Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 101
Come join us!
Elephants and grandchildren never forget. ~Andy Rooney
My grandmother spoke of things unseen
like southern winds through rustling leaves
All the stories some would dare not tell
Strolled her tongue like lovers on a garden dell
And letters never written to the world
Were placed in my heart as just a girl
Like graffiti’s true art on a northern wall
She shared explicitly her rise and her fall
Then all her secrets left one day
They rode her wings final flight away
Yet all those quiet convictions I still can hear
They live within me and whisper soft yet clear
For grandmother spoke of things unseen
And my heart still listens and my heart believes.
Dedicated to my maternal grandmother, Hazel Cameron
Covington Odeneal. She had a beautiful
southern draw, and her stories were always wonderful and fascinating. I lost her when I was only 13 years old to pneumonia
in 1976. She has been on my mind even
more these days. Please be safe everyone, and remind others
that we need to be safe not just for ourselves, but for our family members at risk,
our neighbors, and all the beautiful and diverse people with whom we share this
world.
That's magic, Carrie. Yep.
ReplyDeleteYes, a magical poem. You drew me right to your grandmother's knee - and my own grandma. Such amazing women! "They rode her wings final flight away." Sigh. But their stories and wisdom live within us still.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words. Only one of my grandparents was alive when I was born, and one of my grandparents was born in 1870, meaning 3 generations cover 150 years and counting. So I can relate to your words. Indeed, my father was 12 when Spanish Flu raged. He went on to live a long and rewarding life.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is incredibly sweet, I imagine everyone who reads it will think of their own grandmother memories.
ReplyDeleteThe secrets passed between women of different generations. I keep thinking about my own grandmother who lived through the depression. And I've noticed that many of her traits have come out either consciously or unconsciously in myself. I'm so very thankful for her wisdom and guidance even in her absence.
ReplyDeleteIt's said children are the blank slates on which we write. Your grandma wrote carefully! Beautiful poem.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful poem. My grandmother was a rare person, lively, gracious, loving, and intelligent. This made me think of her in so many ways. This poem evokes magic of memories.
ReplyDeleteThis is an enchanting portrait, Carrie. My grandmother was a tough woman and righteously protective of her family, having lost my mother's father when my mother was very young and this calls up many memories. :)
ReplyDeleteCarrie. I love this, I or/and my mother fit this sooo well. My Grandmother died in the flu, 1917 epidemic. Mom was six then. Mrs. Jim's father died when she was seven.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know what lions and tigers were except for books, Little B***k Sambo. Until I was in the 7th grade when our school went to the circus at a city 30 miles away. I suppose they were tigers I saw, I have to think twice now to decide if I'm seeing a lion or a tiger. (Things got a little better when I married, Mrs. Jim is an LSU tiger. Geaux Tigers!!)
I am thinking that most here is true. This could not be true in our cities' large schools. Kids talk and share what they know. A class may high hundreds or over 1000 students. Mine had one, me.
I'm glad you wrote this, you did wonderfully for your prompt. I started writing yesterday but had to stop. Wrote the last verse this morning but set the stage for # II.
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Thank goodness your grandmother. I can hear my mother and father guiding me at times. Thanks for sharing this beautiful poem.
ReplyDelete"Like graffiti’s true art on a northern wall" Perfect.
ReplyDelete" All the stories some would dare not tell
ReplyDeleteStrolled her tongue like lovers on a garden dell" what a lovely line! ANd what a fine relationship between grandmother and child! In my opinion, this is what grandmothers are for.
She sounds wonderful, Carrie. The poem is beautiful!
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful. Hope you are well~ Jen
ReplyDeleteGrans have that effect don't they? My Gran tagged up the trains in Brooklyn. She rolled deep in the scene..
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