~the thunder of history in her eyes

Inspired by art _ Old Woman Who Loved Pigeons by Judy Somerville

grasp of cold fingers touch

                within a warm humbl'd heart,

    speaks through blurred cataract’d vision

her aging world now seems small & inconsequential

     yet her stories are larger than the universe,

extend'd years lived to their fullest purpose

                never rest'd on her laurels

  even way back when women were tied to the kitchen

          she made her voice heard,

 albeit now a bit shaky & wavering 

    within her embolden'd apron strings

                unfold'd upon secrets,

           impart'd a million trial test'd smiles, 

held joy in her hands,

        aside her share of sadness in her heart

dealt with loss,  paid the piper plenty,

    revel'd in her golden glory days too

her hushed words nonetheless powerful,

    wisdom beyond compare, and then some to spare

    each earn'd wrinkle etch'd 

                    tells a story of intrigue, 

If you listen closely, with intent, you can still hear 

         the thunder of history in her eyes...

Author's Note

Reviews

[J. K. Beach]

Ah, Frieda... this was my first tasty treat from the Cafe this morning... I even listened to the lovely song (first... ) before I read your even lovelier words. Grandmother's (was this about yours in part?) are special beings--grown from long experience with all sorts of life's weather.

I was a lucky boy... I knew all my grandparents and seven of eight of my great grandparents, but my mom's mother... Maw Ruby was beyond priceless. Your poem has that gentle grandmother swag (my new favorite word... stolen from my middle school daughter) it waltzed into my mind and danced with my memories of her, Thanks so much for sharing!

[Frieda P]

Sadly, I never knew either, they lived in Italy, I finally met one when I visited, and she was in such poor health, we never really made a connection. I was close to my cousin's grandfather, that's about as good as it got. Thanks so much for your glowing words J.K. so glad it took you to that place, love swag by the way, I might steal it too, sounds like jazz'd to me. :)

[kublakhan27]

As is par for the course in your writing Mrs.R, you evoke such personal visions, yet you manage to do it in a way that makes those visions universal, conjuring different memories and emotions for all of us. This lady for instance, just by nature of being the feature of a painting, is shrouded in mystery, for only the artist knows who she truly is...the rest of us must search within to decide who she is for ourselves. I can see by the reviews that your evocation skills have not been lost on us...'her aging world now seems small & inconsequential / yet her stories are larger than the universe'...the old lady almost becomes a metaphor for life itself, and the natural progression of generations...you've really been showing off a diversity as of late that perhaps you didn't even know you had Frieda, or maybe you do know but your eternally modest self refuses to acknowledge it...I've said it before, but there's absolutely nothing you can't do with a pen and your imagination...again I come away from your words in total awe, and unequivocal respect :) xo

[Baby Ricochet]

In many cultures the elders are venerated. In America with so much emphasis on youth and beauty, not so much. It's a damn shame too. Good poem Frieda

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this reminds me of stories my mom would tell...of her childhood and beyond...what she went through back then....even as mostly a housewife...such strength, such resilience...and now at 92...
much she may not remember enough to share...but still some stories...
this really speaks in such a nostalgic way.

[redzone]

So true, "the thunder of history in her eyes".. Knew my mom's mom. She was a kind and gentle woman but could conger up hurricanes when dealing with my brother and my youthfulness. She died in 1965. She was from the era were you swept and washed the front steps and pavement and hung wash out on the clothes line. We lived with her since i was 4 until she died. She had diabetes and suffered a stroke and at the end didn't recognize any of us anymore. But all you write in your elegant portrayal describes her as well. Her name was Pearl Rohrbach. She was thunder and lightning and a spring breeze .. Frieda, your poem seems to have inspired all of us to visit our grandmothers as well as other older women .. thanks ..

Curt

[Cerise]

OMG....I loved it....it touched me soo mcuh from the start you have captured readers attention till the end...A phenomenal piece.....i specially loved the ending lines..

[Daydreamer]

Absolutely stunning!! Very talented, written a gorgeous poem

[MsJewel]

Your poem reminds me of visiting my father in a retirement home and sitting with his friends listening to the stories they told - so much wisdom. I miss those days....

Your words fit the art that inspired your poem so well Frieda. Truly a masterpiece in writing.

:) Julie

[Matching Socks]

Gosh, the reminds me of my grandmothers so so much. One passed recently, the other is still alive but living in Macedonia. We go back every 3/4 years. Such a beautiful write here Frieda. Really enjoyed it.

[Sophy Freebirds]

I never knew any of my grandparents... and i envy each and everyone who had that shaking hand to hold unto in times of trouble. :) .. i especially like the lines depicting her wisdom which is ofcourse unparelleled. Thanks for sharing such a lovely poem Freida.

~Sophy

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

A nice tribute to any grand parent.
Good write.