in Hymnal Measure |
Aromas from the kitchen feed the bonds of family, as Mama starts to blend and knead the dough for baking spree. When stench of baby's diaper alerts her in the night, she soothes her cranky customer without a speck of spite. When our creative spirits bloom, the sticky fingerprints adorn the walls of ev'ry room with hue of peppermints. When we return from day of play with trousers caked in dirt, she scrubs and cleans from day to day and serves a sweet dessert. Her language turns quite venomous when orders are defied, but discipline of calculus has steady tone to guide. When baseball season comes along to let the games begin, one voice stands out from bleachers throng, exhorting us to win. Her sweat from backyard garden toil yields collard greens to share because she nurtures plot of soil with so much tender care. Some fading photographs preserve us toddlers taking naps and silly grin of Uncle Irv with golden dental caps. The beeping hospital machine now signals time is near for last farewell to loving queen of family so dear. Author's Notes: 1. 36 lines of Hymnal Measure. 2. Hymnal Measure is a stanza form with specific pattern of rhyme and meter, as described and demonstrated in following link: http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/2013Challenge/form01.html . |