Series of Five Poems by my Mom

 

 

Entry 5

I know something about you

by Donna LaFollette

I know something about you –
I know your stomach growled last night
Because the refrigerator was bare.
I know the frozen dinner you fixed
that Monday night
You ate with Homer Simpson
While cross-legged on the floor

 

I know something about your –
I know you had a story to tell
And no one was there.
I know you tucked yourself in bed
And Jumped at imagined, lurking dangers.

I know something about you –
I know you let yourself in the door
And thought of excused for not doing math.
I know you were alone.
No on asked, “Sweetie, how was School?”

 

I know something about you –
I know you’re bruised
And Ache at times.
I know you’ve helped a parent stumble into bed
And hoped this drunk wouldn’t awaken.

 

I know something about your –
But I don’t know what to do.
I teach you ‘i’ before ‘e’

 

 

 

Series of Five Poems by my Mom

 

Entry 4

Harvest of the Night

by Donna LaFollette

Night
Rises from the horizon
Like a blanket
Enveloping me in darkness.
I closed my eyes to wait for sleep,
But rest eludes me like a red fox
Running from the hounds.
My mind dances and darts
Around the day
And plots for the next.
Twisting the sheets into a knot,
I toss and tumble.
Lessons and list form.
Witty sayings and smart responses
To imagine voices fleck silently
From my tongue – so clever in the dark.
Lines of prize-winning poetry
Pulsate through my dreams.
Then rousing rays of sun
Slip through my window,
Diluting the harvest of the Night.

 

Link: Mom’s Facebook Page

 

Series of Five Poems by my Mom

 

Entry 3

Birth

by Donna LaFollette

After a full day of work and evening chores
Late in the night as the silver spring moon
Illuminated the golden daffodils
Mom hunches over the mahogany sewing machine.
The Singer light cast a glow
Of concentration on her face.
The needle, darting like a wood pecker,
Reflecting from her tortoise-Shell glasses.
Resembling a practiced musician, she
Accompanies the flip of the pressure foot
With a swirl of yellow dotted Swiss.
She presses the lever with her knee,
And the machine whirls and hums,
Propelling a cascading river of gold material.
Abruptly, the whine of the motor stops.
Mother bends closer and bites the thread,
Separating the creator from the creation.
Born now my easter dress, a labor of love.

 

Link: Women Who Wright – Louisville

 

 

Series of Five Poems by my Mom

 

 

Entry 2

Grandma

by Donna LaFollette

The fluttering leaves of the diary,
Yellowed and gray,
Opened for me a window
On Grandma’s life
When white hair was earthy brown
With shimmering waves.
Her blue dress flowed long
Over Pinched waist and full hips.
In April long ago, this young girl
Lifted her soft skirts
To dash out to a shy, brown-suited man
Waiting in a squeaky, bouncy buggy
Dappled horses snorted at restrained love,
Oh, not so long ago.