Best Talcum Powder Poems
Love feels like it has gone far away
She used to exist everywhere it seems
Now she hides in fear of being used up or let down
Most now, don’t even remember what she feels like
I remember long ago
Love used to have big bright colors
lightening bugs would soar through the night sky
with dancing white beams that glowed in the dark
four leaf clovers would spring from green pines of grass
but would ever elude being found and plucked
by those wanting a taste of its Irish good luck
floral beach balls and pink rubber kick balls were the center of summers delight
camp fire girls adorned navy blue vests and strutted proudly holding red white and blue flags down main street on Memorial Day
lazy polka dot burnt orange black lady bugs
would sleep under the sun
waiting to be scooped up
each child hoping to find the lady
with the most dots
to win the game
cotton candy colored May Day dances held in the public-school yard always on the hottest and sunniest day of the year
each student excited about dressing up in colorful garbs from different cultures around the world
Love was innocent then...
Love had the best aromas too
tide detergent, vanilla extract
talcum powder, wonder bread
sweet potato pie
hot dogs on toasted rolls at the public pool
Chanel #5 on Church Sundays
lots of Chanel #5
Love had the most wonderful sounds
the rustle of fall leaves under your feet
the crunch of plastic sofa covers at grandma’s house
sitting on the porch listening to night crickets on dad’s lap
Maybe love is actually still here
Waiting for us to love her back
She has not been treated well lately
I hope that she will give us all another chance
And come back soon
Hopefully this time
She will stay
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
Her kitchen of boiling bacon,
and margarine - it was always steamy
and 'welcomingly' warm.
The bathroom, off the kitchen,
smelt of carbolic soap, and a layer
of talcum powder dusted the cupboards
a reminder of its liberal use.
The garden, with a greenhouse,
had a glorious array of pinks
and Sweet Williams - it was always summer:
no winters here, always sunny, as I recall.....
The old corrugated air-raid shelter,
above ground now, was a haven
for childhood, childish games.
It smelt of paraffin from the heater.
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
She would lick her hanky and
wipe my mouth if it was sticky
from the gingerbread she'd made.
My Grandma always looked the same,
never younger, never older:-
her memory etched in my cerebral
photo frame as I remember her ........
smelling of peppermints,
fingers deformed with crippling arthritis,
but smiling, wiping mouths, cooking,
or sitting in her little garden in a floral dress.....
She's been gone for thirty years now,
but still I see her there.
I see the tissue filled pockets in her
'pinny'and the pin-curls in her hair.
Yes, my Grandma smelt of peppermints.........
A slight hint of consternation was in her voice,
“Why did you tell those people I’m deaf and dumb?”
“I never said you were deaf, my Dear.”
She laughed, but I kinda felt like a bum.
Hell. It was just a joke.
One evening, she asked, “Will you love me if I get chubby?”
I responded, “Of course I still love you.
It would take much more than pounds and cellulite
To make me fall out of love…it’s true.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
“Would you remarry if I die before you?” she asked.
I said, “No…probably not…I’ve been spoiled by you.”
“But you’ve been a great husband. I think you should.”
“Whatever happens, happens is the best I can do.”
“If you remarried, would you play golf with your new wife?
And would you let her use my clubs?” she demanded.
I calmly smiled and said, “Your clubs are safe.
You see, my Dear…she’s left handed.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
Then, she whined and whined about her butt.
I responded, “Want to knock some inches off that ass?
It may sound strange, but I heard it works….
Rinse all your panties in Slim Fast.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
The next day, I readied for work, took ‘undies’ from my drawer.
They were engulfed in a fog of white, why I didn’t know.
So, I asked, “Honey! Why did you put talcum powder on my shorts?”
She slyly smiled, “That’s not talcum powder. That’s Miracle Gro.”
Hell. It was just a joke....I guess.
So, what is my wife’s most endearing feature?
Her sense of humor.... there’s no doubt.
Always a smile where angst or anger might have been,
A smile I never want to be without.
I saw the Four Horsemen -
the famous apocalypse guys.
They rode silently past neatly folded laundry,
They approached me in silence,
their breathe a rye and meadow wind.
Each of them in turn,
gliding ghostlike past where I sat,
watching steam on the mirror
grow cold.
War had no use for me,
past my prime, bum knee.
Not even as cannon fodder.
Famine had little to work with,
I had known hunger, want, poverty,
nothing he had could scare me.
Pestilence likewise dismissed me out of turn,
for which I’ll be forever grateful,
probably too sedentary to spread the touch.
And Death, well, we all must dance,
but today is not the day, now not the hour,
Death merely bid me good day.
And then they were gone, their vacancy tangible,
while I decided to look up embolisms or strokes,
trying to close this doorway into myself.
Until I saw the tracks in the talcum powder,
heard the soft whicker of horse,
and tasted their life on my tongue.
I can't remember if the sun was shining
Or if the clouds looked down on me as I stood
A child of ten standing on a window sill
Whispering to himself he should
It started shortly after I woke
Distant where the trigger was
I'm guessing just the overflow
of everything they did and said
Finally ground down by all around
And though I'd fought for years
Death becomes a friend
When she's the only one there for you
Knowing I would soon be in the playground
Where no nurse could make better the names they cruelled
Knowing my mothers boyfriend was down stairs
Waiting for his latest vile whim to unfold
My mind consumed by every name called
I was not the same they proved
Alone in my crowded thoughts
T o death I looked for belonging
As I dressed my imagination dreamt
What could happen today?
Exploding into the unknown
My strength rapidly dissolved
I could see no directions
that didn't lead to another painful day
As my journey to the end begun
All they told me loading the gun
All that made me different from
Pushing me closer and closer to the edge of no return
In front of the mirror I stood
Cut off my curly hair
No longer the golliwog
That their taunts would compare
I covered my skin in talcum powder
As I didn't want to be
That horrible thick coon
he always called me.
My hair a mess
My colour unmasked
Tired, Frightened, alone,
I decided enough, enough
Standing on the window sill
The last bastion for survival colliding inside
As the exhausted wishes to hang on
Were overcome by the desperation to escape this hollow excuse for life
No single tear a cry for help
As id learnt they choose not to hear
I urge myself towards an end to the hurt
where the crying would clear
As I engulf my mind in my final moments
And call for death to take my hand
From across the road a woman called
To this day she probably doesn't know she saved my life
Tears unintentionally
Created rivers down talcum powdered cheeks
But my mother didn't laugh
when she found me
I guess that's where you'd expect everything to be made right
I guess that's where I learnt to no longer believe
Through every promising word in the wake of what could
They didn't do what they should
i feel so settled in your presence
it seems so definitively calm here
i want to go on excursions never experienced with you and just discover
once upon a time i was a lonely soul yearning for any type of communication
i remember the footprints in the dust at every corner that had the scent of stale talcum powder
i remember the cable fluctuating between being off and on every other another
i remember listening to my old walkman under a few layers of cover when the power was cut off on a very cold day in winter
i recall sitting in the dark of my dusty, cobwebbed apartment letting the streetlight conceal the truth of my loneliness
i recall the draft coming into the screen in the living room and becoming painfully dizzy from daydreaming
i heard creaks on the stair steps and crackling in the walls
even introverted the darkness has a thousand eyes to truly see
even in hiding i cannot hide the from the strong stance stare of the obvious
knowing this, i decide to take a chance to makes bells ring like the freedom flapping of each wing....
....i feel so settled in your presence
it seems so definitively calm here
i want to go on excursions never experienced with you and just discover....
Dimpled cheeks tearless eyes
pouting lips beguiling smile
the scent of talcum powder blue
breath as fresh as the morning dew.
Tiny hands open up to light
warm and soft a baby's eyes
a single curl around fingers mother twirls
and wonders at this mystery untold.
Blessed is one who receives this gift
a child a love so tender and rich
filling hearts with wonder and joy
of fathers and mothers___be it girl or boy
Vigus and I were childhood buddies
who ventured to make some ice cream
It was to be our special creation
that would be a dish most supreme
We got some sand from the sand heap
and sifted it with a fine mesh wire
to give the dish a fine consistency
so its quality would be superior
We crumbled up some dried dirt
and pounded it with a hammer
then sifted it with the wire mesh
and made chocolate talcum powder
We mixed these ingredients in a tin
using a piece of stick as a stirrer
and blended them for quite a while
until there was a uniform texture
Vigus continued the stirring
while I added the water
until the mix was nice and firm
and chocolate brown in colour
Now who would taste it first
we both said to each other
After thinking for a while I said
I believe I have the answer
I said let's ask Greedy Mackie
who was quite a beggar
always sponging off our snacks
in a very shameless manner
We asked Mackie to join us
and I got a piece of candy
Vigus stirred it in the mix
in the full view of Mackie
While Vigus stirred in the candy
We raved how sweet the dish would be
Then we asked who would taste it first
saying that person would be lucky
I suppose Mackie's thoughts
could only focus on the candy
When we asked the question
he raised his hand and cried "ME"
We gave him a spoonful of the dish
which he put it in his mouth greedily
Vigus and I watched most intensely
to see what his reaction would be
Mackie bolted for the water tap
spitting most profusely
I guess he learned a lesson that day
that he should not be so greedy
Vigus, Mackie and I were about 7 years old
The sounds of the pipes and drums skirled still in my ears. I knew it was the kind of music that brought him to his knees in tears. "Sandwich?" "Sausage Roll?" Oh here we go again, that nosey little woman who lives at number ten.
Swishing by in her twin set and pearls, butter wouldn't melt but I can smell the mixture of sweat and talcum powder. White dust covering the floor of my bathroom a memory I have from many years before.
"Where was he when it happened?" "I didn't know he was ill". Well they know now don't they, my head still in a whirl. Funerals are such a strange occasion where we are all nice to those we've never kept in touch with for years, ok, so maybe that has been my fault, I do keep myself to myself a lot.
I liked him you know, he was that man with the highly polished shoes, back straight, shirt and tie and fond of wearing blues. Mysterious at times he was, he struck me as being deep. Fought in wars he did, well, so I do believe. Not many here for him and him a war hero too. Far too many new people in the street, he was known by very few.
That’s them, drinks out now, forget about the tea. The War Hero’s son is on a spending spree. Whisky, gin and vodka, the bowling club members are here, glasses are chinking and they’ve already had their beer. “He had a good turnout” “He’s at peace now and free” but all I keep thinking is what about me.
What’s this life all about? Ok sometimes it’s sad but then again when I am out with my pals it can be happy a little bit mad. “Swing yer tights” was our catch phrase when dancing on the disco floor. Screaming at the disc jockey to play that Abba song just one time more. Black, it’s black everywhere, is that what it’s going to be, all I can think right now is what about me.
What about me? Who will turn up at the crematorium door? What next for me, you know this funeral tea brings it all out in me. Makes me think, even if I have to put up with Mrs Tanner's stink. I've got it! Yes! Yes! A brilliant idea!
It is, it is. I am going to leave instructions loud and clear. My headstone - it should read:
Been there
Done it
Got the headstone
For I’ve been here before.
I was sitting in my
small cottage with
a cot and a chair
On name of furniture.
The little window was
my amazing friend
Because it gave me
Chance to peep through.
The next window panes
Always welcomes eyes
A girl Motee(fat) was forcing
mirror to declare herself princess.
A coat of talcum powder
followed by sun cream lotion,
all artificial things to fool girls
market produced for beauty.
Nice fragrance to add ghee in fire
From left to right, feet to head
examined herself but not satisfied
Once I dare to tell her truth hard.
Beauty lies in our self not
in things that used by you
Wrestler brothers bad memories
Recalled ,got on first they met.
If you have courage enough
to tell her once Motee
got rewards fractures on body
Then why not dare my buddy.
Cresting the rise, a glare in his eyes.
Squinting as sharp shards of sun
reflect off the river.
His gloved hand instinctively shadows his face.
Dust in the wind, talcum powder thin
coating, caressing, coloring
grass, leaves, cowboys and cattle
all shades of sepia and cocoa brown.
The river is low, the current slow.
A turtle shell mound of mud, mid-stream,
rutted by thousands of hooves.
Punchers pause, stirrup deep,
the Cimarron soaking up through their souls.
Memories flood without warning
just like this river,
Swollen and swift, it sends cattle
crashing, thrashing, slashing.
The kid, that’s all anyone knew him as, just “The Kid”,
hung up under his longhorn-punctured pony,
was buried amidst those sycamores.
He never did see the Kansas plains.
Shifting in his saddle, blinking away the vision,
the rider’s breath catches in his chest.
A daydream? Mirage?
Or shadows of the past, lingering,
where once they crossed the Cimarron on the Chisholm Trail?
Mopping the dust from his forehead, he rides on,
leaving the past to itself.
Jeff Hildebrandt © 2005
Fields on hills a patchwork of colour Green gold rice barley prairies
The sun filtering through the lace curtains danced on the tabletop
The cats unblinking yellow eyes exuded an air of quiet confidence
Square cut emerald ring perfectly bobbed red hair Table untouched
Spanish shawl embroidered in red blue+gold Freshly baked cakes
Incredible dishes innovative old receipes delightful establishment
Lavender, rose, aromatic coffee, talcum powder with a hint of lemon
The Chef tradition of long robes High headwear and flowing habits
Overhead speakers piped the singing of the sacred maidens songs
Wavy greying hair Family of baby ducklings Dying mans wishes
The air moist and heavy with sweet living scents of the woody forest
Lions leopards diamond pythons toucans cooed sidled and preened
Snap, Crackle and Pop
I woke up this morning loving you and it was all Marshmallow and Jalapeño
Such a fine day... such a gloriously feather duster sort of day
For loving you
And feeling like everything is made of Christmas tinsel
There's a scatter of sequins in my heart
Not like stars but rather giant spotlights
But they're made of trampolines and the bouncy giddy wobbly
Better for the cup of coffee poings itself
A delirious twang.
Such Madorexable dreams I had !
Phew !
I didn't know that swimming through champagne cream could feel like that
Ah, but its a splendiferous breakfast
A mango monsoon of loving you
A sweet lilac talcum powder of a dawn giggling behind the curtains drawn
I love to hear you giggle
A temptingly ticklish rock n roll
An orchestrated HOLY TOMATO !
Such a finesse of total disarray
Watch out honey knees I'm heading your way
With a whole sloppy bowl of caramel love
and I want to spill it all on your lips
you'll be my replacement for cornflakes
The long corridors of our University
Spring is in the air Crimson flushed
Reflect fresher happier memories
Sewing table Black and white photo
Beam of sunlight back high window
Cocktails seem much nicer than tea
Stimulating contacts literary ambition
Beautiful hair thick strong catching
the sun bringing the gold out in it.
Scent of honeysuckle contentment
Feeding chickens playing with kitten
Wicker basket full of coloured wool
Lovely bunch of flowers Pink ribbon
Talcum powder Making tea together
Icing buns Christmas crackers Hats
I rolled over in bed last night
Nothing stopped me on my way
When I grabbed the other pillow
No other head made it stay
I tugged at the sheets
And they easily came loose
I hoped it was a dream
But I knew it was the truth
I took a nice long, hot shower
No need to conserve the hot water
I knew no one would complain
If I used the talcum powder that I bought her
There was no fighting
For a position in front of the mirror
I didn’t wipe the steam away
I didn’t want to see any clearer
Empty hangers hung in the closet
The shoe tree had shed its leaves
No one was there to guilt me into
Ironing the wrinkles out of my sleeves
I missed the disgusting smell of coffee
While sipping my orange juice
There was no one there to straighten up my tie
So it just hung around my neck loose
There was no haggling over the paper
That I didn’t feel much like reading
All for the want of two small words
I didn’t use to stop the bleeding
You waited a long time for me to say them
They just wouldn’t work their way out
Now only echoes return the words to me
When, “I’m sorry”, I finally shout