Mommy, I do not want a backpack
I want a polka-dotted red knapsack
this annoyed Ted’s father, big Max
All kinds of conformity this child lacks
Knapsacks do not have zippers Ted said.
I don’t want a backpack, he yelled from his bed.
Little compartments are marvelous said Uncle Ed.
I will take a knapsack or nothing, screamed little Ted.
You have a problem, Grandma Martin said to Big Max.
He makes such a big deal about a backpack!
If it’s a knapsack he wants we can do that, Grandma Martin.
We only have a day and a half until he goes to kindergarten.
Categories:
knapsacks, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form: Rhyme
After college graduation,
Oh, so many years ago,
I traveled throughout Europe,
All my youthful seeds to sow.
With my friends, I took a ferry
To a popular Greek isle
Which had very few hotels,
A hostel being more our style.
But instead, some local women
Met the ferries at the dock,
Where they beckoned so we’d follow
As they eyed us, taking stock.
We were ushered to a bedroom,
Passing family looking on,
Where we dropped our knapsacks, surely
A tradition that’s long gone.
Handing drachmas to a stranger,
Much less sleeping in her bed,
Is a far, far cry from Greece today,
From articles I’ve read.
There are hotels by the hundreds
Being built on isles in Greece
And, despite the locals’ protests,
This construction will not cease.
How much cooler to be greeted,
From a dark and choppy sea,
By a smiling native grandma
Speaking what was Greek to me!
Categories:
knapsacks, nostalgia, travel,
Form: Rhyme
Drowned out by the agitatedly silence
Praying for smooth ride without robbery and violence
Hidden insults, crooked meanings, rude and harsh words
Meaningless sounds created just to be heard
Tapestries on the back of blue and white bus seats like plastic scars
I only have to travel 8 stops that’s not to far
Gum wrappers, old candy, ear plugs, and unfinished homework littered the floor
I constantly hear the squeaky back doors
The red bus # 35 brakes
My balance shakes
The lady next to me asked, Mister where are you from?
Baltimore, my next reply Miss do you have enough room?
Some forceful usual pushing
Nearby drama and fussing
Why is that 7 year old cussing?
Overcrowded people rudely squeezing on their way to the back
Kids don’t even care to take off their knapsacks
It feels like I am the only person truly alive
I only have 19 minutes to survive
Finally my stop is next
I'm here that's the message I just texted
Categories:
knapsacks, anxiety, stress, travel, vacation,
Form: Rhyme