She grew up in a poker face house
curtains drawn, emotions stuffed
inside walls, inside heads, inside everywhere.
Except anger. Sometimes it came flying out.
After a lull. Unexpected.
So loud, it shook the rafters.
No wonder she flew the coop,
using that old vernacular.
Married, with kids, she broke the mold.
Babies babbled, inside and out
sometimes screamed, mouths wide open
no plugs, pacies or binkes allowed.
I love yous and table talk
campfire banter, tell me true
talk it through to eyes that listen.
She insisted on a barcode kind of world
emotions easily scanned
on an every day conveyor belt.
lillian the home poet 
Eloquent and powerful.
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Thank you so much Barbarak: I always appreciate your comments — happy I am that you like this one. Right from the heart.
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Beautifully written.
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Many thanks this AM — setting me up for a lovely day!
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Were you in my red & white checkered kitchen in 1975. I just had an eerie flashback of a long rectangular table, clock reading 6 pm, dad and mom at either end, 3 kiddies on either side, 8 mouths, no words, only chewing and perhaps “may I please have a little more.” 🙂 We all flew the coop as quickly as possible. Funny thing is, today, my household is always a-chatter, and yet, my kiddies still speak of attaining their glorious freedom 😉 What’s with that! 😉
This piece is perfect in every sense of every word, Lillian! Really enjoyed.
Happy Wordful Wednesday to you.
I’m rounding the corner and onto my 2nd cup 😉
am:)
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So fun to meet you in your 1975 kitchen! Finishing laundry and sipping away — well sometimes gulping :). Happy day to you!
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🙂 You as well, my friend!
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Powerful!
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So glad you like it! Nice to see you here today. 🙂
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What’s up to every body, it’s my first pay a quick visit of this blog; this blog
includes amazing and truly fine material for readers.
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