Tag Archives: Poetry Friday

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Empty Nest Adjustment

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I thought I was used to my children being away from home. My youngest just finished her junior year in college, so all three have been out of the nest for some time. My son, my oldest, moved out shortly after graduating in 2016, but thankfully he’s not too far away. Last spring my oldest daughter graduated, and in the fall, she moved to Philadelphia, aka The Land of Too Too Far Away.  This summer, my youngest has opted to stay in her college town for the summer. It’s less than 2 hours away, but it’s the first time that none of my children will be living at home during the summer. It’s all having a cumulative effect, and I’m feeling a wee bit unmoored and nostalgic.

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A city sparrow, spotted in Philadelphia

Philadelphia Sparrow

Sweet city sparrow,
does your heart yearn
for the rolling hills of country?
or are you content
in your pocket of greenery?
has city life transformed you?
what do you do
when your nestlings fly away?

M. Hogan (c) 2017

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Philly mural

Grey and Blue

It all seems so grey-grey-grey
a low level grizzly grumble
I’ve got a bad case
of the can’t-help-its
and need someone
to shake out the grumpies
like we did with the kids
when they were small
but now they’re all grown
which makes me feel
blue-blue-blue

©2018 M. Hogan

The latter poem feels unfinished, jagged and irregular to me, but since that’s how I’m feeling (off and on), I’m going to let it ride.

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Rebecca Herzog at her blog, Sloth Reads. She’s sharing a review of “I’m Just No Good at Rhyming And Other Nonsense For Mischievous Kids and Immature Grown-Ups”, a delightful collection of poems by Chris Harris. Stop by for a sneak peek!

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Mother’s Day Gift

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Mother’s Day Gift

I never told you about
the beads I found in her dresser
after she died
how I remember opening the drawers
one by one
slowly, quietly
so no one would hear me
how I buried my hands in her things
searching for nothing
for everything
and how in the top right drawer
I found them

I never told you how
my fingers brushed
the salt-coarse sides of
those beads I vaguely remembered making
how they were square
well, square-ish really
slightly concave on each side from
the curve of my fingertips pressing
how they were strung
on a dark leather cord threaded
through their rough-punctured holes
and how I’d painted them brightly
with her favorite colors
oranges, yellows and greens

I never told you how
I stood still and
stared at them in surprise
those salt dough beads resurrected
from the mists of my past
a long ago gift
from me to her
how I wondered then
why she’d kept them
Though I understand now

I never told you that
when I finally lifted them to me
up and out of the dresser drawer
they crumbled into bits and pieces
and left me holding
an awkwardly knotted
empty black cord

©2018 M. Hogan

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the amazing Jama Rattigan at her blog, Jama’s Alphabet Soup. She always creates a sensory feast and this week she’s focusing on bluebirds with some wonderful poetry and gorgeous artwork as well. Make sure to stop by and dip into the blue and perhaps visit some other sites as well!

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Ladybug

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Each fall the ladybugs gather in the corners of our house. Whenever I see one, I think of the childhood lines, “Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire, your children alone.” This year I realized two things: One, this verse is really quite grim, and two, I wasn’t sure how the rest of it went, though I felt sure that there was more. So, I looked it up and learned a few things along the way. For example, did you know that ladybugs are referred to in Great Britain as “lady birds”? The most common version of the verse, traced back to 1750s England, goes like this:

Ladybird, ladybird fly away home,
Your house is on fire and your children are gone,
All except one,
And her name is Ann,
And she hid under the baking pan.

That ending didn’t sound familiar to me at all! There are many, many versions of this verse, some much grimmer (“your children will burn!”) and there’s also much debate about its origin. Was it chanted by farmers warning ladybugs to flee before burning the fields after the harvest? Was it a warning to pagans to go underground? Was it sung out to warn Catholics who participated in illicit celebrations of Mass in farmer’s fields?

And that isn’t all!  Ladybugs have symmetrical spots, and many cultures consider them lucky. In the Netherlands the ladybug is used as an anti-bullying symbol and to raise awareness for the National Foundation against Senseless Violence. Tiles like this can apparently be found on streets and paths, and sometimes they’re placed at the site of a violent crime.

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I also came across this verse, published in Favorite Poems Old and New, Selected for boys and girls, selected by Helen Ferris. As I read, I was at first charmed but the ending has a darker tone. (For a lucky bug, there don’t seem to be too many happy verses around!)

Lady-bird, Lady-bird, fly away home
the field mouse is gone to her nest
the daisies have shut up their sleepy red eyes
and the birds and the bees are at rest
Lady-bird, Lady-bird, fly away home
the glow worm is lighting her lamp
the dew’s falling fast, and your fine speckled wings
will flag with the close clinging damp
Lady-bird, Lady-bird, fly away home
the fairy bells tinkle afar
make haste or they’ll catch you and harness you fast
with a cobweb to Oberon’s star

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The ladybug pictured above obliging posed for me while climbing on the plant in my bathroom. The black bat-like mark on her “face” made me think of superheroes, while echoes of that childhood verse lingered in my mind. One more not-so-cheery verse for the ladybug!

Valiant ladybird
spreads crimson carapace
soars to the heart of the blaze
to rescue children
who are already long gone

Molly Hogan (c) 2017

This week’s Poetry  Friday Roundup is hosted by Lisa Coughlin at her blog, Steps and Staircases. Make sure to stop by and check out some poetry.