Poetic Keepsakes during National Poetry Month
Poetic Day 26 of National Poetry Month: April 26, 2019, Friday
After searching the Family Tree and the Tree of Life for poetry topics yesterday, let us now take a look in the cedar chest, hope chest, or other treasure chest of family keepsakes. Can you find a poem inside one of those chests? Can you pull out a keepsake, hold it in your hands, and allow the object to become your muse for another poem?
I try to use most of my keepsakes–at least, seasonally or periodically–in my townhouse. I like to enjoy the keepsakes; and I enjoy further preserving these keepsakes with poetry, as the poem-of-the-day demonstrates. For additional writing ideas concerning your family treasures, refer to the five writing prompts at the end of this WORDWALK blog.
Aunt Zita’s Checkered Tablecloths
poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa
My north-facing kitchen
catches little sunshine,
but catches many memories.
Atop the maple table–
once-upon-a-time my parents’ table in Indiana–
is a green-and-white checkered tablecloth
that had lain on one of the smaller tables
at my Aunt Zita’s Italian restaurant.
Numerous platters of spaghetti and meat balls
once decorated this tablecloth.
Aroma of my aunt’s sauce and Italian veal
still arise from this tablecloth.
Happy conversations echo over
and around this keepsake cloth at every meal.
Starched, ironed, and blessed many times
by Aunt Zita’s hard-working hands,
this green-and-white checkered tablecloth
lies softly and casually in my kitchen.
Born in 1908, Aunt Zita–
modern, ahead of her times–
would smile at seeing atop her cloth
a Downton Abbey teapot
on a dinner plate from my mother’s china set
and a silver-blue vase filled with pink silk tulips–
because my aunt had a splendid garden of tulips.
As I drink my herbal tea
at this table of memories,
I am nourished by the love and strength
of my beloved aunt and other ancestors.
From Aunt Zita, I have one other tablecloth–
the red-and-white checkered one,
which is always on my table
for the Fourth of July and Festa Italiana.
Oh, what a time to celebrate
food and family!
* * *
Writing Prompts for Day 26 of National Poetry Month
- Write a poem focusing on a keepsake which you use.
- Write a poem concerning a keepsake which you keep in a cedar chest or other closed space.
- Write a poem about a keepsake which was lost or broken.
- Write a poem about giving a keepsake to someone of a younger generation.
- Write a poem about a cedar chest, hope chest, or treasure chest.
NOTE: As previously in April, I will not post on WORDWALK during the weekend; however, please return to WORDWALK on Monday and Tuesday for the final two posts for National Poetry Month. In May, I will return to my traditional practice of posting only once a week–each Wednesday, beginning with May 8, 2019.
* * *
This WORDWALK post and my other posts of National Poetry Month are dedicated
in memory of Deon Patrick Lyons–
poet, novelist, blogger, and friend.
Enjoy this poetic weekend (as we, in Milwaukee, await an April snow)!
Alice and Leader Dog Willow
April 26, 2019, Friday
What warm memories of Aunt ZIta’s famous Italian restaurant, Alice! I also have a red checkered tablecloth to remind me of all the delicious meals we enjoyed at Aunt Zita’s table. Tomorrow I am making stuffed shells with my homemade meat sauce which is as close as I can get to Aunt Zita’s secret recipe. Wish you were here to join us!
Love,
Mary
Hi, Mary–I am glad that you also have one of the tablecloths from the restaurant; memories sit well on such tablecloths.
Enjoy the stuffed shells!
Alice and Willow
Alice, you always bring back such wonderful memories in your poems and blogs. This was such a special poem for your Aunt Zita. I, too, have one of each color of checkered tablecloths. I enjoy using them on special occasions. Love, Aunt Kathy
Hi, Aunt Kathy–What a special day it is when I find a comment from you on my WORDWALK blog! Especially with this poem about Aunt Zita, I am delighted to have your comment.
Enjoy a wonderful week!
With love and thanks, Alice and Willow
Hi, Alice! I so enjoyed this poem. I was there in the kitchen of your Aunt Zita’s, seeing and smelling the heavenly piles of pasta with meatballs. Hungry just thinking about it. You have taken another simple concept and used it to paint beautiful memories with your words, once again. Thank you! Best to you and Willow!
Paula