April is Poetry Month: Day 2

 Warning

Nashua Volquez-Young, Pexels.com

By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

From: When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple, An Anthology of Short Stories and Poetry, Edited by Sandra Martz, Papier-Mache Press, 1987.

    This is the poem that started a movement: the Red Hat Society, now a global phenomenon.  It is a delicious poem...cheeky and irreverent and yet poignant and wise.  It is delightful to read out loud, but it may not even be my favorite poem in this anthology.  

    It turns out that Jenny Joseph wrote this poem in 1961 when she was 29 years old.  She went on to write 13 books of poetry and 6 children's books, but this is the one poem that is forever associated with her.  Purple, however, was never her favorite color.   Here is Jenny Joseph reading "Warning"

    I plan to spend more time with this book, even though I, like Jenny, have not filled my closet with purple.  As someone who is currently recuperating from another "adventure in aging" surgery; I could use the company of poets who speak of the experiences that come to us as the years inevitably pile on.  Poems like "I know the mirrors" by Janice Townley Moore, "Endurance" by Fran Portley and "Last Visit to Grandmother" by Enid Shomer.  Maybe too,  I'll buy some brandy, although I'll skip the summer gloves and satin sandals for the time being.