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ARTS AND CULTURE

My 102 year old grandmother

  • 16 August 2016

 

Selected poems

 

 

Summertime

My 102 year old grandmotherIs she 2 or 102?She can be eitherMy grandmotherSometimes she looks at me in silence with wide naïve eyesOther times pearls of wisdom seep from her heart 

        Always put yourself first my beloved Isabella         Forgive and forget my sweetheart Isabella         Chocolate is your enemy. A good salad is your friend my precious Isabella         Don't do unto others what you don't want done to you my cherished Isabella         The early bird always catches the worm my brave Isabella

I don't want to part company as I hold her warm handShe understands meShe completes meNow that my mother her daughter has left us behind.

It is summerWe are sitting side by side on a wooden seatOut in the family courtyardOlder than time itselfSunset serenely colours the skiesCicadas sing their tunesThe church bells welcome the town into the evening serviceMy cousins will be expecting my family and I for our last supperBefore we fly back to Melbourne.

It's been a glorious holidayPacked with pleasurable moments sunbathing by the seasideShopping and feastingBut the most incredible experience has been with my grandmother.Sitting on the bench I want her to look away first but she doesn'tWe can feel my mother, her daughter up aboveWe sit still staring at each otherHer eyes become my eyesBecome my mother's eyesI am my grandmotherAnd my motherAnd starting this summer never again to be just me

— Isabella Fels

 

 

Letter to Granny. 1910

 

'Thank you very much for sending me that nice silver nib box for my birthday present.'

I really liked the nice silver nib boxAnd I suppose that Aunt Lassie did too.When I read my letter years onI wondered about the nibsI loved writing lettersAnd the nibs scratched across the page.My writing was neat, and letters upright.

When you find old letters,The memory gets a real shake-up,I can see father and Peter with BenIn the sulky gone to find the dead lambsIt was a cold April wind, a birthday wind.

Now I understand people don't write letters,And nibs hide in antique shops,Alongside my old typewriter.

You really hope their nibmanship hasn't died.

— Peter Gebhardt

 

Isabella Fels is a Melbourne poet and writer. She has been published in various publications including Positive Words, The Big Issue and The Record.

Peter Gebhardt is a retired school principal and judge. His most recent book is Black and White Onyx: New and Selected Poems 1988–2011.