Messages
Messages from my mother
No matter when delivered
seem forever
etched in my mind
Keep your skirts down
Pants up
Shoes on
Feet on the floor
Little ladies don’t sit like that
But
I was Daddy’s little girl
Seldom lady like
Forever barefoot
Often up a tree
Willful brat
Mom would say
Stubbornness will get you nowhere
Don’t talk back
Little pictures should be seen
not heard
Doesn’t use time wisely
Runs with scissors
Sit up straight
pay attention
I am talking to you
Why can’t you just be
More of a young lady
Go brush your hair
You shouldn’t read in the dark
Too independent to submit
Legs always curled up on the couch
Not crossed daintily at the ankle
Dad’s helper in his wood shop
Hair never curled
Always standing pigeon-toed
Suck your stomach in
Back straight
Your butt is too big
Escaping from the house
Her ever watchful gaze
In jeans and a sweatshirt
with no bra
Often no shoes.
Off to college
to snare the right mate
I had such different goals
Maybe to end the war
March for free speech
Graduate
Get educated
Not my MRS
But a BA
You could get a date if you weren’t so smart
Can’t you just play dumb
Study in the law library
You are so like your Mother
Dad said one day
I was on vacation from college
Sprawled on the floor
With books all around
Going to ruin your eyes, kiddo
He switched on the light
Illuminating my shoes
under the coffee table
not far from Mom’s
She stood barefoot in the kitchen
Pigeon-toed
I love you
Her phone message said
We were a family of I love you’s
But I always said them first
I love you too
She had said that Thanksgiving morning
I had called as prescribed
The dutiful daughter at last
I would call her back tomorrow
To say I love you too
Tomorrow would be too late
Messages from my mother
No matter when delivered
seem forever
etched in my mind
Keep your skirts down
Pants up
Shoes on
Feet on the floor
Little ladies don’t sit like that
But
I was Daddy’s little girl
Seldom lady like
Forever barefoot
Often up a tree
Willful brat
Mom would say
Stubbornness will get you nowhere
Don’t talk back
Little pictures should be seen
not heard
Doesn’t use time wisely
Runs with scissors
Sit up straight
pay attention
I am talking to you
Why can’t you just be
More of a young lady
Go brush your hair
You shouldn’t read in the dark
Too independent to submit
Legs always curled up on the couch
Not crossed daintily at the ankle
Dad’s helper in his wood shop
Hair never curled
Always standing pigeon-toed
Suck your stomach in
Back straight
Your butt is too big
Escaping from the house
Her ever watchful gaze
In jeans and a sweatshirt
with no bra
Often no shoes.
Off to college
to snare the right mate
I had such different goals
Maybe to end the war
March for free speech
Graduate
Get educated
Not my MRS
But a BA
You could get a date if you weren’t so smart
Can’t you just play dumb
Study in the law library
You are so like your Mother
Dad said one day
I was on vacation from college
Sprawled on the floor
With books all around
Going to ruin your eyes, kiddo
He switched on the light
Illuminating my shoes
under the coffee table
not far from Mom’s
She stood barefoot in the kitchen
Pigeon-toed
I love you
Her phone message said
We were a family of I love you’s
But I always said them first
I love you too
She had said that Thanksgiving morning
I had called as prescribed
The dutiful daughter at last
I would call her back tomorrow
To say I love you too
Tomorrow would be too late
(c) J. Binford-Bell 2007
For more Poetry Wednesday posts see our hostess Sans Souci
this is a beautiful, powerful poem... so moving. You description of you as a child so reminded me of me... I was always a 'lot' of a tom-boy!!! Strong willed and independant!!
ReplyDeleteI'm sad that you never managed to return the message to you mum... that must be a hard memory... I always regret not telling my dad I loved him the night he died.. holding my hand...
But they both knew I'm sure...
(Treesparrow.. I've never commented on Blogspot before.. so I'm about to see what happens next)
As she shows up and helps me shop from time to time (always leading me to the best bargains) I figure she got the message.
ReplyDeleteI wrote the poem to satisfy me and put closure on the fact I did not call her back that night. But then she was already dead. My sister did not call me until 2 a.m. after the hospital had pronounced.
I figure the poem delivers the message for me.
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