Long Talcum powder Poems

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Miss Cartolano


"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." Kahlil

Grade one, six years old, born to immigrant parents 
not a word of English did I speak, but I found compassion    
in a kind loving teacher who smelled like talcum powder   
and wore baby blue eyeshadow the color of the sky. 

She never married for the love of her life died at war  
each time she spoke of him her eyes shone like stars *
I will never forget that first day at school
when I began to cry, for I did not understand language. 
I walked down a corridor of oppression and gloom until  
she walked over to my desk and leaned into my ear,  
"Don't worry, I speak Italian too in case you get stuck." 
Its as if someone had just let me out of a dark suitcase. 
 
As I inhaled the scent of her talcum I suddenly knew,  
I would be fine.  Miss Cartolano was my first grade teacher,  
she was the one who taught me how to never give up.

Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2024
Form: Narrative


If You Have Courage Enough

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.

Talcum Powder Was Almost the Death of Me

talcum powder was almost the death of me
it was bathroom winter elegantly scented
blinded by the dusty seductress, and i ache to bathe again
then cocoa shea hit me like an odd sort of heat
there were so many bumpy roads and dead skin cells
there were so many speed traps and balled up and torn up tickets
what should have been clues instead came as covered comfort
yes, lou, there was, originally, always something there to remind me
now, as naked as the current version of my eyes, i put the unexpected generic on the recently renovated pedestal
yes, again, Your Highness, Mr. Radio, the Woman of today is still smarter than Man in every way
thank you, Sweets, i will now live longer
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member My Grandma Smelt of Peppermints

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.........

Portals Of My Mind

"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." Kahlil

Grade one, six years old, born to immigrant parents 
not a word of English did I speak, but I found compassion    
in a kind loving teacher who smelled like talcum powder   
and wore baby blue eyeshadow, the color of the sky. 
She never married for the love of her life died at war  
each time she spoke about him her eyes shone like stars *
I will never forget that first day at school
when I began to cry.  Not understanding the language
I walked a dark corridor of oppression and gloom. 
 
She walked over to my desk and leaned into my ear,  
don't worry I speak Italian too in case you get stuck. 
Its as if someone had just let me out of a dark suitcase. 
I inhaled the scent of her talcum and the color of her blues. 
Everything would be fine I knew as I walked through 
the portals of my mind unafraid, I began to trust and learn.  

Miss Cartolano was my first grade teacher. 
She was the one who taught me how to never give up.


The Ice Cream Lesson

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
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Fred Froogle Put Your Footle Out Your Mouth

PUT YOUR FOOTLE OUT YOUR MOUTH


                                    Here's Fred Froogle
                                        Bald headed
                                     Wears eyeglasses
                                  He used to wear boots
                                        Feet itch so
                                 Soaks feet in toilet bowl
                       Sprinkles talcum powder on his nose
                                  Drinks hot Coca Cola
                                     Sucks his heal
                           Spits out his foot before a meal
                                 Foot kiss ashy nights
                         Walks on shredded broken glass
                           Swollen breath toe jam dress
                                   Spitting toe nails
                                 Choking on my heals
                                Can't walk foot caught

                             Put your foot out your mouth

3/2/18
Written Words by James Edward Lee ©2018

I Feel So Settled In Your Presence

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....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Happiness Is A Distant Beach

I have a secret happy place that's deep inside my head,
It's where I like to visit every night when I'm in bed.
I travel there by boat, the sail flaps gently on the mast,
The ocean shines a million shades of blue, the sky is vast.
My happy place appears on the horizon far away.
I land my boat upon the beach, the palm trees sigh and sway.
The sand between my naked toes is talcum powder soft,
And seabirds greet me, singing loud while soaring up aloft.
I watch the ocean push its white-tipped waves toward the shore,
And listen as each wave collides with beach then is no more.
I'm quite alone on this small isle, nobody else around,
No Friday footprints in the sand to spoil what I have found.
My island paradise soothes each and every body ache,
And sweeps away the pain and angst the daytime strove to make
So I drift away, serene and calm, my body free of stress,
And off to sleep I travel filled with joy and happiness.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Loves Window

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

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