NPM19 - Day 10 - More Visiting

            Continuing with ideas from the book. This time, "Special Characters".

             Remember to share:

Tabatha Yeatts has created a link to poems teachers and librarians can print for poetry month, titled "Poetry in The Halls". I'm grateful to be one of the poets!

Jama Rattigan has a post HERE with many poets' goals for April.

The Progressive Poem schedule can be found on the right!

Being-A-Lady Lessons

On special sunny afternoons,

I was invited to tea with Mrs. Mueller,

our across-the-street neighbor.

She kept a vegetable garden

rimmed with all manner of flowers.

When I was old enough, perhaps six,

we began having tea times, with cake always

then later in the season cucumber slices, 

and berries. 

I dressed up for this special invitation

and walked across the street

all by myself.

I learned to say “How do, Mrs. Mueller?” 

“Thank you for inviting me,” and 

“The cake is delicious this afternoon.”

We did not play games, but held

polite conversations. 

She asked after the family,

and I asked after hers.

We strolled among the flowers

while she taught me the names,

and allowed me to pick a few

to take to my mother.

Growing up means different kinds

of learning. 

Linda Baie © 

April Poetry Month - Day 9 - Special Characters

            Continuing with ideas from the book. This time, "Special Characters".

             Remember to share:

Tabatha Yeatts has created a link to poems teachers and librarians can print for poetry month, titled "Poetry in The Halls". I'm grateful to be one of the poets!

Jama Rattigan has a post HERE with many poets' goals for April.

The Progressive Poem schedule can be found on the right!

           You may notice that I’m turning pages of a scrapbook in my mind, created of my time with grandparents, my early years in a small town. Most days of summer weather we really were shooed outside to mind our own business while the grown-ups minded theirs. I was a town kid and when two friends, Gary or Suzy, were gone, I read a lot or I visited neighbors. I wonder how many times kids today wander around looking for someone sitting on a porch to visit?  

            Porch Visiting

Her name is Lizzie Weimer, an old lady

down the street who sat the hours away

on her sagging front porch.

The weeds were winning the war in

the front yard, winding up and around 

the porch post. Paint peeled, gutters

held only by a pin or three.

Her hair was pushed back by a pin or three, too,

into a straggly bun.

I sat and helped her snap beans or shuck corn;

she gave me peeled potato pieces for a snack.

She told stories of the easiness of town living

compared to when she was my age,

the only girl, kept busy milking the cows,

washing the clothes of the men, 

with filthy stinking overalls(her words).

She’d laugh, say “Now, I’m here in town,

living a life of ease. Now, they’re gone.”

But then, she’d cry into her hankie.

I sat on other front porches visiting,

but learned more from Lizzie than anyone.

She showed me what I saw didn’t always

show deep-down truth.

Linda Baie ©