a modern woman


she is a modern woman, born of wealth

the kind hard won, but wealth nonetheless

she eschews antiques, goes for modern

though modern as it was some time ago


she reads novels, nothing which isn't

on the current bestseller list, she plays

tennis on saturdays, then takes a bath

she isn't social, preferring grandchildren


to peers, and why not, we're pretty great

modern or not, she wears her long gray hair

in a bun, which she brushes out before bed,

her single bed on the sleeping porch


cold weather or hot. she takes no truck

with cuisine, happy to thaw and microwave

something stouffer's made in their kitchen

sips jack daniels while watching the news


thirteen grandchild, not so many, but each

think they are her favorite, which takes

some doing i suspect. tolerant, oh my word,

straight or not, gray or green, lout or whip


it's no difference to her, we're all god's creatures

busy, lord, hospital gift shop one day

veteran's rehab the next, how those sailors

can knit, did you know, leather-craft, sewing


this was during the war, the one that came

after the one that didn't end all wars, 

modern, oh yeah, i once asked to see her

wedding album. what album, which is how


i came to know my mom was an unexpected gift

but what is all this but a list, she is the center

of our world, her house is our home, and

though she doesn't read them, the old books


her father collected have been our schooling

and the golden book of bible stories are all

the bible study we'll ever have, heathens

that we were and are, and little worse for it


modern and eternally young, never give a inch

to quote hank stamper, her own thoughts

kept to herself, burying her two daughters

a year apart. no, she never gives a inch, until


one day she does. a modern woman, whose

ashes we scatter on the beach, and whose

vast collection of wave soften stones we return

to their sandy shore as we tell stories on her


a modern woman, our grandmother, who

chose to bestow her wealth, as she conceived it,

which was love, upon us, doing for me

what few others could or would, letting me be me.  



Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 646 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2017-08-20 at 21:02

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This is one of the handful of poems published on this site that has made me feel glad to be here

Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!

Beautifully expressed, I devoured each stanza and lingered over the final two.

This is the woman we would all like to be one day. She knows exactly who she is. Excellent!*

Yes, a very wonderful read. A great story.
Well done.

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
I am reading this over and over and over becoming apart of it and it apart of me. I live in it. I see it and feel it. I am it. There is so much tenderness in these lines and respect for all the lives of the characters. You built a whole world in such a short poem/story. You have me in tears because this touches the heart. Beautifully done. kathy