P.O.V.

Momma's yellow table

had chrome legs

and chairs to match.

The whole family

ate buttermilk biscuits,

fresh eggs and a hundred

other country cookin's

from a spread that was

always wide and deep

to the tune of rumblings

about religion and politics

till most of them were dead,

or something like it.

And here's where I have to stop.

All that was fifty odd years ago.

but I'm still here, their voices

echo, the tastes linger,

and it all fades as though

Benji Compson

told the story of

American history

just this way.

Reviews

[Lorry]

Its how we are so uniquely similar but completely different too. All it takes is a smile, a smell, a look. In other words it explains how a pipe instantly transports me to gramps house, with his ever silent smiles.
I always thought he was just quiet but happy. It wasnt until he died that i realised he was ill and thsts why he was quiet, he was in pain but what did 8 year old me know?
Or mum or grans kitchens, full of bread baking, soups simmering and joint in oven being turned with her foot, while stirring cake mix anf holding a baby in the other hand. She loved being busy but had a sneaky fun side too. So bread reninds me of her snd how she was born anf died on valentines day. I always hated that cupid and his bow rubbish. He was just a street thug, with all his drive by piercings, making shares in chocolate snd flower companies tgrive.
So in summation Vol, just keep to your view and jusr keep your eyes on it, looking is always best helped with an ice cold beer and an old unremembered reading psperback, where you get to make your mind up all over again, without the publishers blurb spoiling it. Sounds like a pretty nifty pov to have.

[Vol]

Lorry,
hey man! What's up? The many summers and weekends I spent at my grandparent's house, made me. My memories of all those uncles, aunts, cousins and friends crowded in the living room or around the table, and many times on the front porch, rocking chairs, swinging, talking, shelling peas, shucking corn... It is a long list, but the evenings always ended the same way, everyone nose deep in couches or chairs, kneeling while papa prayed for the president, the country, and each of us in turn. I don't think I'll ever escape the smell of butts and horsehair.

[Lorry]

It was great as kids because kids are always happy to see other kids (well, until the tsunami of teenagehood) where it was just another kid you kinda knew but were just happy for someone else to chase.
I reckon youth was my favourite time, closely followed by the seen in shadows, but elusive even now, my oncoming doteage.
Anf its not like i dont like rice pudding or anything, so strap in and BRING IT ON! 😊

[Vol]

Rice pudding... ewww, bread pudding, too.
Most of my cousins are like my brothers and sisters.

[Thomas W Case]

Powerful imagery. You take the reader right into the scene. Very well done.