Long Skating rink Poems
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The thoughts we think, what is their source
Emotes rise and fall in a blink
It’s clear that love employs no force
Time is now head and heart to link
Dark desires and fears, our heart’s chink
Heartfelt penance follows remorse
Else waywardness will make us sink
The thoughts we think, what is their source
It’s better we change our life’s course
We already are on the brink
Love reads not codes written in morse
Emotes rise and fall in a blink
To join love in heart’s skating rink
Conscience has shouted itself hoarse
Warning of sins that in heart slink
It’s clear that love employs no force
Love alone is real of course
From the stream of bliss, nectar drink
Drowned in fears, we’ve drifted off-course
Time is now head and heart to link
Is love not colour of our ink
Know God is our only resource
The choice is ours to swim or sink
Pulsations of joy, let’s endorse
The thoughts we think
31-May-2023
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)
Gatherings and parties I attended
when I was young are memories so dear,
for they’ve endured as treasures most splendid!
My friends from school inhabited one sphere
that mattered to me when youth had begun.
The parties with my school chums brought such cheer.
The birthday parties – oh they were so fun -
like those held at the roller skating rink -
a rush of pleasure loved by everyone!
The parties where we didn’t sleep a wink
were oddly labeled slumber parties! We
would party, but we gal pals did not drink.
We got high on laughter and repartee!
Such girly girls, we’d gossip and we’d squeal
at ghost tales until dawn’s first light we’d see.
Another part of childhood – a big deal -
was family. I looked most forward to
reunions, meeting cousins with great zeal.
What fun to see my cousins all anew
since rarely did I see them all year long,
so when we’d meet, there was a lot to do.
I loved when cousin Steven came along
(a crush of mine!) Off we’d then run and play.
With relatives it felt cool to belong.
A great buffet we’d have on Christmas day,
and Secret Santa gifts we would receive.
No other Christmas seemed a better way.
My memories of these times do not leave.
Friends and family are precious, I believe.
Oct. 7, 2022
for Brian Strand's 'YOUR PREFERENCE' Poetry Contest
hidden in my memories is a playground ...
where I played ... as a young girl with my friends
I remember it so clearly like I am there
the children laughing and shouting
running around
it is a nice memory to recall
~ the playground was not far from our home
and I went every single day
except in the rain to play on the swings
because they were my favorite- I went higher and higher ~
at that time there were seesaws (teeter totters)
monkey bar structures and merry-go-round spinners
but, nowadays they are considered too dangerous
so playgrounds in my city don't have them anymore
but they exist in my memories ...
~ sometimes mom made me bring
my little brother so, I would put him in the sandbox
oh, that kid could spend the day building stuff ~
our park had a wading pool shallow on one end
but a little deeper on the other like waist deep
of course, there was always staff around for safety
I really liked the slides and little bro did too
I remember the playground as being quite large
the ground was grass ... and parts had sand
in the winter there was a skating rink that I 'loved' ...
~ lots of wonderful and forever memories
I have from those carefree childhood days in the playground
and of summer and winter delight ...
... now, let me gather up my yesteryear memories
and put them away ~
I am running around breathlessly, trying to do it all.
There are followers, admirers, helpers but this is my fantasy.
An orphanage, a dog shelter, and a home for unwed mothers.
It is the sixties, when they were tormented and abused for being so.
Add a movie theater, a skating rink and a dance studio I call to an assistant.
She jots some notes and hurries away, toward the children’s clown college.
“What can I do?” Dirk, one of my most persistent fawners asks.
Can you feed the sheep? Goats? Missouri mules?
He nods and runs off happy.
I am still walking at a brisk clip,
checking things out, making sure they are right.
My assistant’s assistant runs over to ask “popcorn in the theaters?
And Junior Mints, I tell him.
“And I want that theater built by tomorrow night.”
All possible when you are a nine-year-old child
But how in the hell did I know about unwed mothers?
This was 1961, and my parents told me nothing.
I still ponder this recurring dream I had every night for a year.
It was 1949.
Slow music was playing on the radio.
A young, handsome fast-talking 24 year old named Dick was driving around small town Iowa in a yellow convertible with red interior, feeling pretty cocky until his car went off a bridge and he found himself on foot.
He had not been on foot since he was 16, and he was pretty pouty about it.
Let’s go to the skating rink, a friend said.
He was about as interested in skating as he was interested in staying home on a
Saturday night, to listen to the radio.
The friend kept hounding him, trying to lure him there with the promise of pretty girls, cheap pop, snacks, finally breaking him down because there was nothing else to do, on foot.
Dick had to scramble over many years of junk in the shed, and open a multitude
Of boxes before he found his skates.
By the time they arrived, he’d set his mind hard against having a good time.
Until this tiny waif of a girl with snapping brown eyes started showing off her skills.
She was doing circles, figure eights, dizzy lous, and pretty sallies, skating around the floor with the expertise of a nymph, turning herself backwards, forwards and upside down.
The competition was now on. Dick laced up those skates lickety split.
He could not wait to show her his skills.
She was young, focused, and not interested in the least.
She was the champion ignorer of all times, and it drove him nuts.
Pretty soon he was hanging around the office where she worked, daily, trying to get her to look up.
She ignored him there too.
He told me the story and I laughed.
She ignores you at home too, Dad, I told him.
She didn’t even look up.
Traveling through the Valley in my old car
Passing by the rubble that was Saint Ann's
Wondering what is happening to the valley
No more growth, I guess God had other plans
An empty lot where Saint Mary's school use to be
Stopped by and shed a silent tear
Henry's and the My Place are just part of the past
I'm just watching all my memories disappear
The Coffee shop is gone now up in Summit Hill
The stadium stands but there is no scheduled game
The school building became a housing project
Somehow the Valley doesn't seem the same
The churches are combined now, once they all were full
Population's down, getting smaller I fear
We once knew everyone by their first name
I'm just watching all my memories disappear.
We'd hitch hike from Tamaqua to hang at the My
Play the juke box and dance in the back room
Stop by the bowling alley or catch a movie
Now the block's as quiet as a tomb
We'd drag race on a Saturday night on the Hauto stretch
Seems we never really knew the meaning of fear
Kids don't love their beat up cars the way that we once did
And I'm watching all my memories disappear
No more church picnics up in Dutch Hill Park
The hangouts that we knew are now all gone
The pool hall, YMCA and skating rink
In my mind they still linger on
Once we'd gather in the Indian fields
To have some fun and share a quart of beer
Sit along the cemetery wall late at night
I'm just watching all my memories disappear.
Oh, my – elated thrills delight my chills!
No matter how often I pinch myself,
we are snow globe coupled ‘neath white hills
in Christmas Cheerville with merry elves.
Sweet town abounds with dreams come true.
Heaven is skating on this ice rink with you
thru ideal, melodic, soft falling snow
and holding mitten clad hands as we go.
‘Tis romantic bliss receiving your kisses
that long topped my Christmas wishes.
I love inhaling my desired view –
a world construed for two, me and you.
I feel so safe and completely warm
in this lovely, ongoing snowstorm.
With your strong arms around me
my temperature reads happy.
Covers lift, shift and love’s snow globe fades
as my eyes view my husband sleep arrayed.
Smiling, I wonder, ponder, feel and I think
of ways to gift him, my love, an ice-skating rink.
Driving past our old home on Glenwood Avenue
Memories came to life from my childhood days
Going over the park, Mom. I'll be in before ten
Got a game of hide and seek. Everyone plays
We'd take a bottle of yoo-hoo or nu-grape to drink
In winter on Clark Street there was an ice skating rink
A pack of luckies in our shirt sleeve thinking we were cool
The Bungalow was our community pool
There were Friday night dances in the gym at Saint Jerome
Maybe a stop at the Coffee Cup while we were walking home.
Movies at the Majestic and Victoria were great
Fan buses for away games. We'd get back late.
American Billiard Academy was where the balls were racked
No seat at the home game because the stadium was packed
Under the state store, the Y M C A
At the Vic a Saturday matinee
A baseball game with a sponge ball and fist
In the school's gymnasium, doing the Twist
Middle Ward playground, the movie was free
Adjusting the picture on the old T V.
A class trip on school buses to Hershey Park
Sleigh ride down Snake Hill in the cold and the dark
Walking the coal bank by Number Fourteen
Stopping at Mike's to play the pinball machine
On Biddle Street, we'd sit on the cemetery wall
Jumping into piles of leaves in the early fall
Then I stopped at Dutch Hill Park for a while
Memories of Tamaqua always make me smile.
Ottawa the beautiful-
in the province of Ontario . . . in Canada
at night it is a magical fantasy land and even during the day . . .
I grew up in this town and I love it the Parliament buildings are breathtaking
Neo-Gothic surrounds a grass courtyard used everyday by citizens from dawn
and into the night with sounds and light shows music and words
projected onto Parliament . . . the center of Ottawa is a mingling of
grand Victorian and modern the result is quite stunning
we have a place called the Byward Market
where farmers and craft people sell each day and at night it is a gathering of
restaurants and clubs . . .
the historic Rideau Canal is full of boats in the summer . . . skaters in
the winter considered the longest skating rink in the world and on each side
it is park lined there are areas of the city quite ethnic like Little
Italy Chinatown . . any kind of museum I love the
National Art Gallery of Canada tons of festivals and performing arts
nature can be found in our many wild parks lush and green and with snow
covered paths in the winter if you want white water rafting we have it
horse back riding fairs you name it we have places you will love . . .
just walk around old neighborhoods it so inspiring to see the homes in
many parts of Ottawa . . . this is a town that I love
and I know you would love it too . . .
Whenever, I have to leave I hold Ottawa in my heart until I return.
_______________________
April 7, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/Bask In Historic Beauty
Copyright Protected, ID 17-844-921-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
On Lake Ontario's northwestern shore
sits a city of awe, beauty, and lore.
Toronto is where sports built the SkyDome,
and the Maple Leafs and Raptors call home.
Its renowned entertainment district lures
trendy tourists with its late-night bar tours.
And world-class restaurants offer cuisines
befitting the palates of kings and queens.
We built the CN tower to pierce the sky
one thousand eight hundred fifteen feet high.
And every spring, folks race up to the top
for nature, and that's not going to stop.
Torontonians say please and thank you
and allow cut-ins when standing in cue.
And our city hall hosts a skating rink,
it sounds extraordinary, don't you think?
(Rhyme)
12/23/2022
Take Me There Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico