Hello Poetry Lovers
Welcome to the Poetry Handbag. These bags are such a part of our lives that I think they should be featured. They are as close to our hearts as our written poems, and their contents contain so much of us.
The clever and wonderful poet, Trisha Broomfield, has penned a very poignant piece about these vital accessories and the handbags she has loved and lost. Don’t we all remember them? And ones that were not gained at all.
Do read on, it’s a lovely piece
There was the tan bag my mum offered me but I declined
the real croc, snappy clasp, offered by an elderly aunt
but I declined
the suede patchwork with fringes
left that in the seventies
along with the long strap shoulder bag
with the Watney’s Red Barrel key ring
dangling from its tarnished loop
left behind too,
then there were the ‘I love the colour’ bags
the ‘go with everything’ bags
that never went with anything bags
the Italian bags bought with Lire
proper leather, brought out for ‘meetings’,
Zoom doesn’t call for handbags,
the summer white bag containing
a tiny purse
of your ashes
too late, I remembered.
Trisha Broomfield 6th April 2021
Wasn’t that such a beautiful piece?! Stirring so many memories and ending with that sadness and loss. I often mourn the handbags of yesteryear. They still have the power to haunt you.
Any pieces bag-related are most welcome.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s Watch this space for more poetry adventures.