Thursday, December 16, 2010

Low Maintainance



High Maintainance babies are everywhere!
Babies need a lot of care.
They scream! They dribble! They often mess!
Yet this one exuded happiness!
Look through Google and you will find
That this one was of a different kind!
In every picture he's beguiling!
Sleeping sweetly, sweetly smiling.
Or else he's gazing out at us,
Without one sign of baby-fuss!
Now babies cry to show a need;
To express a desire to have a feed!
How could Mary ever tell,
Without that all-insistant yell?
Motherhood was all delight;
Not one sign of a broken night!
New young mothers everywhere
Envy that Low Maintainance care!


'Tonight, Berthe'
Said Mama, decisively, as always,
'We go to the dance'.
Berthe was folding the clean laundry
Fresh from the windy line.
She drew in her breath
And waited….
'The Minister tells me
It will be very suitable
As a young girl's first dance,
And I think you're of an age.'
'Of an age', means 'ready'
Thought Berthe.
And Berthe was ready, so ready!
'The cream dress will do'
Continued Mother.
'And you can put your hair up.'
Already the dance in the Church Hall
Was assuming the proportions
Of Cinderella's Ball!
As Berthe laid out her cream dress
And shone her black pumps
She felt the excitement mounting.
As she carefully brushed her hair
And caught it up behind her ears
The blood in her veins started dancing.
All by itself!
'The Dance of Life'
Thought Berthe.
'This is the beginning!
Tonight I'll find out.'
'Find out what, exactly?'
Said a quiet voice in her head.
'Tonight I'll meet a handsome man.
He will smile at me
With flashing teeth.
I shall smell the pomade on his hair!
I shall be close enough
To count the hairs on the backs of his hands!
He'll whisper into my hair
When Mama isn't looking!
He'll press me close
And tell me I'm adorable!
And how we'll dance!
A Bolero!
A Pavane!
Or even a Saltarello!
How we'll circle, how we'll spin!
How we'll fall,
Into each others arms!
'The Dance of Life!'
When they arrived, the Minister
Was winding-up the gramophone.
'Ah! A waltze!
How very suitable!' said Mama.
One two three, one two three, one two three.
'Dance with Uncle Arve'
Commanded Mama.
'He'll take you round.'
Berthe was clutched to a portly stomach
And perambulated.
One two three, one two three, one two three.
The gramophone began to wind-down.
The music went off-key.
'The Dance of Death'
Thought Berthe.
'The Dance of Death'
They went home early.
After all,
It was Berthe's first dance.


Kristen Haskell said...

Merry Christmas

Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall said...

stay blessed...

Berowne said...

Clever takeoff on the prompt. Congratulations.

gautami tripathy said...

What great poems!

dead man and his shoe painting

Lyn said...

A really lovely poem..Imagine having had the perfect baby!!
And that handsome stranger across the room..come and gone!! Sweet...

Tess Kincaid said...

Wonderful "low maintenance" angle, Brenda.

Sue J said...

I enjoyed them both :)
Have a lovely Christmas.

Other Mary said...

Great Low Maintainance! Every new mom longs for a silent night!

The Reason You Come said...

Funny and witty take on the prompt! It had me laughing. True, mothers must be wishing for low-maintenance babies, but I don't think they exist!

Thom Gabrukiewicz said...

very lyrical, both. Have a very Merry Christmas.

Carrie Van Horn said...

Hope you have a wonderful Christmas Brenda! :-)

Coloring Outside the Lines said...

Nice mag, Brenda! Cinderella's Ball provoked memories of my first dance- the excitement of it all.

Unknown said...

Finally getting around to everyone. Loved both poems. The first was very creative. How true, such a perfect baby. How did Mary ever know the needs?