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Memories of a Small Town

Memories of a small town lays heavy on my heart of a day so long ago. As a boy would go to grandma's house and talk with her for hours. Sometimes for Sunday dinners or breakfast, she was such a kind lady to know. One time she paid me to kill sparrows, of which she paid me a dime each. Sparrows were getting into her garden and eating everything. One day I took my BB gun and shot some of her chickens, just to see what would happen. No harm was done, so I forgot about it, until one day, dear old grandma made chicken for dinner, and there was those BB's, she was very mad at me, but no more job of killing sparrows. Loved this town, many more things to tell, but for now will wait. wrote 9-24-08 This really happened around 1953 or 1954 in Grinnell Iowa, I was 10 or 11 years old at the time.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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Date: 9/28/2008 9:01:00 PM
grew up in a small town so this poem really hit home.
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Date: 9/28/2008 8:53:00 AM
Made me smile. Such a beautiful visual poem, takes me right back to my childhood and all the silly things we did. Good one. Regards Heidie
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Date: 9/26/2008 2:47:00 PM
James - Sounds like the bbs ratted you out bro - My grandmother also raised chickens - Funny how our memories linger isn't it James - God Bless
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Date: 9/24/2008 11:54:00 PM
So much truth hereJames,please see my latest offering 'IMPRINTS'.Rgds Brian & thanks for your ongoing comments
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Date: 9/24/2008 7:33:00 PM
hi james, I used to love to talk with my grandmother, you get such wisdom from your elders, this poem evokes loving memories, great write, and thanks always for your welcome comments, take care D-nyce
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Date: 9/24/2008 7:28:00 PM
every childhood memory is something i am deeply appreciative, i too was blessed with a beautiful childhood so i can relate. i enjoyed reading this James. Best of days.
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Date: 9/24/2008 3:03:00 PM
James- Thankyou for sharing those special moments with your grandmas. Ill think of you when I have chicken soup. Very nice poem. Sincerely Michael
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Date: 9/24/2008 2:45:00 PM
Heavy on the nostalgia, which I can understand and like . . . The poem read very easily, short lines and likable vision . . . Reminded me of my own grandmother back in Arkansas . . .
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Book: Shattered Sighs