Michael Anthony
Michael Anthony
Nov 10, 2023

Grandma's Cellar

My brother and I captured insects
to watch them squirm on the tin cellar door.
A merciless ordeal in the humid summer heat.
A cruelty of young boys I’m still trying to forgive.

Down in the cellar, were dust-covered shelves
lined with jars of fruits and vegetables of all kinds.
The dark and the dust and the musty smell
fired our imaginations. Instead, we saw shrunken heads,
creatures, goblins, and frights of all kinds
desperate to escape from their green glass prisons.

Spooked, we ran up from the cellar and into the kitchen.
There, beside a boiling pot, were empty green jars.
My brother and I could hardly contain our excitement!
We were going to have some of the ghoulies from below
grandma was preparing for our dinner around six!

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: San Francisco Bay Area - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Bukowski

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Comments

Geezer

My grandmother didn't have a cellar, but she did have a sort of sidewise hatch that led to a brick-and-mortar space beyond the kitchen wall, and as I remember it extended out over the coalbin on the second story apt. building where we lived. It was creepy and had lots of spiders and woodrats and old dishes; and stuff that was used on holidays was kept there. Anyhow, this brought me back to about 8yrs. old. and the best years I remember from childhood. ~ Geez.
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