Poetry Friday031








I come from a long line of strident women
First born porcelain cleaners.
I have cleaned white bowls for 40 years
if you count the early days when my brothers did yard work
and I polished taps and sanitized alongside Mother.

I tried to levy birth order then
for wrinkled finger tips, upright vacuums white noise, and
dusters made of outgrown undershirts.
Stared with longing out the window for
a clue less obvious than
the flowering buds of my own soft flesh.

Come to think of it,
I denied things long after;
my femininity an afterthought,
broadcast an ‘I Can Do Anything’ mantra like a war shield,
blazing fearless into
life and love.

Life inside me changed everything.
Womb blossoming like a June rose
fragrant with maternity, all thoughts of
equality cracked like the precious hand
of my grandmother’s china doll.
Clarity came with mother’s milk and creation,
my benediction to a long line
of strident women

Lesley-Anne Evans
August 2010

Poetry Friday019


The weary ones had rest,
The sad had joy that day,
And wondered ‘how’
A plowman singing at his work
Had prayed
‘Lord, help them now.’

Away in foreign lands they
Wondered how
Their simple word had power
At home the Christians two
And three had met,
To pray an hour.

Yes we are always wond’ring
Wond’ring ‘how’
Because we do not see
Someone, unknown perhaps
And far away
On Bended Knee.

Chrissie Robinson*

* My maternal grandmother, Christina Robinson.