Long Daycare Poems
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I remember her from my daycare
Not even sure if I was yet in underwear
She had blue eyes and blonde hair
I guess I was dab and debonair.
From the first day we began to play blocks
We hit the point of stealing each others socks
I could tell it was heating up
Because she drank from my spill free cup!!
At days end we were lining up at the door
She jumped in front of me as she had done before.
Then it happened, it happened so fast
It was a magical moment from my wee little past
She bent slightly forward, eyes closed, puckered lips…
I thought what is wrong with her face and hips
I did not see it coming just thought something was amiss
But she ended my day and started my life with my first kiss.
Now this tale might be a little tall
But so was everything when I was small
Her name was Shanna and it did happen in daycare
So my story is not too tall from there.
Contest YOUR FIRST KISS, FIRST LOVE, or FIRST BROKEN HEART
Brian Magness
At the end of each day these modern-day parents,
Wait impatiently in line,
For their latest up-dates on their preschooler's day,
As they check for bags,
Lost socks,
And notices,
As they watch the time,
The traffic that is building,
And what to do about dinner.
At best they will be given some quick highlights,
By their child's main caregiver,
Usually wrapped up in political correctness,
And a reminder of unpaid fees.
More often the main caregiver will have finished their shift,
Been off sick for the day or left for greener pastures,
Or as is happening more and more,
Left for unspecified reasons,
That can't be talked about,
Except through the Rumour mill,
But will be on the front page of the local paper the next week.
But take heart,
Any information about their children if slightly edited,
Will be only second-hand memories,
Or if another family member is picking up the child,
Third hand memories.
What's that you say,
Not at your child's daycare,
Which is just perfect,
And the staff wonderful.
Indeed you may be one of the few lucky ones,
But even then your memories will still be second hand,
And some information will have been put in the best light,
To protect your child.
Some of us can still remember when one or both parents,
Were there to witness first hand important milestones,
In their child's life.,
Like their first steps,
Their first tooth coming through.
So, where to from here?
That is not my call,
But can we not,
Arrange to replace even one second hand memory,
With an actual first-hand experience.
(I was an early childhood teacher for 30 years)
America's genocide, by way of abortion, drugs and other ways unseen.
America's genocide looks clear to me, non-Americans are growing and have a high birth rate, making them not suffer genocide.
America should allow for free day care, allowing women to have options if they need, just enlarge the schools to include daycare.
America should put its unborn first, making way for a higher birth rate.
America's genocide looks like a plan to make Americans suffer loss, loss of family members, loss of voices, because they are a smaller and smaller groups have less voices.
America should put its people first, and allow for free stuff, like free college, free trade school, free day care from birth forward.
America's freedom is always at stake, voices are the way to protect freedom, any killing of its people is genocide for America.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
I remember Charlie from college,
a troublemaker par excellence,
not that Charlie intended to be,
it’s just his views were often askance.
Take, for example, the time in class
we were discussing feminism,
the professor was glad her students
were all seeing things through her prism.
But then Charlie said, “You’re looking past
the long-term effects of such thoughts,
marriage rates are down, so are birth rates,
divorce is so common it seems taught.
More single mothers mean messed up kids,
strange men in the house mean more abuse,
with no strong families to model off,
children grow up with a slanted view,
which makes it hard to form families,
which ensure that our culture survives,
are we sure modern feminism
Is a force for good in all our lives?”
The girls in the class loudly freaked out,
with the professor they piled on,
Charlie just shrugged at their vitriol.
“Your anger doesn’t mean that I’m wrong.”
Now this might have come off arrogant,
It seemed that way to me at the time,
I had not learned to appreciate
The use of a truly honest mind,
Not seen a man who valued the truth
More than woman, friendship, or real fame,
A person who could just go along,
As this next tale will help to explain:
It was another discussion,
About women joining the work force,
And how it was a great step forward,
That we should be encouraging more.
But Charlie raised his hand and spoke up,
“What is gonna happen to the kids?
Should we just entrust them to daycare,
Like our parents’ generation did?
Mental illness has skyrocketed,
And it’s become clear this plays a part,
The formative years are so vital
To a balanced mind and healthy heart.
A stay at home parent teaches them
That they are valued and loved so much
That someone will dedicate their life
To see them protected and raised up.
Why should they fight for a stranger’s time,
What negative effects will that have?
Problems when young tend to follow us
To adulthood, and that would be bad.
Man or woman, stay at home parents
Help give us people health and strong.”
They hounded him out, but he yelled back,
“Get upset, but you know I’m not wrong!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
the old bones of god
sit on street corners
with their doors unlocked—
not for prayer,
but for the lost electricity
of people trying
to feel something again.
they rent the pews
by the hour now:
yoga mats where knees once bent,
AA circles where confessions
spill easier than psalms,
daycare toys rattling
in the echoes of stained glass.
sometimes a wedding,
two kids promising eternity
under a roof that’s seen
too many broken versions
of forever.
other times it’s silence—
a holy kind—
where only dust believes
in resurrection.
the steeple still watches,
but it doesn’t judge anymore.
it just waits,
the old drunk sentinel,
for someone to stumble in
with a wound
too human for the streets
and too honest
for the bars.
what are churches used for now?
whatever keeps the roof on,
whatever keeps the lights dim,
whatever lets a few souls
sit still long enough
to remember
they’ve got one.
An old brochure
Bunch of possibilities, most of these are improbable pearls of wisdom. Never to be, never to have. Yet the warmth of coziness will be obvious. Like the baby in a daycare, acknowledged in gratitude, where the working couple left for a daytime job.
Leaving the storytelling chime to be stored for another secured time.
And the rest of the day would vibrate with the windcatcher moments, planning and planning throughout the day, that often times, and most often than not, lead to nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.
Your life has a subtle way to trespass in putting forecast out there, that it is only you. Fallible you. Yet, at the same time, it is not the frequency that is the gem of the observational truth.
As if? The question is always halfhearted.
As if, I am the doctor when I am supposed to be the patient. I am the moral law maker when I need to be the succumbed one in the submissiveness. I am the troublemaker mayhem when I will be the decisive return entropy question too.
A narrow escape between a daytime paystub that earns throughout a scaffold.
Even for the Royals.
Even within the Royals!
And my story will start, right there! A seamstress sitting on the moon, with a bunch of sewing chores, never understood around the way to returning back, in a safe wish!
An old brochure!
That never understood that bobbling is a permanent natural change all on the own account, even without disturbing the main course of happening!
Even for the even loaves!
(1-31-2024)
He lives right next door to me and he is seven years old
as I stood on my balcony I watch him come out of the house
backpack strapped to his back he looked forlorn and serious
"Are you looking forward to your first day of school?" I asked
He looked up at me with big brown eyes then
adjusting the strap of his school bag kicked a pebble in his way
"I wish there was no school, only daycare and summer camp
now that I have to go to school, all I do is homework, shower,
then go to bed"
His mom stepped out, " Delano are you ready? "
"Yes mom," he whispered then disappeared inside the car;
I smiled as I recalled my first day of school
The year was 1966. I didn't speak a word of English
I was terrified no one would want to play with me
When I asked my mom, "do I have to go ?"
She kissed me on the cheek, then squaring my shoulders
and said with a big resounding Si, " yes you do !"
Sept 9 2022
Take your power women, and use it for good.
Remember the times that we suffered with no path to grow.
They made us work for free, and kill our children by abortion and lack of money to give birth.
They made us choose life or death, by failing to give us choices.
We needed free education, free universal daycare from birth forward, free support to help us grow.
They tricked us with words of love, yet they gloat when they tell others, they have no wife or children or lover.
They used us and sometimes abused us with tricks of love.
Sometimes they raped us, and laughed and failed to admit they put us on a negative life path.
Making our life trajectory become sad and depressed.
Remember the power within yourself, hold it close and remember the lost and the weak as you grow.
A baby’s immediate circle
Of mommy and daddy expands
As he grows and his parents entrust him
To others’ responsible hands.
Then in playgroups or daycare or classes,
His once tight little circle makes space
For his earliest friends and instructors,
Each displaying a welcoming face.
Years will fly and the circles get bigger,
Overlapping as interests are found,
With the first circle members ensuring
That he’ll keep his two feet on the ground.
School years somehow morph into adulthood,
With new circles of jobs and romance,
Which invite both new colleagues and lovers
To come join in the circles and dance.
Soon new families form and more circles
Beckon other new parents as friends
And what happens to earlier circles
Is that sometimes, the overlap ends.
Circumstances may sever a segment,
Such as change of location or views,
Which may cause a once-widening circle
To shed members they’d just as soon lose.
Time will march and will bring with it aging,
With its own set of issues and rules
And the circles will shrink and will tighten,
Some denying and acting like fools.
At the end, just the tiniest circle,
Like the newborn’s, will likely remain
And those lucky enough get to share it
With no need to bemoan or explain.
My clothes came from
K-mart.
They were on layaway
Until school starts.
We would go out to eat,
Every now and then.
We would chill out when
Our parents would count to ten.
A treat on a hot summer day,
It was a popsicle.
We would take a break from
Riding our bicycle.
We would get allowance and
Buy fake cigs as candy.
When I was a kid,
Things were fine and dandy.
School everyone had to go,
It was mandatory.
We couldn't watch movies
That were bloody and gory.
We changed clothes to
Go out and play.
Street lights came on, you headed
Home; this was the way
Daycare was a neighbor,
Or older sibling.
You were spanked for lying
Or stealing.
You could not go outside,
when you were being punished.
You could laugh at someone's
dumbness.
We ate dinner every night
At the table.
When we were babies,
We were rocked in the cradle.
We played truth or dare,
Cops and robbers.
Boys grew their hair,
Quit going to the barbers.
We played red light, green light,
Simon says and tag.
Every day at school we pledged
Allegiance to the flag.
No bottled water,
We drank from a hose.
We could get muddy,
We had on our play clothes.
You memorized your address
And phone number.
We went on vacation or to
A camp in the summer.
When I was a kid,
We looked out for one another.
If you didn't you were spanked
By your father.
We watched cartoons on
Saturday morning.
We had family values,
A sense of belonging.
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