Care Bear mania
It was on our lunch boxes, our children's clothes, in their hair on barrettes.
Care bear games, care bear cards, care bear hats and coats.
Care bear stare.
My older two daughters went nuts.
Their six-year-old sister watched the same Care Bear Movie 13 times
In a row.
Vivacious children, drama Queens and Kings
wearing mother rags and big old father hats
One held a pot with a silver spoon for bang
the other held an old guitar bereft of strings
Gathering their peers they opened up the show
in Jimmy's huge garage, a row of plastic chairs
One played the flute the other favored drums
picking up the tune they all began to croon;
Later when the sun emerged behind a blue hole,
the starlet brave and sure wearing filigreed barrettes
sang and clicked her heels to the rhythm a
cacophonous band, playing on and on and on.
May 27, 2021
I was not the outgoing one.
That was Shelly.
I was not the perky one.
That was Sheila.
I was not a 60”s diva.
That was Shirley.
They were the ‘It’ Girls.
I was THAT other one.
The one who wore matching barrettes,
And black and gray clothes.
No color.
No pizzazz.
No wow factor.
There is the STRANGE one
They would say as I sat in a chair
Not paying attention to their parties,
Hiding in a corner, as far away from the
Psychedelic strobe lights as I could get.
This was not said in a mean way,
But rather in a disappointed way
You see our mother was an ‘It’ girl too.
It's 4:07 a.m.
This week I have had a virus, two asthma episodes, a biopsy, and I have traveled over 600 miles to see 6 grandchildren who got strep throat before my return.
I have been playing catch up today, Easter.
Because I have 4 baskets to create, a confirmation, a baby shower, a get-well-gift, and a first communion too.
Oh, I forgot the birthday parties.
Two of my grandchildren are turning 11 and 13 this week.
Catch up meant I had 8 hours to travel from store to store,
actively seeking anything that is left.
One chocolate bunny?
Two barrettes?
A cross with a slight break?
I would have just "Amazoned" it,
except
Amazon
never gives me the
Shopping Fix I need.
Dainty, Black Pasha of Egypt, diamonds sitting solitaire, set in rose gold, barrettes swinging from my daughter’s hair, she’s a Decillionaire, outside of God, her worth, nothing else could possibly compare, an isthmus, no an island surrounded by inhaled air, thy royal heir, Zeus -n- Hermes fought to the death for that glazed, glamorous glance of a glare, startled by the stars stealing a stare, an elegant, intense intellect overpowering intelligence, creating miraculous miracles in pairs, walking down that mirage of invisible stairs, the daughters of a King, a Queen, a Diva, a precious, precocious dream, physically being seen, the offspring of Nakym, thy 3 gorgeous, prosperous pundits, angelic angels appearing as human beings, thy precious, precocious dream, physically being seen, thy daughters, thy 3 Queens.
I more than Love you all,
Adirah
Kalani
Zhari
Still hallowed is the well, and so they pray,
offer: prayer cards, candles, and bitty photos
of children to come and those now unmade,
each woman rife with grief in longing’s throes.
The sound of stream shakes beneath their feet
in the grotto chiseled from native stone.
Niches, shelves and ledges teem, replete,
with mementos of maid, mother and crone.
Pain crusts on: salted wounds, walls and gelid moss
where teddies and barrettes dangle on bows.
Those lost appeal to Brigid, through her cross
in summer, fall, and through the winter’s snows.
A woman’s grief seeks relief at sacred stream
here all who mother come to pray and dream.
First Published in Eunoia August 19, 2015
A Girls Night Out
They were there, the girls,
each attired in appropriate finery,
clashing generational coifs,
varied displays of fine jewelry,
diamonds, gold bracelets, barrettes,
classic stiletto heels, sparkling sneakers
and a well worn, sensible black shoe.
Four beautiful women going out
and I the lucky man to attend them.
My daughter, beautiful, bronze skinned
excited to be chaperoned by dad,
My wife, radiant and proud to be
a part of this after dark quartet.
Moms, and Grandmas, fretting
over their children and
Great Grandma fretting over
her children’s, children’s, children.
Happy and proud, to share an evening
with each other, alone, together.
And I, the chaperone,
the sole invited guest.
John G. Lawless
5/31/2014
The cracker crisp Maine air
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.
Lace edged, bobby socks, red Keds,
barrettes, T-shirt and shorts;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, and Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony-tail girl;
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.
Horrific chore, it had to get rid of THE girl?
The boys gawk at her waiting.
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!
Up, up, with the upside down
omelet laying peckers.
Grande dames lance laces,
buttons and barrettes.
wing flap, feathers fly,
deep brown questioning eyes.
“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams,
spitting feathers above the din.
“Up stairs with the whole damn lot of them!”
The boys eye the girl
and with a tilt of her chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
she joins the troops
walking gingerly over
the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
And into the valley of peckers
strode she.......grin.
The cracker crisp Maine air
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.
Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony tail girl;
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.
Horrific chore, girl eraser, the boys gawk on.
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!
Up, up, with the upside down
omelet laying peckers.
Grande dames lance laces,
buttons and barrettes.
wing flap, feathers fly,
deep brown questioning eyes.
“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers
above the din. “Up stairs
with the whole damn lot of them!”
The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of her chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
they troop gingerly over the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
Barrettes and ribbons
Baby dolls and lace.
Ah my baby girl
Such a sweet face.
Tea parties and Teddy bears
Tree climbing, Let's race.
She might be the smallest
But she demands her own space.
Schoolwork and Boyfriends
A Friday night date.
Hey mama don't worry
I just might be out late.
Ruffles on prom gowns
A mind of her own.
I'm not sure I like this
My baby girl is grown!
One has a sleeping bag
One a knit hat
in pink with a pearly
heart button at that
One loves her poetry
One loves to sing
She hums with maturity
whispered age brings
Both love to dance
(they sure do love to dance)
They hold hands in waltzes
and butterfly prance
They twirl with no music
and laugh twinkle eyes
They tumble in heaps
of their sweetness surprise
Both are identical
Both are unique
Both hold my heart
trapped in moments they keep
One has dark curly hair
One in straight blond
Plastic barrettes
to the ball and beyond
One loves her somersaults
One loves her art
Both love each other
and never will part...