Moth-eaten hag was a big battle-ax biddy
A hackneyed hag who wandered New York City
Grandam of the alley, a smelly aged fish wife
Aren’t you glad you did not have her kind of life?
Don’t be so hasty to judge, said my friend.
She had cats and companions to the very end.
The homeless took care of her, they loved her too.
Who is going to do the boo-hooing for you?
Gently does the westerly wind touch my face.
A loving maternal caress that does trace
The space that does thread round with each walking pace.
Reviving the flower within that I am
With grace, in an unblemished vase, called grandam.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.