Two at the ends, two at the back
one for the cook, one for the help
this was the way of Sunday’s table:
hungry tums anxiously waiting,
family dog glued to the floor
lest any scrap should need saving.
Father would pray for all our saving;
serve himself before handing back,
while Mother paced the dining floor
ever offering us kids some help
till dishes, her end, piled up, waiting –
always an imbalance at our table.
Silence was the rule of the table,
stories and anecdotes were for saving,
politeness called for patient waiting –
chairs tucked in and shoulders back
and no cutting the meat without help,
cold potatoes slyly sloshing on floor.
Youngest feet not reaching the floor
tended to swing beneath the table
kicking knees could not be helped;
from fiendish scowls no saving –
Father’s hand flashed a wicked back,
scolding sermons he kept in waiting.
My tongue would tire of the waiting
no matter how I focused on the floor
and if a sister should glance me back
that would be the end of a quiet table,
giggles nervously emerging from saving
any hope of control beyond our help.
Mother’s good nature was seldom help,
nor Father’s silence as he glared, waiting,
for the situation was far beyond saving,
and his chair angrily scraped the floor
as his storming presence left the table
we happily waved at his regressing back.
***
All the stories we’ve been saving –
childhood foibles we couldn’t help
Days and people we’ll never get back
hoping that somewhere they’re waiting
That one day we’ll meet, share the floor
minus the hurt, forgiveness at the table.
(My poetry circle tried their hands at a sestina.
This is my attempt. Another tale from dinner
with Dad. Image my own.)
you nailed the format, forgiveness is only half the battle! We never forget but owning it and talking about really do help the healing … and your poetry is a perfect outlet 🙂
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Thanks so much Kate.
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welcome VJ, I’m a fan 🙂
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I really liked the poem and the form. It fit so well moving from the memory to the reflection. The spirit and resilience of you and your siblings comes through despite the heavy handed management of your father. Really well done!
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Thanks Sarah. It was a fun form to tackle.
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Latest version will be instead of silence the nose is buried under the mobile phone and
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Can’t imagine he would have ever permitted that. We weren’t allowed to answer the landline during dinner.
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That’s really sad 😔
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Your poetry works well in any form; that’s for sure!
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Thanks my friend.
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Welcome!
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Yes, not all tyrants are in the Whitehouse or the palace, a sadness underpinned by glimpses of hope and healing.
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I do have hope that healing is to be had, although not all of us emerged with that hope. Thanks Paul.
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Ah, the inner pain, I hope you find that healing.
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Brava! ❤️
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Thanks 😊
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My pleasure!
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Excellent description that adds to the tension within the poem and, thus, at the table.
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Thanks Annette
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you did a fine job with bringing us into this experience – it makes me sad that well meaning religious people did have that tyrant side or some had some serious and dry sides – not saying your dad did – but i read your comment to sadje about the tyrant side.
i know some parents that can be so militant and years ago i read a book about sometimes why this unfolds
–
anyhow – your prose flowed and brought us there!
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Thank you. He was a commando during WWII, and certainly brought that militance home with him.
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Oh wow – such a stealer background
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In retrospect, he suffered from PTSD, although they didn’t name it in those days.
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Same with my dad – a Korean War vet! And it makes me glad that we now offer a lot more help for Vets because you are so right they did not name conditions and were quite unaware!
On Memorial Day I had time to visit with my other and we watched the Mike Hucakabee show (prerecorded) and one of the ladies said that her dad turned to alcohol for coping and then she mentioned how much better it is for Vets now – not perfect by any means – but in some ways we have made great progress
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I cannot imagine the horrors they witnessed. Now wonder it destroyed souls. Thanks for sharing.
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🙏☀️💕
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A very disquieting poem and accompanying image.
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Certainly unnatural circumstances for a growing family of girls.
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Dad scares me, as I guess he did all of you.
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He really did. Ruled by intimidation.
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This is a wonderful sestina, VJ. But so heart wrenching. Forgetting never comes easily, isn’t it.
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You are right. Forgiveness, maybe, but forgetting no.
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This personal narrative works well with the Sestina. It is sad the heavy handed ways of some people, but yours and your sisters spirits couldn’t be silenced. I loved the last two lines, the optimism that it could be different.
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Thanks Heather. Throughout his life, I just viewed my father as a tyrant, but later, I see it all in a different light. Understanding comes too late some times.
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Unfortunately, it often does.
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Well conveyed … makes me restless just reading this! My dad too had little patience for chit-chat at the dinner table save his own about current events in the outer world. His hand would fly up, palm in speaker’s face, scowl spewing from his eyes. “Taught” me to parent by opposite model – with meals as gatherings where all got to speak about their day, their fantasies, whatever. [Gotta wonder how that generation was treated as kids at family meals!]
Thanks for sharing this, VJ … I’m headed off to visit my daughter today [over lunch, talking and chewing on food/anxieties … we’ll each take care of our own dishes!]
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I know my grandfather was the same. Like you, I wanted my table to be a place of laughter and sharing. Enjoy your visit. Family time has become so much more treasured during this pandemic.
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This hit home for me! Wonderfully told, thank you for sharing💗
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You too?! Thanks.
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This is so moving VJ! If true story, I feel for the children who have to quieten their voices in their own home.
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Thanks Sadje. It was true. Our Father was a tyrant at times.
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You’re welcome! Some people find it so hard to change their ways and thinking.
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They do. In the last two years of his life, he cried every day to think how cruel he’d been. At least we had that.
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Even that is so painful to see.
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Yes, it was.
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🤗
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