Long Small town Poems
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Ten children have been snatched from our small town
this century from unlocked homes and yards.
We never go outside to play unless
a grownup goes. Sometimes life seems so hard.
At school recess is twenty minutes long.
If we’re not good, we have to stay inside.
So we are REALLY good! We need to play,
to feel the sun and breeze, see birds that glide
above us as we make the best of time.
At home we have our tv’s, phones, and toys.
We play inside with doors and windows locked.
We’re pale, like many other girls and boys
who gaze out windows wishing they could be
like kids of long ago who played outside
for hours at the time in bright sun’s rays
and roamed in groups so freely far and wide.
FICTIONAL (not true in my town--but in some towns!)
Written September 10, 2019, for Julia Ward's Town Children Contest
I did not know about being carefree and open
When I was a teen
I was from a small town
Where a rapist killer was loose
I would have never jumped into a car
With a stranger or a bunch of them
But I see that these girls did
Because their sign says Carefree and Open
I admire them for their bravery and their attitudes
I am sure they lived to marvelously old ages
Loving their adventures along the road
If it had not been for the rapist killer,
I might have been one of them
Life opens up differently for all of us
Let us remember that
Before we judge anyone else's journey
or their choices
Technically, not a sea at all,
Lake Superior churns up its share of sea storms.
There is not a lot to do in Marquette, Michigan:
Except for high school drivers to "buzz the gut",
Or cruise past a courthouse where "Anatomy" was filmed.
You could smoke dope or drink underage
Under a disused, fourteen story ore pocket dock.
Rusted off shards of flat black paint
Fall on the gently sloshing waves.
There is a breakwater of dumped cement blocks
That has a chain-linked fence and sign that says,
DANGER! NO TRESPASSING!
But of course, the young ones do.
And better yet if a sea storm comes.
Maritime law forbids including those who drown
As sailors lost at sea.
Life is all about family and love.
July 20, 1969, this day in history
Astronaut Neil Armstrong walked on moon, 240,000 miles
From Earth, a billion people
Listening at home:
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
This same day near midnight
A small town in Taiwan island, a baby
Was born. I was born!
This clinic nurse in the lobby
Told my grandmother: “It’s a girl.”
Disappointing granny then
Turned around and went on home: without hesitation.
Everyone wished I
Was a boy!
Life is all about family and love.
Introspective, peacemaker, stammering, am I so.
My order sister
Too, born as a special child. She
Blames my mother granting me a prettier face. She
Demands everyone rewarding her undivided attention. I
Pretended permitting her full control over me – until, I
Ceased pretending!
A blessing or a curse, am I not.
Lack of nurturing,
false, no one – mom and dad did their very best.
Celebrate. I am the pretty one.
Life is all about family and love.
Grounded, stubborn, fearless, am I so.
Sunrise; sundown; circle of seasons,
presenting the most powerful version of me – fiercely, am I not.
Schooling, work, duty, responsibility, I am so.
Tearful five years of family revolution – a summon
From entropy, chaos! Three people
again one – the disgraceful one as I
was named!
Shocking, awakening, baffling, agonizing,
Life is all about family and love.
Eccentric, curious creature, solitude endeavor, am I so.
A grateful heart roaring
Abundant resources, reaching
Extraordinary heights, a lifetime student, am I not.
Millions of mistakes. Countless mis-turns.
Knowledge applied become wisdom.
Walking this lonely road missing
A mentor. Not a road less traveled, but
A road worth travels.
Life is all about family and love.
Ecstatic, untethered, blissed soul, am I so.
My father – a giver, a protector,
a provider – kindest man on earth.
Along the way, without permission, his little girl makes him proud.
Truly my father’s daughter. I am so!
Redeem mother’s homemade
Cooking once more. That’s one
Small step for the self-chained mother, one giant leap
For a tranquil daughter.
Life is all about family and love -- forgivingly.
she was inspired by a famous actor who married an actress
from a the big city. When they became engaged they moved to a small town
and grew, hot peppers and would pickle them with apples and zuchinni, they were delicious. They saw an ad for sale of a recipe for sausages, the owner was moving to Europe, he wanted sell the rights to his very popular and special recipe. The couple decided to buy the recipe, and renamed it Souffer, and served the mild and sweet sausage with there pickled peppers and Zuchini and apples, people loved it and they became a main feature and an attraction at their shin ding's. It's said to be the "love item" mentioned in the groove, "hot ripe and ready."
Let’s have some barbeque, Ma.
It isn’t the fourth yet, Pa.
Close enough. Let’s paint stars.
On the fence? Why not?
We are patriots, aren’t we?
The stars got painted and the flags were up.
Neighbors came to the porch, and they gave ‘em a cup.
We’re hav’n barbeque, want to bring the kids?
We’ll be shoot’n off guns, until police put on the skids.
The neighborhood came, and no one was patted down.
More people showed up; it looked like half of the town.
It’s a small town in Iowa and everybody has guns.
They brought them all too, it was all kinds of funs!
They shot bullets off way into the night.
The kids were slow at first, but they finally got it right.
Let’s do it every day, one sleepy kid said.
Fireworks went off with a pop-pop-pop, all white, blue and red.
This is America! The land of the free!
Let’s shoot off more bullets! Yelled a child of three.
It’s the first day of school and I’m really quite nervous.
I don’t know how everyone will react to me.
I wonder what should be my first order of business.
Should I make friends right away or just let it be?
I moved here from the city where I always rode the bus,
But, here in this small town, I live only blocks from the school.
When you’re the new person like me, people tend to make a fuss,
Trying to decide whether or not you’re very cool.
My mother told me just before I left this morning
To just be myself and keep my head held up high.
She said we each have a story and none is boring.
If you always tell the truth, you’ll never have to lie.
I walk in the front door, trying to hide my fear,
Hoping noone can tell that I’m trembling inside.
The principal tells me that just because I’m new here
Doesn’t mean that it will always be a rough ride.
So, I gathered my things and hurried off to my class,
Where we all introduced ourselves politely, in turn.
Since I was the newest addition, I went last.
I stood up and told my new students, “My name is Ms. Kern.”
*NOTE: (Her name is actually pronounced Jo-anne)
My Aunt Joan, with dark sparkling eyes, was my FUN aunt!
The baby girl of her family (my mother was the eldest),
Joan and her husband Clifford lived in a small town 25 miles away.
I loved going there, especially being dropped off for a week in summer!
Aunt Joan’s husband Cliff was a teaser; I loved to see him
playing with Joan as they acted like flirty teens.
This I never saw between my own mother and my stepdad.
Joan would pile me and my sisters into her car
and take us to the grocery store for barbecue items and goodies -
the kinds of foods my mom would rarely buy for us.
Kraft macaroni and cheese she would fix for us– my favorite.
At night we horsed around, ate popcorn and saw movies.
I recall we even had a pillow fight one night!
Joan’s young son Chris played catch with me, and Uncle Cliff,
an amateur league baseball player, took us to see pro games.
Aunt Joan’s family moved out of state, so I hadn’t seen her -
not even at family reunions - since I left home too, nearly 50 years ago!
She’d got very sick after Cliff died, and she passed away this last May.
I pray she is reunited with dear Cliff. God bless my lovely Aunt Joan.
June 30, 2020 for Regina Riddle's In Loving Memory Poetry Contest
IN LOVING MEMORY of JOAN (Owens) Wolford 11/3/1939 to 5/13/2020
We are from a small town my husband and I
We met when I was four and he was five
At his Daddy’s store at the bottom or our hill.
He showed my twin and me his bunkbeds.
We thought they were cool.
When I was in first grade he chased me on the playground.
I had been holding my underpants up all day under my dress
Because the elastic had snapped.
When he grabbed me my panties fell off.
Miss Kneeland, our old maid teacher and principal brought us in.
She asked what happened.
He told her “when I grow up I am going to marry her.”
I hated him.
Ran into him again when we were ten.
My twin and I were trying to get into a store first
To buy the stereo for ten dollars. We were up at five a.m.
Waiting at the doors.
His parents dropped him off with a lawn chair and a radio at seven.
He told the manager of the store that we had been here since five.
But he knew where the stereo was and he had already sold it.
The manager said nothing, but let my twin in and let her buy it.
We could hear him screaming about the unfairness of it as we left.
He was arrogant and rude, and I despised him now more than ever.
When we were sixteen he came to the house and asked
“Would one of you …um…twins go out with me?”
My identical twin went running off screaming.
I saw how red his face was and said I would.
We became best friends after that
Which eventually led to fifty years together.
The old timers complain nowadays,
about how modern technology.
Is stealing away all their secrets and,
selling everyone's privacy.
Information is left up for grabs,
exposed for all of the world to see.
By touching a finger to a glass,
while they are hiding behind the scenes.
As my mother would always tell us,
“You do not air your dirty laundry.
But back in the day, if I farted,
she would know about it before me.
But I never could quite understand,
how anything could possibly be.
Less private than hanging my holey,
underwear outside for all to see.
If you're thinking that your 5G phone,
might be the fastest thing in the land.
Then you have never met my mother,
with a rotary phone in her hand.