In Mother’s Room

I am in my mother’s room. It was the kitchen. Here she was the boss. The pots and pans were hers, the dishes, all the ingredients that fed the family. She kept us together with her mashed potatoes, green beans and meat loaf.

She nourished us with sweets made each Sunday. She poured the cereal of life into us each morning and sometimes when it was 20 below zero outside, she called from the kitchen, “Jane, French toast is ready.”

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dVerse prompt to write from a first line of a novel. I used Samuel Beckett’s “I am in my mother’s room.”

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In Mother’s Room

Staying Alive

Licking the batter bowl

mother didn’t know that it could kill us

sweet sugar egg flour

on our tongues

now verboten

she didn’t know those little pet turtles

(the ones in their plastic island paradise)

with salmonella all over their tiny prickly feet

could kill us

now verboten

mother didn’t know that our cotton pajamas

could kill us

when we fell into the fire

now verboten

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Dutch word verboten has such a nice sound to it. Verboten is German, verbose Afrikaans

Staying Alive

Mother of Horses

Oh my mother

mother of permanence

mother of mothers

mine is equestrial

run out there & today gentle

mother ///// mother

you are not the mother negated

ride ///// prance ///// divine

content & discontent

with me ///// with Him

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NaPoWriMo prompt to use a poem from a different language and write a poem based on its sound and rhythm (not a translation). I used a poem from the Portuguese poet Florbela Espanca.

Mother of Horses