Instructions
Do the preparation exercise first and then read the poem. Don't worry if you don't understand every single word. Then do the exercises to check your understanding.
Preparation
Do the preparation exercise first and then read the poem. Don't worry if you don't understand every single word. Then do the exercises to check your understanding.
Not Yet My Mother
by Owen Sheers
Yesterday I found a photo
of you at seventeen,
holding a horse and smiling,
not yet my mother.
The tight riding hat hid your hair,
and your legs were still the long shins of a boy's.
You held the horse by the halter,
your hand a fist under its huge jaw.
The blown trees were still in the background
and the sky was grained by the old film stock,
but what caught me was your face,
which was mine.
And I thought, just for a second, that you were me.
But then I saw the woman's jacket,
nipped at the waist, the ballooned jodhpurs,
and of course the date, scratched in the corner.
All of which told me again,
that this was you at seventeen, holding a horse
and smiling, not yet my mother,
although I was clearly already your child.
Copyright © 2005 Owen Sheers. Reproduced by permission of the author c/o Rogers,
Coleridge & White Ltd., 20 Powis Mews, London W11 1JN
This poem was selected as part of the BritLit project. To find out more about BritLit visit our TeachingEnglish site.
Have you ever seen photos of your parents when they were younger? Did they look like you?
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