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Introspection Childhood Poems | Introspection Poems About Childhood

These Introspection Childhood poems are examples of Introspection poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Introspection Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Intangible

There was change, a new pulse, cadence, rhythm and tone, where mother had been, the only place I had known Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams, and shelter my life, in the house I called home On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake, Windows cracked open, a wind coming in, .... Intangible nights, in the familiar old room, alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things... There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on, and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass, was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, a place that made sense And a place to fit in My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained. I was there at his side, when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings Somehow, it's alright, now, where shadows are new. As the sepia light, has changed and renewed I am older, and stronger, much older than then,... Although, still a moth seeking flame... batting my wings, resisting the change, ....again, and again
__________________________________ For Craig Cornish's Contest: "Chopped II" 11/3//14


Details | Prose | |

In Shades of Black and White

In so many shades of black and white, I find you after all these years;
leaning against that old weathered clapboard schoolhouse,
high on the hill overlooking the Fundy Bay, 
and again, I inhale the fragrance of those wild sea salt roses
and feel the ocean mist upon my face, as I look out at those 
sunbeams dancing on the tops of those rolling waves.

There you are, in your hand-me-down dress,
with socks pooling around the tops of your shoes.
There, third row to the far left, sporting a home made bowl haircut,
and a smile of utter joy. 

After all years, in so many shades of black and white,
 I find that little lost girl, and I am a kid again.

In so many shades of black white, I find the true colors that are me. 

Author:  Elaine C. George
Written:  March 26, 2015

Authors Note:
I wanted to enter this in the contest, but it was too late.

The inspiration behind this prose, comes from a snapshot 
taken 61 years ago, which somehow made its way back to me via 
a relative and the modern miracle of facebook.


Details | Free verse | |

Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.


Details | Sijo | |

Thistle Solitude-- Visual No 1

I had briefly caught sight of the other side of yesterday, blinded by the sun, and weaving through the deep, thistle solitude. I'll carve a path through thorns and flowers, to reach an old memory.
Inspired by Andrea's Contest: Glorious Sijo Fields 1/31/15 Visual Number 1


Details | Free verse | |

Wounded

Come and gone like small twister like the cloud of debris he’s left. Echoes of Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen blow through the cobwebs in memory. Left over coffee cups replacing Transformers still dumped in the attic. Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less, lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse. The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done the never paid chauffeur collapses… Ah, to have him always near, So, each kiss was not quite so dear. The last fair maid on parade has wandered across the home front, wondering about her predecessor, still tacked with magnets to the fridge, still part of my heart and his… Sons…they say, do not cause such angst. Couldn’t prove it by this mother. This maternal blimp of unused helium was not permitted a girl child. One did come and fleetingly leave before formed. We’ll never know the sweetness of her. Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son.. into the mist as his Father’s has… to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need, for to do anything else, would be to rub salt in an open wound.
Poet: D. Guzzi *the day after Christmas


Details | Rhyme | |

Little Yellow Socks

* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks.

Little Yellow Socks
       by Amy Swanson  12/5/2008

Little yellow socks
running down the hall
"Slow down with those socks on,"
I'd yell... too late, the fall!

Little yellow socks
padding softly late at night
climbing up into my lap
one more hug, out goes the light.

Little yellow socks
follow me with squeals of laughter;
Oh how she loves to run in them,
Begging me to come chase after!

Little yellow socks...
now not being worn a lot.
My little girl is growing up,
No longer just a tot.

Little yellow socks
will be cast aside someday
I must guard these precious moments;
in my heart, they'll safely stay.


Details | Lyric | |

pseudo artistry

Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears,
Over your hypocrisy and useless years.
Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane.
It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain.

But, escape artists aren't artists at all.

When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be
Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees.
Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend
The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend

Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.


Details | Free verse | |

Take Me Where?

Take me home

Where the sunsets are golden
And God’s gossamer curtains ripple between the mountain tops

Where the seas are clear as the sky above
And the waters tickle the shoreline

Take me home

Where the food is simple
And tastes all the better

Where the cabs run for cheap
And smell a little funny

Take me home

Where childhood was magical
And to this day feels like a dream

Where make-believe was the truth 
And the future did not exist


Take me home

Where the nights never end
And laughter is our language

Where I drown in myself
And moonlight shines behind my eyes

Take me home…
I’ve lost my way


Details | Quatrain | |

‘The Airplane Crossing Clear-Blue Sky'

My white-washed bars surrounded me -
they held me as I slept;
they soothed me when the days were long,
and mother’s blue-eyes wept.

A baby girl, six months or less,
awakened from my sleep -
stood up legs as sure as hope;
as strong as flat is steep.

My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail
so I could peek outside –
the bluest sky I’d ever seen,
As tall as it was wide;

came into view - between the blue,
an airplane gliding by,
its smoky streamer like a flag,
across my memory’s sky...

The memory is a simple one -
a window, sky, and plane -
but in my heart, it's heaven's door
and there it shall remain.

I’ve hung it on my memory’s wall
Between that life and this –
It covers every hole I’ve dug
In sorrow’s vast abyss.

This picture brings the special peace
I knew when I was small –
Where mother’s just beyond the door,
and waiting for my call…



*Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory 
from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it 
always...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Park -- Part One

Pigeons flutter in the park
eating refuse from the grass.
Noon comes; the hours pass.
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Silence reigns throughout the park.
A crumpled headline, a forgotten toy,
lifeless, do not hear a far-off bark.
In the park, not a single little boy.
Midnight comes; the hours go --
soon, the sky begins to glow...
morning breaks, and with it, sound.
In the park begins the morning round.
White skeletons of benches -- slats --
in all the wintry parks of Age
fill up in morning. Deserted flats,
each with the aspect of a cage,
become an unused, waiting gauge
that measures dull and wasted years --
floods of loneliness -- rivers of fears...
The weak and battered, pallid crowd
which, daily, parks ingest
speak in muted tones; but loud
is the message all suggest.
The clangor of the beaten Belles,
trampled in the slime of years,
entreats the mind to plug its ears;
yet, if it will, it hears...
memories, perhaps, keep active still
the shriveled and the loosened flaps
that are the mouths of all the Bills --
reduced to gray and ugly gaps...
Down the graveled pathways come
children bent on carefree play.
Belles, though silent, are not dumb,
nor will the Bills forego their say.
But warnings fall on ears too deaf;
around are eyes too blind to see.
And so the tots, too young for Death,
play on and on till time for tea.
Day after day after day
children come and children play.
Pigeons flutter in the park;
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Once more, deep silence claims the park.
Midnight hours come and go.
The sky again assumes a glow.
Wind stirs dead leaves to rustle.
Starts again the aimless bustle
of the battered, weak, and infirm-eyed:
those whom living failed -- who died
but still must play their signal role
of unloved, friendless, unhailed Old;
who gather daily in the park
to envy tots their vital spark --
the hope, the promise in their eyes --
before it fades, before it dies.
But tots at play -- the young, the bold --
must laugh and sing -- cannot be told
that youth's not long and Time is cold.
Time devours -- a ravenous beast --
and men are the courses at his feast.
Some he swallows in their prime,
 On some he waits too long a time:
 these rancid morsels, Time's midnight snack,
explore their memories. They hie them back
 to that old moment, deepest black, 
when they first dared to know -- and first said --
that Time's the master all men dread.
(Please read The Park -- Part Two, which is a continuation of
this poem...due to space limitations)


Details | Free verse | |

Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of 
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a 
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, 
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India 
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to 
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
 the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you



Details | Free verse | |

Dreams of Louisiana

Dimly lit, I sit
in a Mexican kitchen
near the Tropic of Cancer.
A TV is tuned
to inane noises;
dogs at my feet,
oranges in a bowl
on a table:
a specific place and time.
And I am dreaming --
dreaming of Louisiana
in twilight hours --
dreaming of short winter days and
summer's green, bright mornings.
Country time, mostly empty,
was quiet, seldom interrupted
by human utterance;
but my busy brain
was full of fantasy
and subterfuge.
The world was new, was big,
was yet to be explored;
possibilities seemed endless.
Oak and cypress,
willows, pines -- and magnolias --
were all around, and cane fields
stretched for miles.
The bayous that had always been there
were there still.
Change was slow in coming
and childhood lasted long.
I dream now of Louisiana:
poignant vignettes... dreamy glimpses...
and all those slowly fading
recalled moments
of the past...


Details | Free verse | |

I'm Your King

A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Dandelions Were Listening

I never did the 
''He loves me not....
He loves me'' game
with flowers.
I already knew nobody loved me
so why should I listen 
to a stupid flower? 

I did make wishes 
on dandelions 
after the bloom died
and it was tiny spikes of fluff
waiting to blow away 
till next year.

I hated wasting my time
but I couldn't resist.
I figured
''If there's even a small hope
that this will work....
I've got to try! ''

I would find a spot
where nobody could see me
and I'd whisper
my one wish
the same wish
every time.

Thousands of dandelions 
blown away 
by my pleading breath.

I never told a soul
my wishes.
Until now.
I wished to be happy
one day...
with a husband 
who loves me
and kids who love me.
I wished so hard...

I never thought
those dandelions
were listening.


Details | Free verse | |

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN A parent's lament

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN   A parent's lament

Children
   	with Wings
    	and Talons
Pounce on the fleetest of hearts
 their
 
Memories	

Soar        
                 over the
                 Blood Transfusions
    		Hospital frights of prematurity
             			 of EMS sirens
                              HIV trembling tests 
   		 Asthma Tents
   	
                Breathless Worry atop cloud kissed Trees
   		
                Sleepless Nights of bully battles
  		
                Struggles with Education’s foes
   		
                 Mad Escapes from Fathers of Violence
   		
                 The teary wave good bye for fledgling endeavors
			Day night day night day night…unending
   	and

Land  on

      Slight Imperfections and Imagined Slights
            or the

Shortage of Cash
        for  
                    Trips
                    Technoshit
                    New Shoes 
                    New Cars
	or other
Dreams
                         You 
                      Couldn’t
                         Buy.
 


Details | Free verse | |

Into the Weeds

Young girls’ bright eyes widened Behold the wild wheat field Playground for imaginative innocents Gracefully swaying golden stalks Feathered with grain centers Shooting up like ostrich plumes Enhanced by the aroma Of tantalizing potato pancakes Wafting from Miss Anna’s kitchen Such was the ideal venue For hide-and-go-seek The catch of a summer’s day Chewing on a chicken leg Hiding low in duck-walk form Produced a lesson in nature Black ants erected colonies Tiny birds sang overhead Warm sun bathed the golden paradise Plans dashed through my mind When I grow up, I want to live here Right here in the amber field Thatched weeds can be my roof Rain will not seep through As I play host to God’s creatures I’d want for naught Grain could sustain me As wind-swept shadows dispelled the heat Two decades passed swiftly Before my eager return To revisit my playground of youth Stinging sadness overcame me As I stared at an empty mall That had replaced the weeds What is there about a bulldozer That doesn’t like a meadow And buries forever a young girl’s dreams But I will always remember Gracefully swaying, bowing stalks With grain centers that shot up like ostrich plumes Casting shadows on little girls’ faces And lives
*For PD's free verse challenge


Details | Rhyme | |

My Parent

My Parent

The rules said “one parent not two”
Good for me as I only had you
No selection; no one to choose
Who is this parent; just follow the clues

Next rule; write something “profound” 
Something good or something that makes you frown
This one was easy 
Considering all you ever said was greasy

“You stupid _____”
This one was rich
“Go get the belt”
Not satisfied till there was a welt 
The pain is still felt

How about “you swine”
Became a preference in time
Not “go to bed”
Followed by a blow to the head
So hard could have become brain dead

Your scars are still here
Your pain I still wear
Your mistakes I still bare
Your voice I still hear

Your secrets I now declare
Your presence I no longer fear
Your wrong doings I am aware
Your hate is replaced with tender loving care

Did you follow the clues
Who's this in reference to
Someone you want to be related to
Perhaps it’s someone you already do
This is my parent… I wish it were untrue!

Lay


**For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
* Honorable Mention







Details | Free verse | |

Untwisted

Sometimes the memories won’t fade 
         All the places we have seen
         All the prices we have paid 
The memories of the happy as well as the sad 
            The people we’ve lost
           The friends that we had 
Some memories just seem like a ghost 
I always lost everyone that I loved the most 
The wind would just carry them away 
             Along with my tears 
            And my ability to pray
    I wonder how far is heaven from here?
              How many more heartaches 
                 How many more tears 
              I wonder how far it is away
Because I have so many things that I wish to say 
To all the people that I loved and I lost 
             I’m not even tripping 
             My heart paid the cost 
The reaper rode the river in a bikers disguise 
I’ll never forget the fear in my mother’s eyes 
    As he drug her under and then let her go 
Through my four year old veins hate started to grow 
My eyes were blind my ears were deaf 
After that I forgot  
           There was anything left  
Karma is like poker for it is bound to luck 
When I was just a boy 
God through me under the truck 
Of all the things in life we feel 
   We are all bound to God’s will 
Passion is a doorway between love and hate 
    God is the dealer in the game of fate 
              Our place is not to question why 
                       For if we do our faith will die 
            The deeper we hate the deeper we love 
            I was gifted wisdom by the Lord above 
                    Every gift comes at a price 
A world of experience behind my advice 
     Every smile holds a lifetime of pain 
Nothing that happens should happen in vein 
                         It is our choice that which we do 
 Know in your heart these words are true 
The harder we fall the further we climb 
             No ones life is totally sublime 
Illusion after illusion will be offered to you 
                 But only the living word is true 
The living word that beats in your heart 
Will keep you safe as the world falls apart 
Through the pain of a boy watching his mother die 
It’s never to late to kiss the sky
A man of faith who could never give up 
Please come break my bread and share in my cup 
By the time our journey is through 
                      I’ll share all I am with you 
          Hopefully somewhere in my words you’ll see 
              ---Untwisted is truly the way to be---



Details | Blank verse | |

Tender Child

        
A very tender child, aware, knowing 
Lives in your consciousness
On your lips, in your heart,
Part of you in every way
Waiting, waiting patiently 
To be free, the right combinations
Sequence that every locked door knows
ciphering a message as complex
completing the DNA sequence
and replicate! Do you not know!                                                                                 Replicate, ciphering to transform, to live
becoming alive again and again
old as the ageless mystery of the bells
ringing and singing the song of life
The waiting heart stitches the words
in some special sacramental order
known only to those who wish to know
And when the last bell is struck
They are no longer words
but alive and in becoming alive
they simply spread their wings
and fly away


Details | Free verse | |

Prayers

Perched high upon the escarpment
of sandstone rubble, the boy sat,
shaded from the rising of the sun
in the shadow of Kings.
Sharp eyed he preyed 
upon the tourist below, and to his God Allah.
His path was a treacherous one
looped and twisting like the snakes of ochre gold
shone cresting the brow of Ramesses
in the unearthly Valley of the Kings;
far from the osprey and marsh grass
of the beloved Nile.

Below the boy, on a zigzag path 
between the mouth-like openings to the netherworld,
tourists swarm, ants on a mound of honey stone
suckers of sweetness, oblivious, 
as they had done for centuries.

He sat as his father before him
hunkered down knees to chest
the vulture heraldic creature of Upper Egypt
death eater, little had changed except
now the robbers wore blue jeans and not the hajab.
He had earned his small bit
of the twentieth century..hawking


Details | Free verse | |

You're The Weak One

YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE


You’re the weak one, you’re a bully.  The weak one is definitely
not me.

The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.

So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.

Your weakness began on your first bullying day.

Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.

I actually feel a little sorry for you.

Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.

Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate. 

Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?

Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect, 
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.

	Al Johnson
 


Details | Lyric | |

Human Being

I walk a mile to see the self in me that I believe to be, 
I knew the road I choose to lay my head to sleep is called my home,
times in need I could barely see that in myself I will set free, 
the act that held me down, something about me I could not see,
I lived a life when I decide that day I said that I don't care, 
so young, so bright, I dim my light, traumatized for me to share,
love me please regardless of what you heard and what you have seen, 
friends say that I'm only human, yes you're right, a human but who am I being?
My life will move in the direction I choose, 
this I know I have always been taught
that I choose to be a winner or lose, 
its entirely up to me its all in my thoughts.

Ken Fepulea'i


Details | Sestina | |

Sestina of Self

I am the center of raw and wild feelings.
Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child.
Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover.
Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper.
My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing.
Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little.

I am conscious of little.
A time before definition or feelings.
Warm, wild wind soughs.
Motion stirs the blueprint of a child.
God in every breath, every whisper.
Take form and discover.

A bud must open in order to discover.
Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little.
Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings.
Fright filters through the pores of a child.
Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing.

The angelic songs of a river soughs.
Life's song for us to discover.
Along the riverbank runs the child.
Of the future she knows little.
Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings.
Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper.

As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper.
My tears often mix with a shower's soughing.
Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings.
They should be naked dancers that discover.
Their steps are big and little.
Dance with the flow trusting child.

As I grow older, in my soul lives the child.
My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers.
It's a never-land where she will always be little.
Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing
With care and love we'll learn to discover.
We are courageous explorers of feelings.

The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing.
A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery.
Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.


Details | Free verse | |

Little Long-Legs

Little Long-Legs
         by Amy Swanson

Running to me

           with big hugs
                     
                    and even bigger brown eyes


smile full of mischief

arms thrown around my neck

           --- almost choking me!--- 
                        *smile*

"I love you Mommy!"

                         my little "Long-Legs"

how fast you have grown.

Almost as tall 
           
                as your short mama

*but then that wouldn't take much*
                  --wink!--


I smile

     remembering a time

                when my little Long-Legs

                               ... my long-legged girl...

had little bitty
                     short legs
                                    just learning how to toddle around the house
                                                           (falling over!)

crawling faster than I could walk

            running to keep up with her...!...

                           purple baby food plums smeared across a happy smiling mouth

full of giggles

and smiles

with no idea how cruel this world can be;

pure innocence.

Pure contentment.

                       Oh how time flies.

She's nine next week

   birthday princess

toddler toys long gone;

she wants a bike

         so she can ride like the wind --

                       already the taste of freedom in her mouth

                                           already the feel of freedom in her spirit

another step...
       away from me.

        But she knows

          I will always

*and, somehow, forever*

  watch over my little girl
    
        even when she is no longer little.


She smiles at me

                  teeth slightly crooked

                                     hair brushed all by herself

and asks "Do you like my style?"

          already planning her fashion agenda

like every "big girl" does.


My almost-nine year old girl
 
  born on lucky clover day

       March 17th, 2000

the day she changed my life
             *my world*         
 
                      so grown up, so soon...

                                 and I know more is on the way.

What I don't know

         is how this mother's heart will fare

when one day she leaves.


You make my life complete

          sunshine girl

  full of tickles and giggles


I love you so, 
                     my little Long-Legs.


Details | Narrative | |

Stunning Armadillos

Trees still shade the road
where Gramps and I once rode
in his old green car -- I drove --
on dusky early evenings
in my fifteenth year.
We stopped, as he insisted, at every spot
where an armadillo scratched
among the tender greenery
in ditches.
I was dispatched,
with Gramps' strong wood cane,
to kill a pesky armored creature
by striking hard, once, upon its snout.
Gramps waited in the car,
called encouragement or condemnation:
"That's it! Hit him hard!" or
"Can't you do a damn thing right?"
He knew I didn't like to kill
but was determined to toughen up
my softness.
That hard old man was not accustomed
to being crossed or contradicted.
But part of him was tender,
and he had a sense of what was right
in the bayou country of his day.
How could I tell him that I hated
killing just to please him?
Often, I killed, then killed again,
although, at times, I'd miss the snout
or be slow to follow up,
and permit an armadillo to escape.
Sometimes, I'd temper force with moderation --
I'd stun the creature, grab the tail,
fling it far into dense bushes
to revive and live another day.
My grandfather eyed me darkly then,
but often kept his peace.
He gave me the treatment
I gave those stunned armadillos.
Could he have felt the same
toward me as I toward them?


Details | Rhyme | |

Entwinement

Bleeding around me are empty faces
Sad, drooping spaces, crumpled places
Melancholy for the light of new places
Stuck in time, frozen in time
The pangs of lonesome fill their sagging hearts
Frowning forever, frowning forever
Let me stare blankly at the stained wall
Nothing at all…nothing at all

The mind is a scary place 
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an never-ending...
Entwinement 

Found myself looking through the tiny hole in the wall
Watching you fall, watching you fall
Scared for the neck that would break us all
You shuddered my blood…shuddered my blood
I met the eyes of the souls of your feet
Twitching and swinging…unfeeling…unfeeling
Please allow me this sole ease:
Just be with me... lie with me

The mind is a scary place 
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an everlasting...
Entwinement

-inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules-
-also inspired by the stop motion film: The Man in the Lower-Left hand Corner of the Photograph-


Details | Rhyme | |

Dad

I never saw him but he said he could …
dive sixty feet
into three feet of drink ... i
saw him drown drafts
and distillers from glasses that clink …

I never saw him but he said he could …

ride bikes backwards
on bars with his butt … i
saw him
abuse and call her a slut …

I never saw him but he said he could …

whip any ten men
only for fun … i
saw him whip loved ones
and brag he had won …

I never saw him but he said he could …

ascend, sail in air ships … i
saw him soar
from s t a g g e r i n g summits
to heaps on the floor …

he never said he could but i saw him …

InciteinvisibleInvaders
CURSEshadow’sSilence
BR EAK bones
HURT hearts
TURN holidays toHELLDAYS
PUSH			 peaceTo Pandemonium

I SAW HIM!


Details | Acrostic | |

Abundance

A is for apathy, “You all know you are!”

B is for itching, “Why can’t I have a car?”
U is for the umbilical cord. You never cut from Ma.
N is for neutral, “Why should you take a stand?”

D is for dependent, “Hey, one always needs a hand!”
A is for angry, “Well, why the hell shouldn’t I be?”
N is for nostalgia, ‘cause in the past we’re free.
C is for the ocks ;) who run the whole damn show!.
E is for euthanasia, “When your old just GO!”

And all that spells abundance, in case you could not tell?
Or went to school in Texas and never learned to spell.


Details | Cowboy | |

Time Flies

Wearing Daddy's boots & cowboy hat & not much in between
Why, Momma, ain't she just about the prettiest baby you've ever seen?
I'm sure wishing she was talking, reading her mind is quite a trick
And she's sure getting awful heavy, I hope she's walking quick 

Whoa there, sassy, Momma look at her running wild
Why I am not sure there ever was a more rambunctious child
Life sure was a picnic when we could just bundle her up & go
Now I get tuckered just watching her, she's a pint size dynamo 

Waist length braids, a gap tooth grin & freckled face
That's our girl, Momma, her calf just took first place
How old is she now, six? No, she can't possibly be eight
Seems she is growing up faster than I'd anticipate 

Well I'll be, look at her standing on the stairs
in a fancy gown, heels & make up putting on womanly airs
this young girl looking back at me, yesterday she was only seven
Now there's a young buck staring at her like he's just seen heaven
 
Wearing a cap & gown, her diploma held high
Look, Momma, there's our girl, getting ready to give her wings a try
Wasn't it just yesterday she was afraid of the monsters under the bed?
Now she's off to college, her own path to tread

Wearing Grandma's pearls & a gown of antique white
Now, Momma, don't start fussing, everything will be all right
Wasn't it just yesterday, I was wishing she was talking?
Now the music is playing & down the aisle we're walking 

Wearing Grandpa's boots & cowboy hat & nothing in between
Why Grandma ain't that the prettiest grandbaby you've ever seen?
Now listen, Sassy, don't go wishing for her to grow up so fast
Treasure each & every moment, create a memory to last 

Be mindful of what you wish for when your babes are small
For in just the blink of an eye, they won't be small at all
You dream of turning back the clock & know you never will
For time flies, just as surely as you wish it would stand still 


Details | Free verse | |

Lizard hunting

I. 
In the orange land, 
the sidewalks race wild with them, 
postured like statues of royal gardens 
the marble lions 
amongst hibiscus limbs. 

II. 
I like the smell of them, 
earth warmed dirt 
and fallen honeysuckle 
baked 
beneath the Florida sun. 

III. 
I poke with 
one tanned fingertip 
where the flesh 
cocoons around their 
soft belly, 
it is like 
the open sesame 
for lizards. 

IV. 
The open mouth of a lizard 
has no bias 
it dangles on ear lobes 
like Coco Chanel 
classic in style. 

V. 
When separated 
the tail becomes an asp 
wrestling with the truth 
of it's loss.