I recall my cape of hip-length tresses
Wavy locks swirling to guitar and drum
Brazen curls snaking around my jaw
Skirting across a lawn of auburn leaves
Igniting the tinder of other girls’ envy
Catching the sideways desire of boys
Bound with braids of stolen daisies
Wriggling out of tortoise shell clips
Thick locks fatiguing rubber bands
Youthful rebellion straddling my head
Besting the nascent rioter of my heart
Too young for grown up restrictions
I dream the tiara of teardrop pearls
Illumined by a pose of silver arabesques
Clutching jasmine white ballerina tulle
Cloud-like on my pate, glancing shoulders
Secreting vows we’d already pledged
As I waltz the aisle to my betrothed
I did not wear that jeweled tiara
But a twist of roses and baby’s breath
Garlanding my hair like whispered vows
Cascade of satin ribbons sighing after me
Nor on a glade of strewn petals and vines
But over a trampled path to my beloved
I remember the bent clasp of mindless jobs
Friday coins dropped in my blistered palm
Hungry for more than burned rice and coffee
Fighting for time to study, for rights of others
Struggling to hone my wits, find a moral core
Years of adulthood forced upon my head
Brutal decades of wifedom and motherhood
Of employee and citizen, friend and neighbor
Learning to share with ill and hungry strangers
The ones who plead for virtue within me
Begging my twin gifts of sorrow and charity
Now I seek only the crown of a good name
Just a thought 70
Photograph courtesy of Pixabay
Comments on: "Tiara" (31)
The imagery pulls you along like a quiet river current, then suddenly crashes you over a poignant waterfall — but allows you survive, cleansed.
That’s the best I can express the emotional effect of your poem on me. Thank you for sharing it, Sharon.
By the way, have you had a chance to read “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues”, by Tom Robbins?
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Wow, Paul, that’s a very powerful reaction to my poem. Thank you for sharing.
I’ve read most of Tom Robbins’ books including Cowgirls, which I read twice but a very long time ago. Do you see a connection between his book and the poem?
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It’s a beautiful, moving poem.
No connection at all between the poem and “Cowgirls”. It’s just that I discovered early this morning that I had a small windfall of cash on hand, and so I got it into my head to give away two copies of the novel to interested readers. Basically, it’s a random drawing sort of thing. Just wanted you to know about it so if you hadn’t read the novel, you’d at least have a chance at a free copy.
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What a generous gift, Paul. Whoever gets one of those copies is in for a treat!
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I love this poem. I only quibbled with one line–“brutal decades of wifedom and motherhood”. Vibrant maybe? Hmm…
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Very astute of you, Jacqui. It was a troublesome line to write. It was a troublesome time for us, so tough trying to work, often more than one job, and also be there for my kids when they needed me. I’ve always regretted how many times I couldn’t be the mother I wanted to be because the job demanded fiefdom loyalty. Sadly, my husband couldn’t grasp the depth of my worries (and exhaustion) and didn’t recognize the problem, so it created more problems. What I see of my close, younger friends also working, mothering, spousing, is that there are too many demands and not enough time-space for a deep breath. Thanks for your comment – gave me a chance to explain.
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Ah…the terrible passage of time. And you gave it to us as a show, not a tell. Bravo. The details differ for all of us, but I think most can relate to the picture of wistful maturity that you painted. : )
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Cathleen, I’m pleased you liked this poem. We do change as we grow up, trading childish dreams for the course of real life experiences, and then in our later years for a chance to give back for all we’ve enjoyed.
I really did think I’d wear a tiara when I married and walk down a rose covered aisle, but would not change anything that I actually lived. Now I’m just hoping people will think well of me, my ultimate crown.
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tx for lovely walk thru time & your lovely soul, dear Sharon ❤
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Thank you, Daal.
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Wow… I love this… each line is like a painted picture… like this one “Thick locks fatiguing rubber bands” … so awesome! Loved this! 😍
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I guess the artist in me shows up in my poetry. Thank you, Charlie, for your compliment.
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It definitely does! Every time! You couldn’t bat that visual artist down if you tried. But why on earth would you?! It makes your words so incredibly compelling! ❤️
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Thank you, Charlie, for getting it so well. ❤
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Beautifully written poem, like a song it takes us through the different stages in your
life. I had hair like that too, bellow my waist. 🙂 All the stages you tell are filled with
beauty and passion, at times sadness.
Just to say, I love this poem.
miriam
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A brief history of life, and though I’m old, I still intend to make my life more worthwhile, I still want to leave a decent legacy. Took me a long time to figure it out.
Thank you for reading, Miriam. I always appreciate your thoughts.
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What a cool poem!! Amazing to live your life through your hair and the identity it provides, Shari. I could visualize you swinging your waist length locks with abandon as a teen. I am one of those women who was teased mercilessly as a child for having curly red hair with a bad haircut. By my 20s and 30s, I had long, gorgeous curly red hair that people thought they could replicate from a bottle. As a woman inches from 60 with thick shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair, with just a few white strands, I stand proud and vindicated.
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I’ve got a huge grin on my face, Terri, and am always pleased when someone makes me smile. You really do have gorgeous hair but better, you have a wonderful, upbeat personality and it shines in every part of your blog as I’m certain it does in your life. You are wearing a crown of a good name.
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Beautiful! We should all strive to wear the crown of a good name.
Tweeted and shared, Sharon!
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Thank you, Jenna, you are generous in introducing me to a bigger world. You’ve always worn the crown of a good name – maybe a tiara and a flower also.
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Wow, Sharon – I just read this twice for the sheer joy of your imagery. Will probably be back to read again. There is a lot I can relate to (the long hair experience)…. The realities of adulthood and parenting. Thank you for sharing your own experience, so poetically.
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I think we’re of that generation of long-haired girls, Betty. I’m honored that you felt so much personal experience from this one.
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From a little girl’s dreams to a woman’s good name. One of the wonderful things about growing older, to me, is the coming into my own and the discovery of my deep values. Beautiful poem, Sharon.
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From playing with dolls to finding ourselves as adult women – we find and give much. Thank you, Diana.
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I used to have hair like that too, not curly but very long and full, and it drew lots of envy from the other girls who always wanted me to cut my hair, which I never did. 😉 Sadly stress and whatnot over the years made war on my hair and what used to be glorious is now very thin. I know we shouldn’t be vain but bald spots can trouble a woman’s ,soul quite a lot. 😯 Ah, well, there are worse things.
I love how you described the journey from childhood dreams to maturity, and all the compromises that includes in your poem. And Charlie is right – you can not bat that visual artist down, and your poetry is all the better for it!😊
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You’re very beautiful, Sarah, and your hair is lustrous. But the best part of you is the generous and creative soul at your core.
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Thank you, Shari! ❤
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Wonderful story illumined by the poetic imagery!
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A bit of autobiography – childish dreams morphed into adult reality, right? Probably true for many of us.
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Absolutely stunning! Love your imagery!
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Thank you – one of the first gifts I bought my granddaughter was a teeny, tiny tiara. Some dreams loop in our memories.
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