</>An Old Womans wisdom
Is the spilt milk of reason
Ornamental curled voice
Of a flea market mystic
Like crows on a wire
Tanned with old withered leather
They regale their last days
Sitting crouched on their porches
Dissecting the remains
Of the youth the despise
With Benevolent respects
For pneumatic emphasis
Handing out sage oppinion
That has low wage credentials
One could learn from quick thinking
Without falling from lifes tree
In the parlor of their kitchens
They will pass myriad stories
While watching mothers with Toddlers
Searching for absentee fathers
They then dropp the crone's melee
Taking their sympathy dog tags
For tutelage of young women
While appraising their children
In the cause of reminiscence
When their houre had purpose
But they are still little girls
To time's insensitive portrait
An old women's truth
Has tattooed holes for clues
Great experiance rehearsed
For a funerals understudy
Wow! Its wonderful. I love the thought and the way you execute it.
Very lyrical, an interesting ode to your grandmother. I rather like the ending of this one, a spectacular conclusion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I’m sure your Grandmother was proud and amused at this wonderful tribute.