I am the Blue of my Mother’s Eyes

I am the songs that my mother sang to me
the dust of Coty powder on her nose, cheek and chin
the peach lipstick imprints on the paper hankie
that she threw with panache into the nearest waste bin

I am the softness of my mother’s favourite sweater
the way her chiffon scarf wafted in the air
the neatness of her writing in a long-lost letter
the way she crossed her legs when she sat on a chair

I am the secrets that she never revealed
the little imperfections that she always concealed
the wrinkled hands so papery and dry
I am the blue of my mother’s eyes

Kim M. Russell, 16th July 2020

Mum and me when I was two025

My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar: I am, The First Person Narrative

Grace is our host for Meeting the Bar today and we are writing in the fist person. ‘I am’ as part of our poems, which can be personal, or we can pretend we are other people or someone from history or fiction. We should try to tell the reader what this character sees, feels, wants, illustrating their deepest thoughts within and what the senses are drawn to.

Grace encourages us to go beyond the usual descriptions of I am (a brother, sister, friend, citizen, etc), to be experimental and creative; we should think inanimate objects, drinks, animals, planets and inter-galactic travel, streets, cities, plants, trees, or weekdays or months or years, or even pandemic terminology.

To inspire us, Grace has shared examples by Henry David Thoreau, Carl Sandburg and Juan Ramón Jiménez.

52 thoughts on “I am the Blue of my Mother’s Eyes

  1. What a sweet photo Kim. What comes across is the strong connection and love between you and your mother. Now I am remembering my mom’s neat handwriting in her letters. The last stanza is poignant and haunting as it can be when we hold a wrinkled hand so papery and dry.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you so much, Grace. My hands are just like my mother’s, where all the wrinkles have congregated!
      I am having problems accessing your blog to read your poem. I keep getting an error message. I’ll try again later.

      Like

  2. Kim, you cherish your mother here in such a beautiful way. Children are always watching every move their parents make, and you have a wonderful memory of her wondrousness. I love the photo ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Great opening line. Its got a hook as i can easily remember songs my mother sang. I like how u built this with the visuals and brought it more personal with the things she concealed behind all of it. Parents can be superheroes never letting us see the hurts and pains.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Every line is laced with love, and it is contagious. It made these chapped lips curl upward, and my eyes dewy, for it is now my hands wrinkled like crepe paper, laced with spots and angry veins, and thoughts of my own mother, who passed at 39.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Glenn. You can probably see from the photograph that she was very ill at the time of that photograph. Both my mother and grandmother had TB.

      Like

  5. This was such a beautiful tribute to the memory of your mother. It reminded me of my sweet mum with the references to City and the lipstick. When I was a child I would dress in a beautiful oyster-colored satin robe that she had. It felt so luxurious and she never knew that I did that. I am always delighted to read one of her old letters too. They seem so formal now. Thank you for a lovely poem Kim 🥰

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I agree with Jane, the minute detail really make this so tender and sweet, the things that a child remembers. so sweet, read this to my girlfriend, who has blue eyes and loves and misses her mom, she is so like her mom! this is so sweet!

    Liked by 2 people

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