Thread: Mom Will Eventually be Unearthed

Booties, bottles and buntings
went the way of the wooly mammoth.
Lullabies left behind,
replaced by serenades
of forced and foul rhyme,
while flesh of little boy faces
and little girl legs
traded smooth for stubble
and online became
the monopoly of all time.
All in the blink of an eye.

Rusty trikes, musty jigsaws,
and Barbies with bad haircuts;
a plethora of prehistoric relics
reluctantly thrown in a dumpster
by gnarled hands ravaged by time's hands.
Now when exactly did that happen?
Perhaps during a prolonged wink.

Tenors are now baritones,
save for Thomas,
who flits to and fro
like a hummingbird from flower to flower
in the space of a single sentence.
Girlish giggles are now monthly moans.
Must have happened while I rested my eyes.

Once I had the stature of a giant,
now I'm a dwarf
conversing with sternums.
Words unheard by egotistical geniuses
intent on their glorified agendas
and obsessed with electronic excess.
My, how the crops have sprouted,
but in which spring, I can't recall.
Should have never donned those blinders;
someone's flipped the hourglass too fast.
They grow, I shrink.
The passage of years defines them
and renders me obsolete,
or at least so they think.

Hours drag
like the shuffle of a centenarian
since I've been deemed
an ancient artifact,
(no Wii for me)
slowly being buried
by oblivious grains
with each turn of the glass.
Oh so many moments to mull,
waiting with eyes wide open.

It'll be shovels all around this Christmas.
They'll come in handy
when the know-it-alls finally see,
Google searches aren't always successful
and the sage they need
can't be found in a spice rack.

Then they'll make their way back
shovels slung over shoulders
making mad grasps hand over hand
on the never severed cord
far fresher than my aged flesh

and I'll be waiting
with arms wide open.

You're preaching to the choir, sister, oh how I hear you! Mine are all gone, the youngest only a year past and I still haven't filled up that dumpster.

Rusty trikes, musty jigsaws,
and Barbies with bad haircuts;
a plethora of prehistoric relics
reluctantly thrown in a dumpster

I especially identify with this:

Once I had the stature of a giant,
now I'm a dwarf
conversing with sternums.

Really enjoyed, Lisa!

"Lullabies left behind," - This is a great line.

"the monopoly of all time." - I would take out the period with this line.

"Rusty trikes, musty jigsaws,
and Barbies with bad haircuts;
a plethora of prehistoric relics
reluctantly thrown in a dumpster
by gnarled hands ravaged by time's hands." - I can picture this perfectly.

"Now when exactly did that happen?" - You may not know this but I can't stand question marks in poems. That's me though.

"Perhaps during a prolonged wink." - I swear I'm stealing this line. Oh so glorious.

"who flits to and fro
like a hummingbird from flower to flower
in the space of a single sentence." - Love this, especially the last line here. It's a wonderful description.

"Girlish giggles are now monthly moans." - Ha! You all deserve it.

"and obsessed with electronic excess." - Great sound to this line.

"slowly being buried
by oblivious grains" - I didn't care for this so much.

I thought this poem ended quite well. It was a great one. Nothing terribly wrong with it and so many great images. Oh and some terrific lines. Superb.

"Girlish giggles are now monthly moans." - Ha! You all deserve it.

Oh, you are living dangerously, Whit!

Hey Lisa dear,

'Appreciation' is what I took from this poem, though I had to conjure up that 'lesson' myself. And forgive me now for some rude honesty, but I find you almost always portrait life as a tedious drag (or something close to!), which I can't help but be a little annoyed by. Admitted you do so excellently, and surely for a reason, still I'd love to read some more positive writings from you, as clearly you have gifts in the writing department.

Also, regarding this piece, I found the ending a bit too predictable, otherwise it works.

And finally and off-topic, thanks for your comment on my tree poem : )

Warmest,
Martin

Hey Lisa, I enjoyed this hugely. I can relate to it, with two grown and gone. Their rooms remain though, more or less, though one is now most of the way to being an office. The best thing about high schoolers is that (hopefully) they eventually go off to university.

I didn't get the shovels reference in the ending.

overall, a pleasure to read.

J.R.

Lisa, you have stayed true to the writer's maxim Write about what you know. There are often times when you address motherhood and I, as a writer, am selfish in the reading and gleening. Having no children of my own, when you touch on this topic I can sympathize and take it in. In a in a selfish way really because when I write prose and need a character who's a mother I can fall back on your reflections. This is the gift you give to me as a fellow writer. And when you are topical about the trials and tribulations of motherhood you somehow manage to come at it from varied angels. I am never bored.

Talk about one of my favorite familiar figures of speech. You bring in the alliterative smoothy to bring us into your journey.

Booties, bottles and buntings
went the way of the wooly mammoth

I like the winking message. And love "hour glass" imagery.

someone's flipped the hourglass too fast.
They grow, I shrink.
The passage of years defines them
and renders me obsolete,
or at least so they think.

The state of motherly angst! I thank you for an insightful and lending read. Laurie ~

Dear Cindy, All gone, huh? Lucky you, but I say that halfheartedly, it must get lonely sometimes. I knew you would relate to this one, you've juggled as many as I. My guess is you're tiny like me if you engage in sternum chat. It irks the hell out of me that I have to "look up" to people whose diapers I've changed. It's hard to get rid of the old stuff, it's like tossing a piece of yourself away. Elated you enjoyed, love.


Dear Whitaker, You've the stones of a giant, my friend. "Ha! You all deserve it." What on God's green earth would possess you to say such a thing? Believe you me, none of us want it. I'd love you to endure just one day of it, then you'd bow down to us in fear of our strength. Actually, you made me laugh so hard I'd thought I'd bust. Now onto the piece. Glad you liked the lullabies line, but I don't think I can take out the period after time, first I really want a dead stop there, second that stanza is already too much of a run-on sentence. Glad again, S2 came through in a vivid fashion. I can't nix the question mark in such a heavily punctuated piece, the masses would rebel. While I really liked the prolonged wink line, and I'm happy you did too, I thought it was iffy, glad to see it's not. Elated you liked the description of Tommy's voice, poor kid hates it. I am also fond of the aural quality of the electronic excess line, we think alike, oh boy, are you in trouble. You're right about "slowly being buried..." it's weak and I'm thinking of how to replace it, I have to find a better way to get it across. Ever so happy you enjoyed, Whitaker. It's always a great pleasure when I see your name in one of my threads, I simply love your replies.


Dear Martin, Lack of appreciation is spot-on, seasoned with neglect (oh poor me) and loss, of time, of simplicity, of a closer knit brood. I painted myself into a corner, so there's not so much I can do about the ending. I've already discussed my distinct lack of light in my other thread, so I won't rehash here. I am honored that you think me so able, your opinion means a great deal to me. I promise, if ever I spew forth some happiness, you'll be the first to know. You're welcome, I really enjoyed your piece.


Dear J.R., Tremendously pleased you enjoyed and could relate. I fear mine will never leave, with the eldest at 23, and 21, showing no signs of abandoning the nest. And why should they, their clothes are washed, they're picked up after, their meals are served, they're coddled when ill and every bill is paid without dipping into their own wallets, crap, I wouldn't leave either. It must be hard to "dismantle" the rooms, I don't envy you. The truth is, once all four are gone, I will probably die of boredom. As to the shovels, I'll be handing them out at Christmas because they may have buried me in the back of their minds and turns of the hourglass do their share to bury me deeper, but eventually circumstance will demand they dig me up. Shovels will make it easier on them, after all, I would want them to hurt their wittle (misspell intentional) hands.


Dear Laurie, Wow, I am so very honored that you can take away so much from the glorified rants of a vexed Mother disguised as poetry. That I can actually provide a glimpse you find embraceable makes me ecstatic. Ah, lovely alliteration, I'm a sucker for it, assonance and consonance also. Wonderful tools for aural quality and my favorites to work with. And the hourglass, perhaps you can drop by and glue it to the table, since it worked for you, maybe you can help me out.

Thanks so much, guys, I was worried I went in too many directions with this piece, you've quelled that anxiety with the benefit of your lovely replies.

All my best,
Lisa

My oh my! What a superb read! I can honestly sit here for about an hour ranting and raving on the glorious lines and how it's so true and such but I regret that I do not have the time. Lisa, what a fantastic piece. I especially loved this line:

"since I've been deemed
an ancient artifact,"

I'm only 17 years old and have such deemed my parents ancient artifacts, in fact I make old jokes rather often. I laughed out loud, though that doesn't seem to be the intent I couldn't help it as it hit home. So many glorious lines of wit, I must say this, to an amateur such as myself, is fantastic. Well done Lisa, very well done. Cheers.

My heartfelt apologies for the delay, Connway, I've had a bunch of stuff going on. The generosity of your kinds words had me beaming from ear to ear. Thank you ever so much. You were supposed to laugh out loud at my being deemed an ancient artifact, sarcasm is my favorite weapon. I think all kids eventually deem their parents exactly that, progress dictates that there can be no other outcome. I was relegated to the stone age when my kids found out that I didn't have color TV or AC until I was eleven, I actually played Pong and liked it, and I spent my summers in the library. Now, what they need to be wary of is the club that came with the title. I am so elated that you enjoyed, hon, if I could reach a young man of 17, then I'm really not buried too far down.

Best,
Lisa