war stories
she cooked for an army because she had one
yours, mine, ours and this bunch had nothing
in common with the bradys
mostly i remember white uniforms,
being paid a quarter to rub wintergreen
on the hot, swollen feet of a nurse
and i could never imagine her dancing
past the faux-wood metal shelf
filled with knick knacks i was forever
in danger of breaking all mingled with
the smell of starch and the best
molasses cookies ever made
i rubbed pink lotion and collected
my coin but back then
i didn’t know all the stories
didn’t know there was more to be told
in the world my mother grew up in
fairy tales lived in a bottle and evil
slept in the corner one eye open
shhhhh, be careful not to wake him be good be good
except good was never good enough
and in the end the deepest scars
smelled like wintergreen and antiseptic
fingers worked to the bone never quite
disguise enough for a flawed heart
not made of gold not made of love
not made of anything but broken
and broken begets broken
fosters heartbreak and failure
and i like to think intentions were good
i like to think survival shouldn’t mean
damaged children but all i know are stories
and all i have are a teapot and a photo
of a hard-working woman who cooked for
an army because that’s what she had
but the soldiers she raised needed so much more
than the purple hearts they received
June 2nd, 2012 at 10:05 am
powerful & beautiful
June 2nd, 2012 at 10:20 am
I know the black and blue, the purple of the broken heart, the war stories kept deep, and never shared until it was too late. War is hell, and this was the war of many women. Thank you for the telling of it.
June 2nd, 2012 at 10:21 am
in which i look for words to say i read this and find nothing. you made me cry. xoxo
June 2nd, 2012 at 10:22 am
very good, and yes, sad. Loved this stanza:
‘in the world my mother grew up in
fairy tales lived in a bottle and evil
slept in the corner one eye open’
excellent
June 2nd, 2012 at 11:16 am
So so POWERFUL!
June 2nd, 2012 at 12:45 pm
Heartbreaking, but beautiful. And very, very powerful.
June 2nd, 2012 at 3:05 pm
in the world my mother grew up in
fairy tales lived in a bottle and evil
slept in the corner one eye open
ugh…hard verse that…and the one after being careful to be good…what a stress filled life…and never being good enough….really nice story telling and setting the scene in the opening as well….
June 2nd, 2012 at 3:15 pm
oh wow..that’s powerful stuff..not at all easy…very sensitively written… fav lines were..
in the world my mother grew up in
fairy tales lived in a bottle and evil
slept in the corner one eye open…
June 2nd, 2012 at 3:30 pm
I don’t know where you mined the memories from which this narrative was extracted, but every detail rings true, and so underpins the power of the poem.
June 2nd, 2012 at 3:31 pm
Soooo good…..loving the narrative style- what started off as a portrait of your grandmother turned into something else quite fascninating- my take on it (and keep in mind I have a history of completely missing the point) but this spoke about a woman who spent her time caring for the wounded….when in reality- it is those closest at home who are wounded and need care…. War in the hospital….war at home….damn, I love this…
June 2nd, 2012 at 4:19 pm
Lovely face!
We do tend to forget that women went to war too. Maybe not to the front but, (many) still did whatever they could do to help out. This is very powerful writing, deeply moving and very image filled. Fabulous write!
June 2nd, 2012 at 4:53 pm
Such a poignant write. Must have been heart breaking to be left for years like most of these women were. You wrote it so eloquently with bravery.
June 2nd, 2012 at 5:02 pm
This is a powerful trip back through the looking glass of who we are and what made us that way–I have a very hard time writing about these things–you do a very fine job with one woman’s personal history and how it affected those around her, made real, almost too real in those last few stanzas. Fine writing.
June 2nd, 2012 at 5:23 pm
great story telling, i was swept up in time and place, very well done
June 2nd, 2012 at 5:25 pm
I hope the ‘average jo’ is tongue in cheek because this is no average poem. You take us through quite a gamut of emotions. I realised my face was changing from line to line, as I read. I love the poem. As strong as it is, it is subtle; it caught me unawares at a couple of points, yet the direction the poem went felt right, read right. Thank you for this.
June 2nd, 2012 at 5:27 pm
Love it
June 2nd, 2012 at 5:39 pm
Lovely retelling..I specially like hard working woman’s cooking for the army, but they needed more than just purple medals ~ Enjoyed this ~
http://a-sweetlust.blogspot.ca/2012/06/working-for-price.html
June 2nd, 2012 at 6:43 pm
I can relate. It’s funny b/c my husband and I were just talking about how “unavailable” my father was.
June 2nd, 2012 at 7:30 pm
Oh I really really enjoyed this, loved the vintage element in the beginning and then the family patterns playing out. I am super tired tonight and was at risk of doing a quick skim read but you quickly pulled me in and kept me reading, and the I didn’t want it to end, well done, awesome.
June 2nd, 2012 at 9:08 pm
This captured me from the very beginning and I was submerged in your story deeply and quickly this is masterfully wrought!
June 2nd, 2012 at 9:33 pm
Beautiful and poignant writing. Wow!
June 2nd, 2012 at 10:08 pm
like Vanessa, i am tired tonight. words must be reread to get the full impact. again, i read. my eyes widened, my breath slowed, my eyes filled with tears.
‘fingers worked to the bone never quite
disguise enough for a flawed heart
not made of gold not made of love
not made of anything but broken’
i think i will just cry a while, for all of us.
in fondest. tilda
June 2nd, 2012 at 11:26 pm
Wow. So moving, a real life capture of raw true emotion, shared so very well. Much skill displayed here. I liked it twice and gonna read it again later tonight. This is a keeper.
June 3rd, 2012 at 4:43 am
fingers worked to the bone never quite
disguise enough for a flawed heart
Your poem is full of passages like this where the bell of truth rings loud and clear.
June 3rd, 2012 at 6:59 am
Wow, this is really striking. “Damaged begets damaged”…ain’t it the truth. I, too, like to think that survival shouldn’t mean damaged children, but perhaps it often does.
The interpolation of nursing and wartime with emotional wounds here is so skillfully done and such an inspired idea. I’m glad I got the opportunity to read this.
June 3rd, 2012 at 7:22 am
Wonderful write! Great story with a sense of nostalgia and pride mixed togather. The line about working your fingers to the bone remonds me of a line in an old song; “work your fingers to the bone, what do you get? Bony fingers!”
Enjoyed this poem very much!
June 3rd, 2012 at 10:48 am
[…] http://www.mrsmediocrity.com – Today, 10:48 AM […]
June 3rd, 2012 at 10:50 am
Powerful … This is a goose bump reads that will linger long. Fantastic!
June 3rd, 2012 at 12:35 pm
great descriptives and then the end is so so sad
Sonnet 24
June 3rd, 2012 at 12:58 pm
This is wonderful. Every parent, especially we single parents, every caregiver will feel this poem to the bottom of their tired feet. Thank you for sharing, it’s superb!
June 3rd, 2012 at 1:07 pm
My word, this is beautiful!
June 3rd, 2012 at 3:47 pm
How you do this, I have no idea for I don’t have the gift of weaving words like you do. But I’m glad you do it. Wonderful.
June 3rd, 2012 at 4:20 pm
Very Very powerful piece! It brought tears to my eyes as I thought about my own Mum and how amazing Mothers can be! Love it!
June 3rd, 2012 at 4:26 pm
Hold on! – Sorry – I have just re read it and I think I totally missed the point! So powerful, and actually very sad. Beautifully written piece!
June 3rd, 2012 at 9:58 pm
so truthful and tragic
and hauntingly beautiful.
-Jennifer
June 4th, 2012 at 3:39 am
I really like this poem, but it scared the crap out of me! I got physically uncomfortable reading it..that’s some good writing! I love to start writing something and have it take me somewhere unexpected.
June 4th, 2012 at 4:15 am
Marvellous – love the picture love the poem
June 4th, 2012 at 1:55 pm
Intense and captivating.
June 5th, 2012 at 8:03 pm
Powerful, intense, tragic. Well done!