Poetry the Beauty of Words…#50


The Last Chapter

Sylvia Plath

I believe that I have a “Sundry” of work filed away for safekeeping,
I begin writing at the age of five or six; I spent summers with my Aunt Vina,
my daddy’s sister. She introduced me to
libraries, Big Chief tablets and big pencils.
It was my job as she, my Uncle Wesley went to work, and I was under the
care of the housekeeper, to write what I had done during the day. Once dinner was over and bedtime neared, she
would gather everyone to listen to my accounting of the day.

Of course, I had help with many of the words, but at least one
paragraph emerged before the sun would set on Birmingham, Alabama. These sentences included a walk to the local
library, lunch, and the discovery of a dead bird, mouse or other creatures that
made my Aunt Vina put her hands over her…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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