It's All ....in the Pocket

trying...something different... dedicated to those who ( Beat the Streets )

 

Pockets…

 

Yellowed pouch with the torn corner

in the front of Grams’ housecoat

where she tucked crumpled Kleenex, coupons and scriptures

folded by gentle mighty hands,that sought Gods advice

Praying one of these …would change things

 

 

Pockets…

Spaces that grow, between Mothers and daughters

we're talking chasms here

spaces deep enough, for all manner of life's doings to fall in

and fill it enough to s-t-r-e-t-c-h it wide

till it groans

but not high enough to climb out

 

Traded-up for jeans

with tiny wanna-be pockettas

so tight

she had to carry  house keys, and pacifiers

as she pushed baby carriages along the sidewalk of

Mothers' predictions

 

Followed by second chances

As she slid notebooks and term papers into diaper bags

Next to Grandmas coupons tucked in with a few dollars for the baby

on the way to night school

 

Until….

Business plans and meeting notes

filled Coach briefcases and bags

That cost more than the rent

Of that old apartment

 

Pockets …

Born to grow a boy to a man

Big enough to hold slingshots, Marbles, baseball cards and lucky talismans

Gave way …To sag jeans

That held love notes, Condoms

and  failed quizzes to be signed

 

Grew badder …

Stuffed with  cell phones and 9mm pistols

overheated by fifteen years of rage and despair

 

Till they overflowed ,with folded funeral handouts

As he went to church with his boys, for the very first time

they cried like men

 reaching ….to take the Kleenex from Grams mighty hands

 

Pockets ……

Hoodies Stuffed with cold hands, dreams and late-nights

As he hustled across campus for finals

 

Evolved to, sewn-shut pockets

of expensive suits,hung on brass hangers

In offices

He....called the shots in.

 

Pockets…

He counted them…. the pouches, behind the pews for Bibles and hymnals

As he walked down the aisle

to stand before Grams for the last time

Kneeling only long enough to tuck a folded yellow scripture

into the pocket of her dress

He took his seat next to the woman with the coach bag

Kissed her forehead,took the baby from her arms

And thought.......

        How prayer changes things.

 

 

Blesssssss

 

 ©2007 bythewurd J Hampton

Reviews

[Emily B]

Never really looked at pockets quite this way before. . . I was struck by the frayed pocked on the granny's housecoat. That's an image that really drew me in. The circularity of the pockets struck me and I wondered what Gram thought of the in-between times. But, then, maybe we are told by that line about how prayer changes things.

Looking forward to seeing how this progresses. . .

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Pockets full of memories! A truly inspiring composition, with poetic imagery and a unique stylised format. I found great empathy with this - excellent.

Has to be saved to favourites!

God's Blessing
Phillozofee

[Andromeda]

i like the idea of the pockets. it's great already, but if you want to make it better, you might organize it a little.

[Barry S. Maltese]

Pockets . . . that hold the world for those who they cling. Filled with necessities, hopes, and dreams. Our future can almost be forecasted by what we hold in our pockets . . . be it a gun, or an important phone number. . . . i truly enjoyed this poem, especially how you ended it. So beautiful, and sweet! Yes, prayers have been known to move mountains, and hearts.
Great write, my faithfilled friend. You never disappoint me.

[~ Tex]

I like your topic and write. I look forward to the finished product with image.