She Hated Poetry Poem by Brian Mayo

She Hated Poetry

Rating: 5.0

One day,
I asked my mother why
she hated poetry
and she quite suddenly stopped
flipping through her desk calendar
and she half-stood,
and began sliding open and sliding closed
the numerous small drawers
of her antique shaker writing desk.
And with a sigh she finally fished
a torn and tiny slip of brown,
what could have been the corner
of a wrinkled paper bag,
and penciled on it lightly as a wish
was a poem
and as she handed it to me
I saw a look within her eyes
that I had never, ever
seen before
or since.

Friday, March 11, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
Kelly Kurt 11 March 2016

A poem from a long lost love? Or love, long lost?

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M Asim Nehal 11 March 2016

A poetry in a different shade......10

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Simone Inez Harriman 12 March 2016

Now I am intrigued of course I could only imagine that this little slip of paper held some powerful magic that ordained the present.

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Marianne Reninger 12 March 2016

Oh I love the mystery, Brian! You must follow this with another poem. Another poet here writes continuous stories about his characters, Terry Collett, fascinating swatches which set my morning intrigue factor soaring. This poem might just create competition!

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Bri Edwards 10 October 2016

AND now it's in MyPoemList (also) , where it belongs! bri: :)

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Bri Edwards 10 October 2016

i loved this..............AGAIN.

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Bri Edwards 01 August 2016

favorite lines so far: and penciled on it lightly as a wish was a poem hmm? what could it have said? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? i ponder. to MyPoemList. will you ever let us know? or is this made up stuff and there is no real answer because there was no event as described and no 'slip' of brown? ? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Mrs. Mayo: An Explanation Have you ever wondered why your son's eyes are blue, when blue eyes don't happen in the families....of you two? ? I mean the families of you and your dear husband, Gene. Why, for generations your families' eyes have all been green! ! Your newborn son was switched by us at birth. But we gave you one with (nearly) as much worth. My son was born the same day your son was, but ours was bald, and yours had a head of fuzz. Fearing that our son would never ever grow hair, we took yours and gave you ours. Life is not fair!

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Pamela Sinicrope 25 May 2016

Awwwwwww. Love this. I really enjoy your writing style and wit.... But this one tugged on my heart. Yes! Please follow up...10.

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Wayne Kingston 13 March 2016

Poetry at it's best. Looking inside someone and learning just enough in one moment. Sparkling work! No need to know the outcome; we have the pleasure of providing our own ending. Thx for this piece.

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Brian Mayo

Brian Mayo

Grand Rapids Michigan
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