Mother Love
Tired feet cracked
and worn
Brown from the dust
Hot from the road
Step aside to the
matted grass
She shifts the watergrass
bundle
Switching arms and
shaking
Loose a tired
shoulder
Before picking up her
basket
Moving on toward the
village
A shimmer on the
horizon
Hummocks to anyone passing
Home to her and others
Eyes scan the humid skies and hope
Come evening the rains come
Grasses
soak and soften
Pliant in a tub of the cool
water
Along with her tired feet
Her legs swirl the
long blades
Gently work flexing
toes
Stretching ankles easing
aches
She weaves baskets
and hats
Staring out at the
evening sky
Fingers and wrists
move in rhythm
While she dreams of
market day
When she will sit in
the sun
Waiting for traders
to come
Her hat will shield
her eyes
Picking the best will be hard
All are made with skill and love
Her hands will hold
the coins tight –
Her daughter will go
to school
Wear a clean blouse
and shoes
Blue paper booklets a
shiny pencil
These will do to help
her on her way
When she is grown and
far away
Perhaps she’ll
remember
Baskets carrying more than dreams
Hats shielding a head full of wishes
A small pouch and coins of passage
Unabashedly sentimental, but I cannot help but crawl inside that woman's skin as she walks along the wayside, loaded with the makings of ... what ? Is it fuel, or bedding, or the raw materials for a basket like the one she carries ? The photo begs a story.
This piece is being shared at Tess's weekly writing group ... Magpie Tales -The Mag 175. Others have posted before me, go see what they've written.
Well done!
ReplyDeleteVery well written! I like to crawl into these figures skins too ! I wish I hadn't been so late and tired Sunday- I might have made the effort you did! thanks.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is incredibly descriptive ... I loved it!!!!
ReplyDeleteWhat a touching and gentle story. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this Susan; I think it is one of your best. You seem to be developing and growing as a writer - as a poet. The last three lines - perfect.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Nell! This complement means so much, as I tend to go hot and cold with 'inspiration' and also toy with writing to strict 'forms' and then falling back to free verse for other things. I really should join a course to really learn poetic form and learn the intricacies of meter and rhyme ... for now, I search the web for tutorials, absorb the instructional posts on different blogs (yours included, and experiment as best I can.
DeleteThe closing lines are very evocative, that's for sure - but ALL CAPITALS (!) plus larger ones at the start of each line, I found a trifle unsettling to read... Made me feel like a kid at school not yet involved with 'joined up writing', as I've heard it called!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jinksy! I have never really thought how 'font' can alter the reading experience other than when it is used to emphasize meaning ... I have to go and play with this poem in my word files to edit and see what I think about changes!
ReplyDeleteSusan, this is a wonderfully evocative poem. You captured something of my own emotions surrounding the image. I saw her as a basket weaver, too. The cadence of your words is perfect. It reads out loud so well.
ReplyDeleteExcellent...always enjoy your beautiful writes, Susan...
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed this and was especially touched by the last few lines.
ReplyDelete=)