Sunday, April 27, 2014

PAD - Day 27 - Monster Poem


in years to yet become they
would remember that day -
the girl cousins sat beading
in a small circle on the swept
wooden porch beside the empty
rocking chairs stringing from
a pile between them – picking
a few colored bits of glass at a time
the uncles, off to the far end,
sat and stood on, and against, the railing
with a little chew -munching silently,
with flat faces -even the youngest uncle
who just last night before it all, was finally
called out as he palmed a cheat card in the
dining room and would not leave the game
until they folded the table and the chairs and
walked off refusing to speak about it again
the aunts were thought to be in the wide
white channel of the kitchen, a few at the sink
washing fruit, others at the counter cutting
what would be bright salad served “later.”
But they weren’t –
They had untied their aprons and through
wavy glass watched their mother’s apple
blossom tree where their only son, a small
bright boy of nearly eight scrabbled himself
like a land-locked crab up into a bower of
white petals and picked a lapful of small
perfect green apples - just as a sigh ran from
Mother’s bedroom above and down the steps
on light slippered feet just ahead of the beastly
thing lumbering behind her, as one, they heard
that lyric laugh of their childhood, and knew
without need of trudging up the stairs to stare with
reddened eyes at her husk, that she had outrun the
pinchers of the bulging eyed Cancer crab –
a wafted wisp of her lilac scent lingering
about them all in a forever embrace as
the kitchen screen door slammed gently,
lovingly, firmly closed behind her irrevocable
release into the soft summer wind  



  1. Replies
    1. This was the first poem written for the PAD prompt this morning...

      My Monster

      lived somewhere beneath
      my breastbone cradled
      within the arms of my
      ribs beneath the still
      smooth flat skin cool
      in the predawn light
      that chilled my heart
      and felt it shift in sleep
      as I slipped under tight
      covers waited with short
      breaths for sunlight

  2. Crabbing..for answers maybe? What a rich and expansive scene..much more buried underneath than you can appreciate in one here's for round two!

    1. Oh Jae Rose - thank you so very very much - I am more than delighted that you enjoyed enough to consider reading again :)

  3. Aww so very very much appreciated. What a wonderful comment :)

  4. A lot of images created here also a feel of walking down memory lane. Nice PKP

  5. The image of the scrabbling boy shines vivid. This is a lovely piece.

  6. Vivid and powerful, as always, Pearl... love the line breaks.

  7. this is beautiful… so tender… so real… my heart was beating rhythmically with every word.

  8. You painted this scene so vividly, I was right the little boy in the tree......and felt the awe as the mother's spirit was released into "the soft summer wind". Beautiful, Pearl!

  9. So many vivid images layered one atop another that bring your reader into the fold of the experience.


  10. This is lovely. She visited one last time and left on the soft summer wind. Delightful!

  11. A little boy with apples.. can it be better.. still the scenery with all the relatives so realistic it's vivid like a dream

  12. Intense write Pearl - very enjoyable to read - thank you... With Best Wishes Scott

  13. Beautiful words,thoughtfully written.

  14. Reading so reminded me about the scary stories in the childhood we could tell to each other at night...very cool!

  15. Always a treat to stop by and read your blog :-)