{"id":2956,"date":"2014-09-15T20:23:21","date_gmt":"2014-09-15T20:23:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/?p=2956"},"modified":"2015-03-27T00:52:05","modified_gmt":"2015-03-27T00:52:05","slug":"the-hand-me-down-poem-by-beatrice-evans","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/the-hand-me-down-poem-by-beatrice-evans\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hand Me Down. Poem by Beatrice Evans."},"content":{"rendered":"

 
\n 
\nHe wore the casual cardigan of his late father,
\npouting at the shoulders, it reminded him,
\nthat he had not yet reached the old man’s stature.
\n 
\nI could see how it comforted;
\n 
\nSmaller hands in oversize pockets
\n 
\nencountering nothing but tobaco fragments,
\n 
\nthe odor of nicotine, amid the softness of wool.
\n 
\n 
\nA missing button.
\nA long-standing elbow patch in
\nunmatched battleship gray,
\n 
\n 
\nIt had been around the world –
\n 
\nand through a war.
\n 
\n 
\nNever prone to shrinkage or fading,
\nit was still visibly – tough.
\nIn it he wore a new peace of mind.
\nThere, in the fire glow of his own fragility
\nhe seemed to take on warrior status –
\n 
\n 
\nIt had taken possession, and I could see
\nit would remain his too until the day he died,
\n 
\nor until some kind friend stole it away.
\n 
\n 
\n(C) Copyright Beatrice Evans.
\n <\/strong>
\n\"Bea<\/a>
\nBeatrice was born in County Durham England, a coal miners daughter.
\nShe now lives in sunny Queensland Australia with her husband, and four grown children where they have lived for over thirty years.
\nHappily retired. she feels that writing is the most relaxed she can be; something to pick up or put away as the mood takes her.
\nShe has published her own book of poems sonnets, and love poems and is partial to war history and nature. Is in several anthologies and has poems published in on-line magazines. When doing nothing at all she is out there gardening.
\n <\/strong>
\nrobin@artvilla.com<\/a> www.facebook.com\/PoetryLifeTimes<\/a>
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

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    He wore the casual cardigan of his late father, pouting at the shoulders, it reminded him, that he had not yet reached the old man’s stature.   I could see how it comforted;   Smaller hands in oversize pockets   encountering nothing but tobaco fragments,   the odor of nicotine, amid the softness … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2967,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[578,43],"tags":[18,136,3],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2956"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2956"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2956\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3784,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2956\/revisions\/3784"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2967"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2956"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2956"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2956"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}