From the Kitchen of my Childhood

Red laminate table and tyre swing, for us. Love this poem, you've taken me back already.

Really nice lines here Martha.

"Through the grime of a window" very nice

Ooops. I meant Myra, but hello to you too Martha! Where's my coffee?

"Thin edged knife on steel grey stone
sharpens in fluorescent glint."

Very sharp image, has a hot/cold feel (to me).

Like the (possibly unintended?) play on the noun/verb frieze (and I've SEEN those cooks before).

This is lovely, full of sensory details and so evocative.

wonderful poem. Love.

…filled with a pillow from your dreams.
You swing, and hope
its beam support
will never break.

Powerful.

When it comes to porch swings, I’m the Catcher in the Rye for old folks.

I’ll visit an elderly couple and spend the time making sure the chain to their porch swing is firmly secured.

It’s some kind of obsession, I guess.

Beautiful and the last line lingers as every child's hope.

Haunting. Marvelous detail. Fine poem.

Such rich images and lingering. Wonderful! fav!

OK that was supposed to read:

Such rich and lingering images.

we all need coffee I guess.

Thanks to Martha, Michael, Matt, Lou, Meg, Dean, Jane Jack, Michelle, you are all such brilliant writers I feel really honoured to receive such lovely heartfelt comments from you all.

Fine poem. Making toys yourself is the best. I could do a 1001 things with the box our Frigidaire came in. Who needs PlayStation?

Great descriptions.

Thanks, Matthew, I agree, who needs Playstation!

Thanks Jon, much appreciated.

Everything brought to life.A hundred Sunday roasts. Nice.

Thanks muchly, Darryl :-)

as long as we are quoting -

"muffin hats greasy
from the regimen of
a hundred Sunday roasts"

puts such a picture in the mind. Aw, quote the whole poem.

Thanks, Walter.

I'm with you from first line to last here, Myra. Warm rounded chrome and the spiky rope fibres in the palms of my hands.

There is a lot of lovely pathos to this poem. Great aching detail, as if the place itself is a beating heart

Thanks, Carole and Susan. Lovely comments :-)

Yes, I'm with Carol--the round shouldered Frigidaire time-warped me to the 50s in an eye-blink, and I was with you all the way to the ride on the swing. So nice to be able to feel in sure hands like that.

Thanks Barry, for your nice comments :-) lots of memories sprang to mind as I was writing it, too.

Nice, Myra. Love the wide range of images and textures in this poem.

evocative. very glad to be here today with this poem, Myra.

Thanks, Christian. Much appreciated.

Hi Julie, I'm glad you are here too!

lovely images and beautiful language.

Thanks Amy, very kind of you.

chrome hard backed chairs numbering the same as your family. Such memories.

Thanks, Estelle.

Myra youre really good at this memory thing. The last line here is perfect. It sums up the fragility of our home life, childhoods and sense of security.

Thanks, Sara.

Loved the marching cooks, could see them:
"...muffin hats greasy
from the regimen of
a hundred Sunday roasts."

Evocative, quite visual poem. Hope...

Thanks, James for your insightful comments :-)

Thanks Beate :-)

Wonderful, Myra!

Thanks, Marcelle.

Oh, Myra, this is such a lovely tribute to how making do can make magic!

Thanks, Stephanie :-)

A divine sense of place. I love your style.

Thanks Johnsienoel.

As a Great Depression kid, I know what you mean by make do. People who made do were rewarded with imaginations. I feel now kids only have to hit a button marked "Imagination".

Your imagery is transporting, Myra. Thank you.

Thanks, Ramon :-)

Wow, this is lovely. I'm in your kitchen and also now back in mine. Thanks for the nostalgia trip!

Thanks, Claire.

Nostalgia is so heartbreaking and resonates deeply. Love this! Fave.

Apryl, thanks so much :-)

I'm not much of a poem reader. Well, I am, but don't claim to understand always. But this is crystal clear, and lets me stand there observing a memorable past.
Excellent visuals.

Thanks, Michael.

I love this, Myra. It is so vivid and economical. I love it when I find a poem that blurs the line between genres. When memoir and poetry join, it can be magical, and I think this is a beautiful example. Absolutely lovely.

Thanks Jen, I'm really chuffed you liked it :-)

Wow, so glad I just stumbled on this one -- vivid, lovely and evocative. Many thanks.

Thanks, Pamela, I'm happy you enjoyed it!