Spring in the Yard with No Grass

Spring in the Yard with No Grass

A Poem by My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

 

I nap on a brown army blanket and I am content.
I breathe in the smoke from Daddy’s Chesterfield cigarette and his Old Spice Cologne
I ignore the gumballs under the blanket.
I count the flowers in the linoleum on the kitchen floor.
I memorize my phone number and the pictures in my Little Golden Library Book.
I like the flowers best – the yellow ones that look like butter.
The flowers on the linoleum are red.
The television is always on as
The World Turns
If I open the cupboard under the sink will I still find your whiskey bottle there?
Does your ironing board still crowd the dining room where no one eats together?
Do you still have the ashtray I brought you from Luray Caverns?
Do you still catch your toe under our worn carpet and cuss at the dog?
Have you shot him yet?
Do you still write me everyday in your mind?
Can I come home again?
Where rabbits hutch in Aunt Irma’s backyard.
Where Bill Mackey’s motor scooter dives down a hill that seemed steeper then.
Where you are still young and you tie a perfect bow in my sash and send me off starched and ironed to conquer the first grade.
Where the houses on both sides are filled with people who love me.
Where you stand on the front porch and holler “It’s Howdy Doody Time” and I run home to you.
 

© 2008 My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer


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I wonder where home is sometimes . . . there are phrases that speak of home to me . . .

Posted 13 Years Ago


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We are an online writing community that provides writers with the feedback, motivation, and advice needed to achieve their writing goals.The Poetic Voice Community is fast and easy to join, and you will not get lost in it's easy maneuvering features. We here at Poetic Voice also hope to grow as a community of friends. Our intention, and wish is to learn and share with others. Basically we believe an open mind, and heart can promote growth. We hope to gain an understanding that can stretch and reach around the world.

Posted 13 Years Ago


So much more than a list. I felt pangs, needs, wants, and regrets. I felt a simple, sincere life beginning in a world imprinted, passed through with emotion, then held in memory with only a little longing. I would never choose to go back and I bet you wouldn't either. A beautiful heart felt piece by a beautiful lady.

Peace and Love,
papaed

Posted 15 Years Ago


Well-constructed and executed piece; there's as much story between the lines as in them. Wonderful mixture of recollection and longing--it doesn't escape notice that there's no mention of the mother--that is handled indirectly and deftly. A very fine piece of work.

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

what great memories. lovely list... calmed me.
i'm glad you are back!

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on July 3, 2008

Author

My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer
My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

Falls Church, VA



About
My first novel was inspired by my own childhood on Pungo Creek in rural North Carolina where I grew up in a house shared by three generations. It seems it took a lifetime to write but it was actually.. more..

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