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Way Down South

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 -

Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

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