Pleasure/Pain for dVerse Poets

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This is the dress made for me by my sister, Betty Jo, in 1957 for the parade celebrating our town’s founding fifty years before. The theme was “fairytales” and you have probably already guessed that I was Little Bo Peep.

Our dVerse  Poets assignment today was: Now write a list poem that begins ‘These I have loved:…’ of the everyday things that are important or precious to you. Be specific, picking out tiny details, and don’t stop until you get to the bottom of the page.Finish with ‘All these have been my loves’. Leave yourself time to refine your draft.
Here is my answer to this prompt:

Pleasure/Pain

These I have loved:

Tastes abandoned, former loves,
outgrown pleasures, bleached white gloves
worn for church or the senior prom,
fresh cherry pies cooked by my mom
from cherries pitted by our juice-stained fingers.
How memory of both labor and reward still lingers.

The cold bite of a walk-in freezer on a sweltering summer’s day.
The smell of sweet clover and itch of hay.
The press of leather constricting toes in my first pair of three-inch heels.
The squeak of rusted bike chains and the crunch of wheels
on gravel roads in our small prairie town,
the pelt of hailstones coming down
deafening on the metal of our brand new ride
with myself and sister sealed, terrorized, inside.

Hurtling across the street to the last school bell’s pealing.
Scabs peeled from skinned knees too slow in their healing.
The squeeze of painful memories of love gone wrong,
resurrected by the lyrics of a song.
Placing flowers on a sister’s grave,
remembering the past gifts that she gave:
that tiny dress that she once made
for me to wear in the parade

Recalling the pleasure and then afterwards, the pain
of the swell of memories the heart no longer can contain.
Grandma’s crazy quilt, of family clothing scraps stitched thin and wide,
left abandoned on the bed wherein my sister died.
Homes left to the lives of others, families left for other lives,
memories like bees swarming to other hives,
memories crumbling in boxes stored on shelves,
these bygone relics of our other selves.

All these have been my loves.

And this is that same dress, 69 years later, brought to me by my niece Cintra when we met in Peoria, AZ a few months ago. She had found it in her mother Betty’s things when she passed away a few years ago.  More mingled pleasure and pain.

 

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About lifelessons

My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.

20 thoughts on “Pleasure/Pain for dVerse Poets”

  2. kim881's avatarkim881

    I love the precious photos of the dress, Judy, and your often poignant list poem of the things you have loved, especially the cherries pitted by juice-stained fingers and the ‘smell of sweet clover and itch of hay’. I too loved the ’squeeze of painful memories of love gone wrong, resurrected by the lyrics of a song’, and my gran also made a quilt of family clothing scraps.

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  3. thetigressawakens's avatarthetigressawakens

    Beautiful dress, Judy! This poem feels like opening an old trunk filled with both treasures and ghosts. I appreciate how it doesn’t ask us to choose between joy and sorrow, but shows that both are stitched together regardless. Well done! 💜

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      1. Reelika Pedak's avatarReelika Pedak

        we did not make pies but we did make juice, sirup and wine… And jams… And also compots (I don’t know English word for it, it’s whole cherries in a lot of syrup, did the same with apples)… So yea we did pit them. The sirups and jams being my favourites… It was so good o drink in the winter or put on pancakes.

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  9. Helen's avatarHelen

    Your ballad is beautifully composed, love how you wove the happy in with the truly sad ~ the balance that created. A melody should come next, your lyrics deserve it.

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