Long Run like the wind Poems
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If you are paranoid and you see the cops give you the eye
Run like a cougar.
Run like the wind,
and do not look back.
If you are learned and you hear them coming
They may indeed be coming after you.
Do not let them get you on the ground.
If there are four of them, fight them all.
Forget being socialized
Forget being mannerly
Forget being polite
Run like your grandma is going to kick your petootie
Because if you don’t
your grandma may
have to kick your butt your petootie.
The child stared at his grandmother.
You are kidding, right?
I wish I was, she told him. I truly wish I was.
Small Towns Revisited
by Edmund Siejka
We Long Islanders
Live near a large City
Of
Tall buildings
High end stores
Apartments with gated windows
A place where people live like strangers.
Here, where we live
The land slopes downward
Towards Merrick Road
Inviting us for a walk
Along the way
It’s just like a neighbor
To call our name
We say hello
And exchange pleasantries
There is no need to say anymore.
Our families have roots here
Passing our local school
We recall that July
When fathers,
Tradesman
And office workers alike,
Volunteered
To help build a playground.
Wives worked nearby
To be home
When children
Stepped off school buses
Homes managed under their careful eye.
Near a park
Our sons and daughters played soccer
Families came to watch
Their children run like the wind
Memory tells me
It was a good season.
On nearby streets
We helped neighbors
With routine chores
Lifting and pushing the unmovable
Shiny things for a kitchen
Or something for the upstairs room
Odds and ends
We call possessions.
In return we are known here
And we take every opportunity
To walk through a quiet town
As early evening
Peacefully descends
On everyone and everything.
Run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
As fast as you can.
Don't run for the silver.
It's not your favorite.
Run for the gold.
'Cause you're here to stay..
You've got the power,
and you've got the glory.
You've got the power,
to run this way..
So run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
On a windy day..
'Cause you've got the power,
and you've got the glory.
You've got the power,
to run this way..
So run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
As fast as you can..
Windy Sunday Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1988,2015..ALL rights reserved..
With a gaze straight ahead, no sign of a blink,
Not even a flicker of care,
He sees through your doubt, your deep hidden dread,
With his blind black ominous stare,
And he’s prepared to attack, prepared for the fight,
Prepared to bring all of you down,
As he stands all alone no hidden army,
Just four feet each transfixed to the ground,
Then he gives you a chance, a small glimmer of hope,
He steps back to allow you to run,
He lets you withdraw to a far away place,
Withdraw from what you’ve begun,
So you run like the wind, escape to the trees,
To the peace in your beautiful world,
Knowing he’s defended without doing a thing,
His large herd of cows … his horde.
We
bound
down the stairs
and into the light of day
Into the blue
of the misty breezes
where the scent
of sea salt roses lay
and grow in perfusion
along the winding road
that lifts and dips
to the other side
of the Funday Bay
to cross the bridge
and rise again
to run away
over the distant hills-
Seagulls-
screech and glide
high above the ocean spray
that falls in a mist
on the rocks
of the lower banks
behind our house
where-
we run like the wind
through the fields
of fresh cut hay
as we make our way
to the rocky mantle -
There-
on that volcanic plateau
worn smooth as glass
by the rolling waves
we play-
In A pool made
when the centre
of the earth
erupted
millennia ago
There-
in that salty water
warmed by a blazing sun
with crabs
and periwinkles-
our ears filled
with the sound
of the ocean’s drum
as it leaves
with the tide below-
We drift away-
Two little kids-
King and Queen
for a day-
In our kingdom
By the Bay
Author: Elaine George
I once knew a boy who could imagine
great things. He could run up a mountain,
swim the depths of the sea. He could fly
a jet fighter and then come home for tea.
As life became real his dreams were pushed
further away. Responsibility overtakes dreams
when there are bills you must pay.
I once knew a boy who could turn ice into
flame. He could imagine a world totally free
from all pain. He could visualise worlds by
gazing at stars, see God up in heaven or
meet him on Mars. He knew that the boy
would soon be a man. He accepted that
nature had its well rehearsed plan.
I once knew a boy who could swim with sharks,
live in outer space and drive the fastest of cars.
He could run like the wind, see sun shine in the
dark. He could make enemies friends, feel the
touch of the stars. He could soar like an eagle,
create spaceships with sand, harness the power
of the universe in the palm of his hand.
I once knew a boy and still see him to this day.
As I look in the mirror he stares back in his way.
Though the imagination of childhood seems to
have been buried away, I can see in his eyes it's
still there and there to stay.
Big Boy Shoes
by Edmund Siejka
She was in the living room
Evening shadows slowly inching forward
When I came home
The look on her face said something had happened.
Reluctant to say anything at first
Words suddenly came out
From her like torrential rain
She came home early and since the house was quiet
Decided to clean up
Unable to find her sneakers she put mine on
Not noticing they weren’t mine
But belonged to our ten year old.
How did this happen so fast she asked?
She remembered the first time
They walked to school together
So close was he to her
How she held his small hand
Feeling his softness
Knowing his innocence.
When it was time for her to leave
She left him at the school house door.
Alone for the first time
He cried
Small innocent tears
Bright as diamonds
But like a brave soldier he walked in
As she waited in front
Anxiously holding her breath
Watching his every move
Until she could only see
The tiniest sliver of his blue backpack
Disappear behind those gray doors.
That fall she bought him his favorite sneakers
The ones covered with gold stars
That made him feel special
That made him believe
He could run like the wind.
And now he was so grown up
So tall
So big
And she confessed
She hadn’t been able to lift him
Since last summer.
When did this happen
To her little boy?
Changes that came so suddenly
And changes that made his mother so sad.
Look at me, I am the same as them.
Eyes like his, eyes like hers, knowing all they see.
Nose wide, skilled, same as his nose, same as her nose.
Ear perfect, hearing all which were taught, from his mouth, from her mouth.
A sharp tongue given to me from her mother, her mother and her mother...
Knowing what was said at birth, listening from the womb.
Look at my hands, same as his hands and her hands.
Same, as they touch the earth from which we come.
Mighty hands, connected to strong shoulders.
Run like the wind, knowing that it will lead you.
Jaded roads, knowing at each turn you were there.
I am significant, same as him, same as her.
We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
Run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
As fast as you can.
Don't run for the silver.
It's not your favorite.
Run for the gold.
'Cause you're here to stay..
You've got the power,
and you've got the glory.
You've got the power,
to run this way..
So run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
On a windy day..
'Cause you've got the power,
and you've got the glory.
You've got the power,
to run this way..
So run like the wind.
On a windy Sunday.
Run like the wind.
As fast as you can..
Windy Sunday Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1988,2014..
ALL rights reserved..