading the piece and for your wonderful comment. Your mother's statuette is authentic Lladro mine is a knock-off, says "Made in China" on the bottom. Seems your mom has the real deal.😊
19th May 2020 00:48am
Easy to draw images in my mind from your words and these memories. Really enjoyed it.
19th May 2020 00:59am
Thank you so much, Kristina! That you could clearly discern the images means a lot to me. Cheers❣❣🙏
