On the first day of a year long ago
We walked the path to the glazing wood
Peter, Michael, Seamus and me
We cut hazel wands to swing
Severing the tops from offending fern and brier
Some spark of our ancestry
Made us hunter gatherers
As the dogs rose and caught startled rabbits
Proudly home, ‘Mam, here is the dinner’
The rest sold to old Mrs Power
Six pence each we were rich
Every three rabbits bought five cigarettes
And a flagon of cheap cider
In a fern hid den we sat on damp ground
Sucking sweet apple from brown bottles
Cupping acrid smoking sticks in children’s hands
For a while we were men, our fathers
That was a day far off in my youth
Before life filled my pockets with stones
I was young then
(I first thing mentioned here had to be from me dreaming "awake,"
but the other two things I still swear to this day I saw them and my
sisters verify they remember me telling everyone about seeing
those things!)
A child, I woke from sleep once and surveyed,
before my very eyes, a big parade
with clowns and elephants and marching band.
It could not be a dream; it was so grand!
Then later where I lived there was a wood
behind the street of our new neighborhood.
And once while playing war games, I could swear
I saw back there a big brown grizzly bear!
It probably was thought I was a liar
the day I claimed that on the telephone wire
a toucan perched with bill bright green and red,
which no one else had seen before it fled.
It’s ages since I’ve had the chance to see
such wondrous visions where they should not be!
Nearsightedness is not my only plight.
I’ve long since lost my magic childhood sight.
For Crystal Wilkin's first Contest "Childhood Memories!"
It"s ten to one in the morning.
i"m lying in my bed.
I have so many men to kill
there buzzing round my head.
My thumb is sore and aches
and hurts each time i press,
but i got to kill those suckers
i"ll teach them not to mess.
The bedroom door bursts open.
My Mother storms inside.
I quickly pull up covers
and vainly try to hide.
What the hell is this?
Don"t you know the time?
Her voice explodes in fire
I mumble humble fine.
The room decends in darkness
silence reigns supreme.
I"m grounded for tomorrow
my Mother she is mean.
The next day at the table
my behaviour is discussed.
My Father nods his head
and says i am the worst.
A whole day without gameing
God my lifes the pits.
I"m sure i"ll die of boredom
I bet I get the yips.
But soon the day is over
it"s midnight in my room
I can"t resist temptation
to pick up and resume.
I switch on my Playstation.
and put it all on mute.
My Mum will never know.
I think i"m pretty cute.
But what the hell is this
i"ve been taken for a mug.
that bloody devious Mother.
she"s taken off the PLUG!
out here in too bright sunlight squinting in hand shade through sun burnt lashes
details hide in black shadowed faces haloed in the bright of day as memories flicker of other
days on city streets when heads held high were feared and turned on and eyes to pavement was
a hope to make it through the day without a fight.
Unless of course one bore the daily pain to build a bloody rep and even then sun could shine too
brightly exposing weaknesses in chinks that loved the shade.
To smile into the sunlight blind, shifting gravitational center on each step prepared and readied
for whatever the moment brings and trusting in oneself to deal with it again.
A new day begins when eyes have rested,
snuggle up tight until sun has crested.
Dream land is waiting for imaginations,
capturing sights brimming with sensations.
Stuffed animals guard against lonely cries
that seem to haunt the exhausting sighs.
Toy cars and trucks that race on winding track
can fend off nightmares that want to attack.
From open window insects sing loud and clear,
a soothing lull-a-bye soft on tender ear.
Darkness comforts to lull a bedtime sleep,
while the beaming moon is a light to keep.
Stars that twinkle with constant brilliant shine,
calms the heavens so that souls can resign.
In the morning eyes will slowly awake,
embracing the day sweet lull-a-byes make.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
He run's down the street almost skipping along,
Marble's in pocket he whistles a song.
She lay on her bed, click, click, click,s the remote,
Four hours of viewing with no other thought.
With red cheeks "to the wreck", like pirates they flee,
He giggles and hides neath the sycamore tree.
Bored of T.V she picks up the lap top,
Her social life full now her inbox is chock.
Let's go down the bridge, watch the boats as they pass,
Oh the colour's, the smells and a glimpse of a lass.
Excited she get's with the game on the screen,
Some more crisps, some more coke, This life's just a dream.
With his apple in hand, it's the tastiest yet,
Home he arrives, "good day son", "oh you bet".
That's another day done I filled it quite well,
As she pulls up her jeans, "gained some pounds, can you tell?".
SSSHHH listen Daddy are you there
SSSHHH listen I want to tell you how my day at school went
SSSHHH listen, Daddy are you there, why arn't you answering
I need you Daddy
Why arn't you there- Daddy I need a hug, I need you to hold me
and tell me it will all be okay and it will be over soon
That you are stronger than the big bright moon- Hello- Daddy
Why wont you answer are you lost
SSSHHH- listen, i don't understand
I need you to listen, I need your hand, for you to stand up and be a man
SSSHHH listen, Daddy are you there
sorry to say for he doesn't care
I suddenly fall to the ground and scream
Daddy- Daddy this isn't fair
SSSHHH- Listen Daddy I need you to come back PLEASE
I f only for a simple minute to hear of my day
SSSHHH- Daddy are you there
I need a hug for I have never felt your strong arms around me
Knowing you could have been the one to keep me safe, the one who just might have saved
me
SSSHHH- listen, it is another lonley day that I feel that I have been betrayed
Daddy why wont you there, why don't you care
SSHHH listen
I hesr nothing and
nothing is what I have become
First day of Highschool, A kid trips me,
I get up,
he pushes me back down,
punches me in the face,
then leaves.
I could have got back up and beat him up
but I'm not a fighter I'm a writer.
Even when they get me so angry
I'm ready to catch fire
like a lighter
but i don't
beacuse I'm not a fighter I'm a writer.
Sometimes, when I get so stressed
I'm ready to give up
because it feels like i have no other opption.
like a mother that has no food or no money
so she has to give up her only kid up for adoption.
I still manage to deal with it
one day at a time
beacause I'm not a fighter I'm a writer.
Instead of using my fists as weapons
the only weapons i use is my pen and my thoughts
to beat up the paper.
A few years later
I run into that same kid
he corners me in the bathroom
and starts hitting me over and over
until my face turns numb then he walks away.
I rush to my backback
to get my pen and notebook to unleash my anger
to find that its not there.
I look up at that kid as he walks away
and that day i became the fighter instead of the writer.
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