Monday, 16 September 2013

Matrilineal Monday – Nanna’s poems

Nanna with Mum

A couple of reasons to post under this theme today:
- it’s my Mum’s birthday – Happy Birthday Mum!
- I have some of her mother’s (my Nanna’s poems) to share

There are many more of these poems that Mum hasn’t been able to see because another member of her family has them and doesn’t want to share.  

For quite some time now, she has been telling Mum that her daughter is going to publish them in a book with illustrations.
Mum is not getting any younger (sorry Mum) and wonders if she will ever see these poems. She only wants a copy of them.
Any hints for us?

What do you do with a family member who won’t share family history or mementos?

Here are a couple of the poems my Mum does have, 
written by her mother while still in her teens:
(along with a few photos taken around that time)

Nov 11th 1923
Lovely Flowers
How many flowers are left to bear
The passing of the spring
O why are they so sweet left there
To waste the happiness they bring

If but the blustering wind would bring
Some petals from another flower
And so make life a different thing
If only for an hour

So very soon do they depart
From all the earthly sound
And droop a weary withered heart
Upon the sodden ground.

When Autumn wind comes whispering through the trees
It touches all the leaves and turns them reddish gold
Methinks tis such a kindly thing to do
When days are getting cold
Little red-gold leaves flutter while you may
Soon the winter winds will come and scatter you away.

Feb 21st 1925
Through My Window
Through my window comes a whispering moaning sound
And the faint sweet breath of pine
It awakens memories of years ago
Of a home that was yours and mine

Through my window shine the stars
Each like a dear little twinkling eye
Eyes that keep toll of the happenings of night
You are but the reminder of nights gone by

Through my window I bid you goodnight
I hear no more the pines nor the stars of night I trace
I only hear the lingering sweetness of your voice
And see through a mist of tears – your face.

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