She is doilies, lace and class
I am leather, oak and brass
But when she slips her hand in mine
Together, we are gold refined.
May day baskets
Created with crisp doilies
Designed by excited giggling children
Filled with wrapped candies and popcorn
Left on porches
Hear those running feet?
The best part is not being caught after you ring the doorbell
May first
May day
A childhood tradition that puts a smile on my face
January around the corner
Once again
I blink my eyes
It has been replaced by February
Will I still be here by March?
Is this my last summer?
I am not getting younger
There is no fountain of youth
My classmates are dying off daily
Hourly, every minute
Of course they are! I tell my twin sister
This is normal; we are 72 years
February, the month of valentines
I decorate my box with stickers and lace doilies
Wise enough to enjoy it
Specially caught shells and pearls,
still lace is woven with worn fingers.
The anointed ten, working together,
crochet a web of intricate design.
Shells on the sandy shelf satisfy,
but doilies and tablecloths linger.
For long in darkness and flickering,
scented candles and burgundy wine.
Pearls of buttons and bows preen,
but a veil of mantilla lace whispers.
The free flow of digits and knuckles -
gentle, well-versed - her palm’s a vine.
Round and round, her wrists writhe,
breath’s aligned within the scriptures.
I collect the ingredients to make a fine valentines box
lacy white paper doilies, silver gummy stars, vintage valentines
a crisp new Sketchers Box in pristine shape
Elmer’s glue, a stapler, markers and glitter
Let’s make your valentines box, I say to my granddaughter
She is nine; she shows me that she has a virtual box
Her classmates send her electronic valentines
“it’s the way we do it now, grandma”.
I am horrified.
I really want to make a vintage valentines day box.
She agrees, and we make it together.
She is kind, and pretends she will use it someday.
To satisfy her grandma.
How many more slippers and mittens can Elvira knit?
This was asked by her mother who was throwing a fit.
She wanted to be a grandma, so wanted Elvira to get with it.
But Elvira was now knitting hats for her slippers, the little chit.
Isn’t she interested in men? Her mother asked, as she paused to sit.
“Doubtful,” answered her sisters. “All she wants to do is knit.”
“If she doesn’t come through for me, you will have to commit.
They were teenagers who laughed like loons, thinking about it.
Elvira kept knitting, ignoring her mother who was a nit-wit.
She was only nineteen-years-old, she was not in a hurry, a bit.
She was now making chair doilies, for every chair where one could fit.
She said to her worried sisters “don’t worry about it.”
salt shakers galore
table doilies silverware
cookie cutters plates
As I sit and gaze outside by the open door,
Favourite classic poised once more,
Pride and Prejudice, the Bennetts galore,
O’ comforts of wealth, I wish for no more.
Today,
I entered the boudoir with passion and flair,
Chose the coveted scarf draped over my chair,
Chose the finest silk to decorate my hair,
The mirror warned, “please do take care.”
Cinderella, adorned in purple silk apparel,
Who I am now, who can possibly tell,
As the comfort of silk ordains my seat,
With ivory silken slippers on calloused feet.
The Sun,
illuminates dust circling above my feelings,
Of servitude that cannot float above ornate ceilings,
I call to the maidservant for afternoon tea,
Served on the best China and doilies filigree.
Suddenly, the old Grandfather clock strikes four,
My dreams crumble to dust and float out of the door,
Alas! My mistress will return in an hour, maybe two,
And I still have so much work to do.
160 words
Painting prompted Poetry Contest
Date: 24/10/22
Sponsor: Lisa YY
There is a book
That only the dead may know
Displaying man's deeds
For LOVE to show
Many tales are written
Upon its pages
By those who call themselves
Philosophers, sages
Just because its recorded
Doesn't make it so
Even if the powerful
Presents a traceable flow
From the beginning to end
Pages keep being added
Like grandma's doilies
History has tatted
The Book of Life
Records the WORD spoken
The Binding is the thread
Interwoven and broken
Nothing of fear
Can ever come near
This sacred book
No authority
Or stolen power
Can come to look
...without an invitation
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-16-2022
Miss Gladys befriended me at church
Invited me to her house for rose tea
Her table was exquisitely set with lace and doilies
Embroidered napkins, and beautiful flowers
She put out the most gorgeous peacock tea cups
I had no idea how to sip between peacock’s head and tail.
Miss Gladys laughed at my consternation
Brought out her every day cups with a tray of cookies
I was immensely relieved
Back in the day we had a maypole on May Day
We created May baskets out of doilies and construction paper
I loved adding bits of ribbon, aluminum foil and glitter.
We decorated them like Valentines boxes.
Filled them with tiny candies popcorn and violets.
It was fantastically fabulous, and I loved it!
Why did I have maypoles and May baskets?
Was it because I lived in a small town? Was it because of my mother?
Was it because we knew all of our neighbors back in the day?
I close my eyes and dream of winters so pretty that even angels sigh at the scene
cascading snowflakes softly falling, in shapes of doilies and paper ruffle dollies
Winter hats and muffle mitts of red, snowman whispers as red sled rides go by
carnival rides and children full of chide, what a wonderful world of white...
A winter scent of magic, white deer and shadowed antlers of incandescent wood
log cabins with fireplaces and verandas with copper foot welcome matts, come in
make yourself comfortable while the kettle roars to life, tea toddler or coffee lover?
Enter into my little jovial cottage glory and stay a while.
Very Fancy Doilies... or Very Fresh Dill;
An abridged list... (it's longer, still!) --
Not sure yet if I want to list every single VFD;
It'd have to be complete-- or rhyme cleverly?
Reading "The Series of Unfortunate Events"...
I've seen so much silliness and extravagance!
It'd be neat to learn "Verse Fluctuation Declaration!" :O
creating new secret notes, with a little concentration! :)
Simply miss-spell a word, and thus the reader knows --
which letters to collect & compile to see how it all goes!
lavender umbrellas
floral teacups
fancy china plates
muffled conversations
dainty berry scones
crisp white doilies
shy looks
wedge of brie
cucumber sandwiches
tiny titters
chocolate truffles
crisp linen tablecloths
caramel lattes
fragrance of the gods
Paris Cafe
Haiku of this storm
(2/10/21, for Jim)
February ice fear
forecasts no motion —
a tear starts its fall
pup’s eyes plead
with her legs splayed —
deck wood freezes worst
wintry front
pushing through outside
my winter body lullaby
poems come
invading sleep
my tongue forgets how to speak
snow clouds break
deafening silence
my sighs echo
all frozen
trees creaking in winds
the stars do not know
snow plays,
today ice threatened—
bird feeder untouched
white lace from trees
white doilies cover the ground
these prayers, these dreams
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(c) sally young eslinger2/10/21
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