Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
RedshiftPoems
three sets of withered, wrinkly hands with chipped tired pale-pink nailpolish flutter in the air, describing. three froofy perms one browny-gray one white one salt and pepper bob jutting forward, one wobbles a little. Grandma wears a green-foam party hat with a thin, white elastic band that runs under her wrinkled chin it sits atop her fuzzy perm comically... she smiles at me. "Ah! my cappuccino! you remembered i like it, didn't you?" she chucks her great-granddaughter under the chin, grins "oohh! look at these gardening gloves! Cidi! look at these gloves! i like the green ones." she hands them to her white-haired sister aunt cidi told me this year she is ninety-one oh, and the gloves were really blue. aunt cidi misses uncle harland he was buried three or four years ago in his uniform i remember sitting next to him at awkward family reunions eating hotdogs i never saw so much mustard in my life he could never hear me when i tried to talk to him but he smiled anyway. the talk turns serious suddenly over our black coffee crossed legs sweaters and chocolate cake grandma turns grim in her lime-green party hat "did you end up killing that trumpet vine in your yard, Jeanie?" aunt jeanie's head wobbles a bit she squints wrinkles her nose "i TRIED to!" she scowls. schemes of ****** plotted by three chunky-earringed sweet old ladies who are a little late for the 1940's but never too late for a handsome soldier "we're older..." says aunt jeanie "but not THAT old!" they all giggle.
0
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
how to ****** a trumpet vine.
three sets of withered, wrinkly hands with chipped tired pale-pink nailpolish flutter in the air, describing. three froofy perms one browny-gray one white one salt and pepper bob jutting forward, one wobbles a little. Grandma wears a green-foam party hat with a thin, white elastic band that runs under her wrinkled chin it sits atop her fuzzy perm comically... she smiles at me. "Ah! my cappuccino! you remembered i like it, didn't you?" she chucks her great-granddaughter under the chin, grins "oohh! look at these gardening gloves! Cidi! look at these gloves! i like the green ones." she hands them to her white-haired sister aunt cidi told me this year she is ninety-one oh, and the gloves were really blue. aunt cidi misses uncle harland he was buried three or four years ago in his uniform i remember sitting next to him at awkward family reunions eating hotdogs i never saw so much mustard in my life he could never hear me when i tried to talk to him but he smiled anyway. the talk turns serious suddenly over our black coffee crossed legs sweaters and chocolate cake grandma turns grim in her lime-green party hat "did you end up killing that trumpet vine in your yard, Jeanie?" aunt jeanie's head wobbles a bit she squints wrinkles her nose "i TRIED to!" she scowls. schemes of ****** plotted by three chunky-earringed sweet old ladies who are a little late for the 1940's but never too late for a handsome soldier "we're older..." says aunt jeanie "but not THAT old!" they all giggle.
Written by
Redshift
F/American
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem