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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Poet: Ken Jordan Poem: Way Down South Edited by: Sparkle Jordan written: June/2014 Growing up way down south in Florida - was like a fiesta - We would go to the beach, swim, run, and play in the white sand - and soon as we get home, It was time to raid the sugarcane farm - Life was sweet, in the Sunshine State - Each day was better than the day before - We had good fun times - pushing our box cars, made from old veggie crate's - And Roller Scooters, made from scrap wood - We had roller skates, the metal one's, with metal wheels....... We made Kites, from brown paper bags, (using a little flour,) and water for glue - Kids would shoot arrows out in the fields, with bow's made from bamboo - We picked berry's from the Chinaberry tree, to use as ammunition, in our homemade Pop-guns - We played hide and seek, and hopscotch, spinning top, and marbles too - We even tried to DoubleDutch, just to flirt with the girls - We had fun playing, to see who whistled the loudest, and the one who won, would get a free icy cup, from snow cone man..... We would blow into our hands, making horn-like sounds, pretending that we played in the band - And we would play, Rock, Paper, Scissors..... saying: "HotDog!" after each win - And just before dusk, we would run down the dirt road, at the corner of Tunis and Miller street, to hear older boys, harmonize do-wop songs, under the lamp light - Growing up in Florida, was the best time of my life - We had: No Internet, No iPhone, No iPad, No Tablet or Lap Top - Play Station, Wee, or XBox - We were humble, and grateful for what we had - I remember when gas stations, were called filling stations, where the attendant came out, and cleaned your car windows, checked the oil level, and put air in your tires if needed - When we got sick from a cold or fever - we rarely seen a doctor - Big Mama's old folk medicine remedy was the cure all for unfavorable health - My Grandfather, was a business man - he sold candy, cookies, and frozen cups - And rode a bicycle, through town, with a big basket on the handle bars - He picked up clothes to wash, and iron - He also, rented apartments, six that he built on his own - Life was good way back then - I can still hear Peanut man, walking down the gravelled road on Carver street in Pensacola, with his back sack full of peanuts,..... yelling, "Peanuts!..." "Get your roasted peanuts here!" So did watermelon man, ice cream man - milk man and Ice man - They all came through the neighbourhood, singing out what they had to sell - Those were the days, that want come again, Way down south in Florida -
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