Private Dining

Random memories through my child's eyes

My grandmother 

had a cake tin

it held an assortment of buttons

my little eyes

saw not the tin

but a precious hoard of treasure

each button was

examined

with delight and admiration

shapes and sizes

wood and plastic

rummaged by tiny fingers

 

In music class

sat on the floor

with legs crossed on wood parquet

I happened on

a tiny cube

and jammed it up my nostril

perhaps it was

my childish way

of forging a rebellion

for cymbols not

given to bang and

crash nor drums to beat upon

 

At age of 3

with a sore throat

my father made honey tea

I took a gulp

and spat it out

he lashed out smacking my legs

I didn’t mean

to anger him

I simply abhorred the taste

he didn’t mean

to make me cry

it was never mentioned again

 

My mothers drawers

an endless source

of revered fascination

cornucopia

utopia

of women’s most cherished things

clip on earrings

well used lipsticks

in pink and orange and red

false eyelashes

nail varnishes

and stick on diamante

 

Multi-coloured

nylon headscarfs

I knotted around my waist

fashioned a skirt

of fine chiffon

and a yashmak for my face

fancied myself

a belly dancer

shimmying round the bedroom

finished the look

with feet swimming

and clip clopping in mother’s high heels

 

Kitchen cupboards

worth a forage

for cake sprinkles and silver

iced balls

chocolate drops and

rice paper sheets

delicously

scrummy and yum

tastier for their discovery

all very nice

to eat

a nose and a scoff

in the afternoon

private dining is hard to beat

Reviews

[Vanessa Whiteley]

You paint a lovely picture of childhood in this one and I adore that first stanza. I can't help thinking however that I would focus on the idea of the kitchen and cake tin ect I think that would lend the poem more intimate intensity. Maybe keep the music class for another poem and focus on:

My grandmother
had a cake tin
it held an assortment of buttons
my little eyes
saw not the tin
but a precious hoard of treasure
each button was
examined
with delight and admiration
shapes and sizes
wood and plastic
rummaged by tiny fingers

Kitchen cupboards
worth a forage
for cake sprinkles and silver
iced balls
chocolate drops and
rice paper sheets
delicously
scrummy and yum
tastier for their discovery
all very nice
to eat
a nose and a scoff
in the afternoon
private dining is hard to beat

Just an idea - lovely poem either way.

[Murphy]

Ooh, very nice! ... a sweet taste of nostalgia... beautiful recollections. But I love the ending - "private dining is hard to beat"... that's great. Nice work!

[SPINNING ON that dizzy ..]

Oh April - I feel like we just did a little girl sleepover!!! I knew we had so much in common. Haha - I have the button tin and one my mother in law gave me - when they used to take the buttons off things that were too warn out to patch again!!! Your words take me with you and back to my grandmother's closet full of big purses and stoles(!) she loved leopard!!! gloves up to there, red-red lipstick that she kissed her fingers and rubbed on her cheeks.... oh, the clip earrings and the hatboxes.... and the pearls, and the high heeled shoes - she had a bag for each pair of shoes.... There was a huge old potato chip tin that she kept all the jimmies and sprinkles and colored sugars in.... and marachino cherries with a toothpick from the ever present jar.... Tell me you played Parcheesi and I will swear we were separated as children! This is so delightful..... sorry about the tea thing - bad reaction which it sounds like he was ashamed of later.... I am sure he would have chosen to undo.... It is amazing how some things can take you right back in time..... haha - thanks for that,

Kath