Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the tag “daughters”

POM: April 2


An extended metaphor of personal significance.

To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

—Linda Pastan

 

NPM: #23–purses and tributes to mothers


Getting Close

by Victoria Redel

 

 Because my mother loved pocketbooks

I come alive at the opening click or close of a metal clasp.

rest of poem

Victoria Redel renders a stunning tribute to her mother. It’s odd how certain objects breathe life into dormant memories. The days of women ensconced in their handbags, pocketbooks, purses is one I do not currently relate to, as I am no slave to fashion and its requirements. Yet, Redel’s poem nudges a few faded portraits of “going somewhere” because my mother had a “certain purse” draped on her arm. Outings had a sense of special due to the requirement apparel, such as a matching purse crooked upon the arm.  I am still drawn to old handbags and their cousins whenever I browse thrift shops. I only hold a fondness, a remembrance; I have no desire to have one perch upon my arm. I am of the backbag age, the unique tote age, the “why-would-I-switch-everything-from-one-bag-to-another?” age. Still I do look, and still I do appreciate Redel’s own penchant and tribute.

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