Memories of a City Child
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Val Brooklyn Rogers Blk Panther.
This poem is total fiction. I can't dance. I have no twin cousins about my age. But
My mother is a nurse.
Writing about daisies roses rainbows and waterfalls helped me
Escape the madness of the city LIFE. The JUNGLE.
Whenever I wished to return I laid my pen down and
Anticipated the next siren. So...
I laid back and reminisced for most of the day. Now, time for
Concrete and asphalt. Cement and metal fire escapes. I
Screamed more times than not with every passing siren.
I wanted to admire the faults in the pavement close up. I
Missed NEW YORK when I stayed half the Summer at my
Aunt's place in Brunswick, Georgia. So I've been away for
A while, just My style.
In this aisle! That's my CHILD! My mother screamed in the
Local SUPERMARKET with her thick Caribbean accent. It seemed
As though her voice boomed through every aisle in the
Market. She would search the security monitors when ever I
Wasn't at her side.
YEAH, I'm pretty regular now.
Not versatile anymore at all.
I dance SMALL. EXQUISITE. I've had about enough of
This. O.k let me entertain you." I'll put. On a skit." Then
I said " I know. Look out of the window. I'm going down
Stairs to dance barefoot!!"
If you danced barefoot You're sure to Gather a huge crowd.
"I HOPE they throw money at me."
Dressed in Jean shorts and a new green T-shirt, she
Pursued her money making scheme.
I was thankful for that summer.
9 years old and bored in NYC.
IT'S only a matter of time before I found trouble.
Little child running WILD with brick feet.
I had to get their attention.
"This here Is about to be a TREAT!!"
A teenager had a boom box with him.
"Hey yeah, that sounds nice. Turn that up"
He increased the volume as high as the sky.
She tapped her feet listening for the beat.
A slightly raised portion of the stoop was her stage.
Before anyone knew it she whipped the crowd with
The NAE NAE for at least 8 to 10 minutes and the
Crowd grew as they oohed and aahed.
Someone in the crowd asked her what her name was.
"Licia." She smiled breathlessly.
"My name's Licia", she repeated.
They responded just as she hoped they would.
They threw money at her.
Yeah! She danced more and heard the excitement of her cousins
Racing down the stairs to her aid.
That was fly LICIA.
No one ever called her Val, her first name.
FANTASTIC!! When ever we.
Needed money all we had to do was dance.
Sometimes my identical twin cousins
Damian and Dezrah joined me.
That was a little adventure.
THEY bounded the stairs swiftly, anxious for an accurate count.
That was it she had a rep now.
Her three cousins cheered her as they entered the
Apartment still the only ones home.
She lived with her mother. A nurse at the local
Hospital.
She wouldn't be home until twelve tonight.
The four of them sat on the bed counting what looked
A bit like bank robbery stash.
It was $137 and 50¢
Copyright © Val Brooklyn Rogers Blk Panther | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment