Arpege perfume that smelled so sweet
Sitting on a footstool while you sat at the head of the dining room table
Singing Irish songs from your childhood and reciting a limerick or two
You even taught me “Pog Mo Thoin”
Which I am not so sure was fitting for a child
But I had lots of pleasure with that “Kiss my Irish ass”
We snuck behind the old Oak tree in our favourite park
Took a puff and waited for our heads to spin
Marijuana feels so fine
Then back to our Friday night coffee shop
To listen to the hottest music
We thought that we were cool
Posts
sure brings back memories for me! we would go to the laser light show at midnight where they played Emerson Lake and Palmer and Pink Floyd. It was the happening thing on a Saturday to do while you were stoned. It sounds like you were pretty young for this, is that the hinge?
ReplyDeleteVery nice trip down into your memories, and I liked the way you took both and found a commonality within them.
ReplyDeleteJim,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and in answer to the question. I was way too young to be smoking pot. I was only 13. But my parents never knew. And I suppose that is the hinge.
Pamela
Cynthia,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and commenting. I am glad you liked my little trip. My mom was really quite the lady with her funny limericks and songs, but she would have been really disappointed with me if she knew about me smoking pot with my friends.
Pamela
Some great memories there. Excellent.
ReplyDeleteAnthony,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the compliment. I am glad you stopped by.
Pamela
You weaved your two parts well together, and they flow easily into each other. I like how you progress from innocent, to naughty, to illicit (with Kiss my Irish Ass moving into the pot-smoking episode). Well done.
ReplyDelete-Nicole
Nice work. lol Fun to read.
ReplyDeleteNicole,
ReplyDeleteIt is always an encouragement to read your comments. I was feeling like it really didn't do this prompt correctly. This was my second attempt at doing this. The first was about my dad and it ended up more like a confession than a hinge. So I wrote this at the last minute. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
Pamela
Joyce,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and commenting. I am glad that this was fun for you. I remember reading your profile on RWP and you are an Irish lass yourself.
Pamela
Oh, I think you got it just right.
ReplyDeleteBarbara,
ReplyDeleteNow I take that as a compliment. I really enjoyed your poem as well. Thanks for stopping by.
Pamela
I like the childhood memory of your mother and your confession at the end.
ReplyDeleteKaren,
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by and commenting. I am glad you liked it.
Pamela
I loved the tone of this! So light and fun and wicked. My husband is learning Gaelic so he would probably know, but what does, "Pog Mo Thoin" mean? If it's something dirty, I promise to be adequately shocked. ;)
ReplyDeleteCool!
ReplyDelete:D
my arms around myself won't let me down
from Therese -- Pamela, I think your poem is very faithful to the prompt, very obedient! For me, it works really well because the mother, too, indulged a mild rebellion with the curse, just as you indulged a mild rebellion with the pot. Since St. Pat's Day is approaching, I found this poem especially affecting. And I keep wondering about that one telling detail -- no father in the picture, but a mother at the head of the table...
ReplyDeleteGautami,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and commenting.
Pamela
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteTherese,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the compliment. It is always an inspiration to hear from you. My dad was there, but in the background. He was the serious type. But my mom was the entertaining and social one. She loved to sing, tell a story and just make you feel comfortable. I miss her dearly.
Pamela
Pamela, how sweet those innocent rebellions of youth, those times when an older sibling or cousin or neighbor or aunt took us along for something daring and risky, something that made us see our place in the world just a little bit differently... Thanks for sharing such a wonderful memory!
ReplyDeletePaul,
ReplyDeleteThanks for complimenting and commenting. The first part is about my mom and how we spent many an evening together when I was small. The second part is about me and my high school friends and how we thought we were cool for being rebels. Again thanks for stopping by.
Pamela
I like the hint of the subversive about this poem.It doesn't fit into that awful apple pie, Doris Day family image which I find nauseating. Arpege was my first perfume.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the Irish expression.
The next time I collide with someone Irish I'll use it.
Great capturing of a rich time. Thanks for putting us there with you.
ReplyDeleteRall,
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting and complimenting me. I loved your poem as well.
Pamela
Allan,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the compliment and stopping by.
Pamela
Hi
ReplyDeleteNice use of sensual images. (Glad to hear that it's Flaubert the dog, I struggled thru Madame B.)
Marian,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by and commenting. Yeah, I love my dog!
Pamela
Exquisite. The details are so fine and the connection is perfect. I can't imagine - ever - not missing my mother who's been gone for a long, long time.
ReplyDeleteSusan,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much! I also truly miss my mom. She was quite the lady. I enjoyed your poem also. Thanks for stopping by.
Pamela