throw it away,
we’ll use it for patches.
We can always eat bread—and eggs.
Still not done the dishes?
You could always weed the garden.
So much to do.
I’ll be in the garden.
Don’t be listening on the line.
make some supper?
First you work, then you play.
We’ll have a picnic—I’ll make it
© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
Yesterday’s prompt at NaPoWriMo was to:
“… write a poem that incorporates ‘the sound of home.’ Think back to your childhood, and the figures of speech and particular ways of talking that the people around you used, and which you may not hear anymore.”
I read the prompt in the morning and dismissed it. But then as I was making dinner last night, all these sayings that my mother had started coming back to me.
My mom was an amazing woman. As a mother of many children, she worked hard and expected me, as the eldest, to do my share. Mostly I was a pretty compliant kid, though I did choose inside jobs where I was routinely distracted by whatever was happening in the book I was reading at the time. I chose a counted syllable cinquain form to give the poem some ‘bones.’
*Na-yo is Low German expression that communicates a resigned “well yes.”