I am in my late seventies and was only educated up to primary school level so I have found 'fitting in' a struggle. I have never been able to master the art of spelling so writing was never an option for me until my late brother in law gave me a reconditioned computer with a spell check. He opened up a new world for me and I started to write poetry, at least I thinks it's poetry, it may be too primitive to go by that name but I would really like to know.
ENIGMATIC My thoughts drift aimlessly about me, a flotilla of small ships floating free foundering in a restless sea, flotsam and jetsom heading towards destruction, splintering beyond reconstruction lost without trace. 1958 Her voice still echoes down through the years sharp with accusations and confident in the knowledge of her right to be right. Discouraging misguided ambitions was her parental duty, knowing one's place was duly taught, firmly blocking rebellious thought. "Girl remember you're a servant don't step above your station you're working class - and you don't need an education just to marry and have babies" She taught us well by example, standing at the shallow stone sink to scour cheap Woolworths pans with red work roughened hands. "Reading's not good for you - it tires out the brain" She explained through the steam as she scrubbed worn greasy collars in the vain hope that they'd come clean. "Now mark my words well girl and heed to what I say you are what you are born to at the end of the day"
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
A LAMENT FOR CHILDHOOD (15/02/2019)
FAITH (WITHOUT HOPE OR CHARITY) (13/02/2019)
THIS SILVER PEARL (12/02/2019)
BY WAY OF EXPLANATION (11/02/2019)
FOR DARREN (10/02/2019)
- 2019 (1)
Viewed 55 times since 09 Feb 2019
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