There is a sad inevitability about this poem which is accomplished very
well.
bw
James


>From: Ryfkah * <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: African Violets
>Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 11:42:32 EDT
>
>African Violets
>
>Their mother reared African Violets
>orchid  pink  and near indigo
>She pinched deadheads
>and ocher leaves   fed them
>special food by eye dropper
>
>His red hat strung below chin
>he played cowboy by riding
>the end of the worn couch
>roping his little sister until
>she yelled Mommy
>
>The African Violets jungled
>the back room like a rainforest
>Their leaves grew strong
>The sun angled just right
>even in the late afternoon
>
>As teenagers they watched
>American Bandstand
>dreamt of being on television
>Mom fixed hot meals
>on rusting TV trays
>
>The African Violets wept their leaves
>A few blooms surfaced
>Soil like a dry riverbed
>embraced their struggle
>Some pots held barren stubs
>
>Their mother died last week
>at eighty-seven
>Her slight body at rest
>The pain of old age vanished
>On her grave African Violets
>
>Ryfkah 7/27/02




bw
James


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