Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Mi Casa

by HV

This raggedy broken down house
I live in with my grandmother
was erected when she was two. Only a child,
a curious brat that hung around the stove,
she watched her father cook. He always read the almanac,
his daily guide to planting ground crops. Tears

from heaven were his blessings, but too many tears
were shed. The river ran wild and beat against the house
after overflowing its banks. The almanac
never revealed the fury from the sky. Grandmother
grew hungry as it poured, lit the coal stove
and heated bed warmers to heat the bed for her child.

Hunger crept in as the rain fell. Her child
grew a bellyache from gas pains and cried tears
to honor his discomfort. She heated a can of soup on the stove
and fed him, then surveyed the house.
the rain eased as my grandmother
prayed, she never liked the almanac.

As the tears dried, the almanac
showed my grandmother serenity, she put out the coal stove
after feeding the child and repaired the battered house.

3 comments:

Cinn said...

I like this poem I can't wait to see how it turns out. Thanks for sharing information on the form for the "Sestina". It is always nice to learn new poetry styles. By the way reading this made me think of my grandmothers too.

H.Collins said...

Thanks for reading and letting me know you stopped by. I'm glad you found a personal connection as well.

Restored2life said...

This is definitely one of your best poems! It has such an artistic tone in it! Wonderful!