Posted in Poetry 1990's, Poetry for children, tagged Children, growing up, mothers, nesting dolls, nostalgia, perception, poem, Poetry, sons, vision on December 5, 2014| 26 Comments »
Like those nesting dolls
in graduated sizes
my sons became
encased each year
inside of bigger boys.
Now grown and sealed
inside tall men
they’re unaware
I still see through
a mother’s eyes
to all those younger little boys
still playing deep inside.
.
(c) 1992, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Poetry 1970's, Poetry 1980's, tagged childhood, eruption, friendship, growing up, laughter, mt. st. helens, volcano on August 28, 2011| 4 Comments »
“Down Moon River on a Cement Slab” *
To Barbara Pierce Morris Seibold (1947 – 1980)
(Written for my dear friend Barb, who died in the eruption of Mt. St. Helens on May 18, 1980, along with her husband and two children. She always made me laugh, always found the humor in any situation. This poem was given to her on her 33rd birthday, just two months before she died. It was meant to be a short biography of our long friendship, but it has become more of a memorial celebration of her short life. The last verse was added after she died.) (Added 5/2013: and now another 33 years has flown by….)
.
We had a frog called Inky-Dink
until the pond went dry
and it was time
to go to school.
We threw our homework
in the mud
and laughed
Barb (on right) – we were 15.
at Mrs. Eagle-Eye.
.
I slammed your finger
in the locker door,
your nail turned
black and blue.
You laughed
and drained it with a pin
that had a different
point of view.
.
Then walking home
we yelled at muddy trucks
that splashed our knees
with scum,
and laughing, kicked
fresh Girl Scout cookies
down the street
to spite the crumbs.
.
On Saturdays
we shopped downtown,
they couldn’t keep us
on the ground.
I lost you
on the 13th floor
but always heard you laughing
through the elevator door.
.
Dick’s fries were still 11 cents
we ate them
in your green corvair
and laughed and sang
to KJR
then chased some boys
but not too far.
.
Once on a dare
we broke into
the secret tunnel
beneath the school.
Our stockings snagged
on gurgling pipes
we swore the air grew hotter
but all the time
we laughed our alma mater.
.
After senior finals
you threw your gym shoes
from the car.
They landed on a frowning cop
who didn’t want to celebrate.
You laughed
at the $30 fine
and went to graduate.
.
One day we met
with shining rings
and home grown bellies
laughing at the years gone by.
We drove to show
a favorite teacher
how we’d learned to multiply.
.
added a few months later, after Barb died in the eruption of Mt. St. Helens:
.
No roadblocks ever
held you back
how could you know St. Helen’s
would have heartburn on that day?
She belched,
I felt the earth shake
when you died
and all was ash.
But somehow
from deep inside
I know you’ll have the final laugh.
.
© 1979, 1980,
.
* Title comes from the time a DJ on the radio said, “And now we’re gonna float down moon river on a cement slab” as he spun the popular song “Moon River”. We laughed till we cried. (Guess you would’ve had to be there. 🙂 )
Click on image for more info.
Seasonings 