Elizabeth Miller

Elizabeth Miller Poems

Not wanting to worry you, Mum,
I never told you why
Dappled bruises kept appearing on my shins
Why my pens would vanish

Your hands, so skilful then,
Could tie a bow in a heartbeat
Cut the toughest carrots
Hold buttercups beneath my chin

‘Come straight to the table as soon as you're called.
Punctuality is the politeness of kings.'

‘Don't slurp your soup. Sip it slowly and softly

Elizabeth Miller Biography

Elizabeth Miller, author of ‘Penumbra - Poems about Dementia' and 'Halfpace - Poems About My Childhood' is a writer, mother and teacher. The daughter of a librarian, with both parents as published authors, she has spent much of her life surrounded by books. At age three, she announced that her ambition was to be ‘a poem lady and drive round Ireland in a tractor'. Although she has enjoyed writing ever since, she has yet to climb aboard that Irish tractor! When Elizabeth's mother was diagnosed with dementia in 2015, Elizabeth began writing poetry as a cathartic activity but soon realised that her poems could help others if shared more widely. Since then she has continued writing poetry on a wide range of topics and enjoyed giving poetry readings, leading discussions and running workshops to help others find their voice. Elizabeth enjoys being out in the countryside and taming her garden. She loves singing, playing the keyboard and spending time with family and friends. She has a keen interest in genealogy and helped write a local history book for her village in Kent. She has also been involved in amateur film making and one of her poems provided the screenplay for 'Distance' by Mandy Carr. https: //vimeo.com/290548484 Drawing has recently become another passion and she has created her own illustrations for 'Halfpace'. Facebook: Elizabeth Miller Poetry)

The Best Poem Of Elizabeth Miller

Not Wanting To Worry You

Not wanting to worry you, Mum,
I never told you why
Dappled bruises kept appearing on my shins
Why my pens would vanish
Or how the laces on my shoes
Became an angry maze of tangled knots.

You never deduced
Why my hair looked sticky
And would smell so foul
Despite my recent shower
Or why my lunch came home still packed.

That Saturday in town
Perhaps you nearly guessed.
You wondered why I hid behind your heavy coat
And wouldn't speak for hours.
You called me silly.
You did not understand
Because I told you nothing,
Believing that you had
Worries enough of your own.

I was trying to protect you.

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