Old-fashioned parloring. Dreaming
of friendship with tea and cakes.
Feathered fascinators, blooming hats,
all dressed like a bountiful bouquet.
Chatterbox of lovely talk, liveliness
in eyes and lips. Excitement of togetherness.
A cozy of ladies is the best. Dress us up,
kiss us with tasty treats and sips of chai.
Such is the picture of yesteryear, placed
in the Southerner's space. Children pass by
with hardly a howdy-do. Little girls pleased
by a lit up screen, chattering at a box,
unable to size up the others by their character,
wearing ripped up jeans and too small shirts.
These girls don’t know the beauty of baking,
the blossoming of a glass teapot, the lumping
of sugar, an afternoon of nestling in proverbial
glow with sun streaming its shadows on the wall.
One girl glances up, her eyes fly off, like butterflies,
into the space behind the frame, the fragile glass
removed for this moment of time. Her great-grandma
smiles and weeps, holds hope for this progeny.
Suddenly, the girl of twelve, is whisked away in time.
She’s seated at a fresh set table, not questioning why.
dashed to pieces
on day of celebration.
shards of antiques
dishandled, cracked
and abused. pieces
of mother-daughter bond.
I can’t cry; tearbowl-eyes.
always collecting myself.
mom would say,
“Stop that, Kimmy…”
the glass shelf fell
couple days before
though Dad heard the crash
he didn’t glance at the curio
tea party event before the cock crows.
a royal wedding; mom with her daughters,
swag and fascinators, blossoming teacups
and saucers - great-grandma’s china
heart broken
in so many pieces
mom wanted me to have this collection
what would cause this eruption…
9/13/2021
I crawl into a cave called myself.
It’s dry and dusty, cobwebbed.
So afraid to be, alone in the dark,
“Who am I,” is my cry.
Then Trixie’s best friend comes along,*
like a cowgirl set out on a romantic adventure.
This changeling becomes a pirate or
a faerie tale...mingling with the deer and frogs.
but not too sweet, ‘cause she’s a spark plug.
She squeezes out a saturated rag of tears and snot,
for this cowgirl spots the forgotten one -
a little child who needs a hug,
and she has a way of embracing the child in me.
...and her poetry like taffy pulls,
twists in a delicious way, half-cocked.
I’ve learned from her to grab the stars and fly
as if Tinkerbell dusted me with rare pastels.
In my mind we’re dressed in
kicka$$ gowns and fascinators
merrily sipping sherry in
the garden of Make-Believe.
And by the way, I love my souper friends. Don’t feel left out.
So many touch me in so many ways. God bless you all.
And one last shout out to Caren Krutsinger!
The prince and princess met and fell in love,
A beautiful extravagant wedding guested.
She wore an exquisite gown of lace,
He wore a handsome uniform.
They were married in a cathedral,
With many honorable guests.,relatives and friends.
They rode in an elegant royal carriage,
Driven by noble horses and great steeds.
Like a fairy tale romance come true
We are looking for the fairy godmother with the wand.
The guests dressed very fashionably,
With elegant hats and fascinators.
A royal carriage took them back to the palace,
Accompanied by the queen's royal guard.
A storybook wedding come true.
How romantic and lovely is that.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
Men dressed in top hats and tails
Ladies in designer dresses and fascinators,
Bookmakers standing by the rails
Taking bets singles or accumulators,
Epsom downs, Derby day classic
The best of three year old equines,
Tensions heightened becoming dramatic,
Punters drinking champagne and wines,
Beautiful majestic Arabian athletes
Parade in front of the stand, so elegant,
Coats shining, muscular, nothing competes
Showing their professional temperament,
Jockeys in pristine silks so colourful,
Trainers and owners in the paddock,
Stall handlers loading horses so skilful,
Under starters orders ready to gallop,
Stalls open, up goes a roar from the crowd
One and half mile to the finish and victory,
Last furlong favourite in the lead, cries so loud,
Another exquisite young Colt makes history.
On June 3rd 2017
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