deepundergroundpoetry.com

Southern Geneology

warm, gold-brown hazel
Cherokee-almond eyes
a stained glass window,
reflecting ancestral wisdom
gathered most glorious ~
every soul-palace corner
furnished in absolute honesty;
chandelier compassion
casting warm embraces
upon all who crossed
her well-worn path

she was who she was;
you’d make no mistake
about that
else you’d catch
a snap from
her ever-ready
Benjamin Franklin 5 & Dime
plastic fly-swatter ~
the perfect tool
for afternoon after-storm
kamikaze flies
and errant grandchildren

southern Grandmas
every bit as loving as brutal
when protecting their clan;
instantly battle-ready
when any are threatened,
especially from themselves

sometimes love stings
your backside

that lazy southern drawl,
coated in sun tea and cane syrup
meant business, whether praying
for troubled little spirits ~
long, wrinkled fingers
on warm, broad palms
folding gently
over small, sweaty ones

let’s take it to someone who can help, girl

~or cursed the bruise
on your face
when she caught wind
that you’d been
fighting with the boys
bare-fisted in the yard
again;
keen eyes scanning the horizon,
looking for little men
in need of correction

we don’t hit girls
No, not even if they got
a mean right hook


her five sons and one daughter
bore some real assholes
and she’d done no better,
I’d always wanted to say so,
right out loud
at family dinner
just between the blessing
and butter biscuits,
but wouldn’t dare;
she absolutely knew
and loved us fierce, anyway
we were hers

it might have been
the last place
I felt I belonged

never aspiring to be queen
of anything,
her finest attire, a genuine smile
flowing upward into glowing irises;
she’d suffered for love
finding happiness and herself
among a garden of wildflowers
dutifully tended;
patience was most definitely
her virtue

sometimes I think it’s because
she didn’t know any better

summer of my 13th year ~
long afternoons, stretched
into sunsets
plenty of time for stories
of growing up
this way;
I soaked up everything
she spilled ~
her words still ringing true,
all these decades later

you are made of stronger stuff
than this season’s storms, girl

she was right about that, too
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 8 reading list entries 6
comments 5 reads 154
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:15am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:33am by DCLXVI_1989
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:41am by Louismatteo349
SPEAKEASY
Yesterday 11:19pm by Ahavati
POETRY
Yesterday 11:05pm by Grace