NaPoWriMo Day 18: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates “the sound of home.” Think back to your childhood, and the figures of speech and particular ways of talking that the people around you used, and which you may not hear anymore. My grandfather and mother, in particular, used several phrases I’ve rarely heard any others say, and I also absorbed certain ways of talking living in Charleston, South Carolina that I don’t hear on a daily basis in Washington, DC. Coax your ear and your voice backwards, and write a poem that speaks the language of home, and not the language of adulthood, office, or work. Happy writing!
My name, nearly as long as the alphabet, was used by my mother only on special occasions.
Like — “Loretta Janelle B_________ get in this house right now; boys go home!”
It seemed we could go anywhere, “Lord willing the creek don’t rise.”
I suppose my grandmother had to actually forge a creek or two.
At my best friend’s house they would “round up” the table, whereas I’m pretty sure we simply set it.
My entire family can still sit at that same table in my childhood home to this day.
Our Harman Kardon console stereo dished out a respectable 100 watts per channel…
Belting out Wayne Newton using canopy bedpost toppers or hair brushes as a microphone.
“Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen; Thank you for all the joy and pain.”
“Lori, do you want to lick the spoon?” may explain why I’d rather eat batter than brownies.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for this food, and the hands that prepared it, bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. In Christ’s name, Amen” Was my father’s nightly refrain.
Growing up in church I sang hymns before I could read, I’m sure you may know them, too—
“Hallelujah! Christ had toast!” (Christ Arose)
“Saved a wrench like me…” (Amazing Grace)
“Bringing in the cheese, we shall come rejoicing bringing in the cheese!” (Bringing in the Sheaves)
~Just L (April 18, 2016)