Long Teenaged Poems
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children's laughter
on the beach. . .
storm clouds gather
My husband, I, and our two teenaged children are enjoying a picnic when we feel slow heavy droplets that develop quickly into an assault of angry pounding rain. We rush to our boat to return to the dock twenty minutes away. My son and I are alongside the boat on WaveRunners we have rented. As the wind strengthens, mighty moving ridges came rolling before our eyes. Fear grips my heart; my son begins to sob. I call out,"It's ok," trembling in the downpour.
All at once, one single billow heaves itself completely over our boat. My spouse and daughter desperately try to bail out water from the sinking boat as my husband directs my son and I to race to the shore for help. I now truly understand the reason for the name WaveRunners, for I am running for all our lives as my heart beats to the rhythm of the lake’s surging waves.
Help comes, but our rescuers drag our boat out of the lake upside down, wrecking it. Having just had a nervous breakdown months ago, my husband cannot bear the destruction of this prized possession, provider of his sanity.
our children's cries
as my husband blankly stares. . .
my unheard pleas
Revised for the "Emotions that Rock You" Contest of Craig Cornish
VERSE 1.
Some people ask for more;
I'm an unwed mother;
Teen born in my loneliness;
I just want love, from anyone;
Some people past for joy;
I'll take any one;
While others seek bigger and better toys;
Now I don't want much and I don't ask for gold;
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
VERSE 2
Some people ask for more
Some people past for joy;
Some people pace the floors;
While others seek bigger and better joys;
I explore as you close the doors (on me)
Now I still don't want no silver or gold (silver or gold)
I just want to be held, want to be loved
What does this teenaged girl knows??. . . .
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
Reframe:
I'm suspended yet independent still no nothing;
Trying to be grown and. . .
of this I shouldn't ignored;
My life has just been reborn;
Impregnated in my sins,
Did' I say I was just a teen
My life has just been reborn, a child from God is love;
No matter how he comes
others say he must stop, but I 'll carry him til I drop;
As the boat leaves for shore;
he's my
Mother's Baby Boy
Chorus:
My heart is purple;
Purple is as the rose;
Rose to the occasion;
And I am not by any means whole;
I stand in this land of pearls jewels, nor raisin Cain;
As a boat leaves the shore,
you leave me alone with
Mother's Baby Boy
09/19/71
from the Short
Story Play Omaha North High School/UNO College entry:
"Mother's Baby Boy"
I am a teenaged girl in
The year 1988
I'm so full of excitement
To be going on this date
As I get myself ready
I really must say,
It really can't be good
To use this much hair spray.
Big hair and bright colors
Is the style today
A shirt off the shoulder
Or jeans that are frayed.
My date has arrived
flowers are on my wrist
I take one more look
To make sure nothing has been missed
The gyms filled with streamers
balloons floating in the air.
We see our friends
andmake our way over there
They played the best music
Bands I like to listen to
Madonna, Van Halen,
The Cure and U2
We danced all night
And had such a blast
Dancing and laughing
I wished it all would last.
Some time from now
I will think of this date
When I went to the dance
As a teen in '88.
3/12/2020
Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest
The discovery at aged seventy
Explained to me at last
The source of my problems
From way way back in my past.
Not just a clumsy country idiot,
All my life there’d been a cause,
A condition called Dyspraxia
Had me firmly held in its claws.
With the rhythm of a stick insect
Feet that didn’t act like a pair
But with a few glasses of Pils
I became a teenaged Fred Astaire
And the lovely leggy Helga
Seemed to think so as well
As though that dance floor
Held us under its certain spell.
He would sit in the bar
Through the open door
As I squired his wife
On that little dance floor.
Nineteen sixties style dancing
Bodies seldom came in touch
But when dancing with Helga
That didn’t matter very much
Just the flaring of her skirt
Could set me on fire.
Heinz was a friend and
So I reined in any desire.
Blonde Helga would whisper
Tomorrow night he’s on shift
Wait around the corner and
I’ll come and give you a lift.
Come and visit our house
We can grab the chance
To practice alone.
Our own special dance.
But, Heinz was a friend,
A big daft trusting bloke
So I just treated it all
As an ongoing joke.
We would still chat
And we would still flirt
As I treasured every glimpse
Provided by her flaring skirt
Enjoying those hours when
My feet, that unmatched pair,
Helped me In my mind
To dance like Fred Astaire.
The days weeks and months
Moved inexorably on
And my time at the regiment
Was finally gone…
One dance with Helga
Became our very last,
She disappeared from my life
To beome a memory from my past.
The Highwaymen softly play
Me And Bobby Magee
And for the next four hours
Every single drink is free.
Order what you like friend
And stick it on the slate
Tonight we’re saying goodbye
To my best and oldest mate.
On the bar in isolation stands
The Absent Friend’s Drink,
At the end of the night to be
Quickly poured down the sink.
Like every other human being
He was good and bad in parts
A fact that becomes apparent
When the reminiscing starts.
A man of strong opinions
Which he carried to the end
And we didn’t always agree
Me and this good old friend.
It was a friendship of honesty
We didn’t tell each other lies
We just agreed to differ and
Each learned to compromise.
From teenaged Squaddies
To men of retirement age
We remained mates through
Every changing life stage.
Strong willed, as often
Wrong as he was right
He never ever conceded
Without a spirited fight.
A mam of surprises
A man seemingly apart
But not far below the surface
One of good and kind heart.
The free bar has closed
Heaven knows how big the slate
But we gave a fitting farewell
To my much missed old mate.
I’ve drunk so many pints as
This night draws to its end
But I’m stone cold sober
As I think of my old friend
The Absent Friend’s Drink
Has been quietly poured away
Marking the official end of this
His wake and funeral day.
The music’s switched off.
Now just a big empty room
That, to quote the apt saying
Is almost silent as a tomb.
One last look around to check
Then they switch off the light
And tired staff follow us out
Into the darkness of the night.
A teenaged tourist asked his dad
Why all the cars were “beeping.”
It happened right near Central Park,
With traffic slowly creeping.
His dad believed the honking was
So cars ahead would go.
The son replied that “beeping”
Wouldn’t help or make it so.
I wanted to explain to them
What honking’s all about –
Frustration builds inside and soon
It needs an exit out.
A city driver at a crawl
Will often start to lose it;
His horn is there for times like these
And he’ll be glad to use it.
So this “beeping,” as the tourists say,
Helps keep the driver sane.
I guess to out-of-towners,
It’s a hard thing to explain.
It seems most rural drivers
Don’t have need to use their horn.
Perhaps the way we drive reflects
The place where we were born.
She seemed to float into the dance.
Stunning, emerald-like, on a silver cloud.
With ruby red lips, whispering velvet sounds.
We, young girls, knew we hadn’t a chance.
Our clothes were anything but magical.
Teenaged girls, were overcome by her beauty.
Boys hypnotized ,ogling her, as if it was their duty?
Her beauty, we saw was nearly celestial!
I wondered, could I ever look like her?
Where does one become a temptress,
That leaves boys so totally breathless?
The alarm clock rang, my dream was a blur.
I-21-2022
~1~
There’s Scottie in his chair
Tongue firmly in his cheek
Trying to wind up Old Noel,
The highlight of his week.
Noel, over eighty, Veteran
Of the Korean War
Gives as good as he gets
And dishes out much more.
Gordon’s his visiting carer
Sits there with a big grin
Not himself a veteran but
He’s managed to fit in.
Big Dave is eating as usual
Throwing in the odd word,
The vision of him ever fitting
In a tank now patently absurd.
Crann’s the honorary caretaker
Helping out while he waits
For his entry Visa to join
His fiancee over in the states.
Emily the teenaged volunteer
Who won’t take any lip
Has those hardened veterans
Under her slender finger tips.
Tuesday morning at The Centre,
Stacks of admin there to do,
Bur I’ve had to close the office
And get on with the brew.
It’s not yet ten o’clock
The Drop-in looks nearly full
Already starting the craic
The banter and the bull.
So many other people coming
In and out in a steady flow
As one comes in another
Just seems to get up go.
Regimental rivalries
Black Forces Humour
Downright lies and
Manufactured rumour.
Hobbie’s by the door
Taking the whole scene in,
Vic’s chatting to Chris
Who’s sat there with a grin.
That’s the way it used to be
But now it’s closed and gone
In a Covid changed world
Where things have moved on.
So many years we lasted
Existing from day to day
And then for some reason
We seemed to lose our way.
The rise of the Pandemic
Seemed to be the last straw
And the founding spirit just
Wasn’t’ there any more.
The Drop-in that helped so many
Was just too good to last
Like so many valued things
Just a memory of the past.
"On the day that you were born, the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue." From the Carpenters' "Close to You"
How I wish I had some special tune
recalling romance underneath the moon
for one specific moment in my life -
but even when I first became a wife,
no song was there for my spouse and me.
I think and I think. What song might there be?
One song there was a long long time ago
coming to my mind; it’s lyrics I know
by heart! Its meaning held me in its thrall.
Most words of songs I barely can recall!
The song, a big hit, made me kind of blue.
A song for dreamers – it was “Close to You.”
So wistful is the woman we hear long
to be close to her dream man. It’s a song
a day dreamer just like myself would play
again and then again back in “the day.”
Sweet tinge of angst Karen Carpenter brought
to lyrics of the dream of love she sought.
That singer died young, but she well knew of
the type of young man most young women love -
“A dream come true” with “hair of gold” and “eyes
of blue” by angels made – a special prize!
There was a boy for whom I used to pine
like in the lyrics of the song – divine!
I’d put my record on and I would hear
the line “why do birds suddenly appear
every time you are near?” Then I would sigh -
my teenaged heart so pained that I could cry.
No matter what, my dream boy would ignore
the girl I was . . . and would be evermore!
Aug 4, 2020
for Beth Evans' Same Old Song Poetry Contest
A muted awakening this morning
By a gentle wind driven rain
Beating a light tat rat tat rat
On the half open window pane,
Waking me with the trio of
Rain, whispering breeze
And the sighing of swaying
Many branched trees,
Rolling back the memories,
Teenaged late mornings in bed
In the little village cottage
Hands clasped behind my head
In a sort of magic detached state
Of wind and tree and bird song
Peaceful, enduring, lasting
The whole day and night long.
A world never ever thought to change
But, now except in memory, long gone.
Time’s moved on, life got faster
Villages no longer isolated
As distances shrunk,
Journey times decimated
And, in my old age in my home
Once again encircled by trees
I can lie in bed in my dotage and
Once again listen to a singing breeze,
Recapture that sense of awe and peace
With a noise that can never ever fail
To bring me peace in advancing age.
Is life a circle, a snake biting it’s tail’
Does time, in some way reverse
And then restart its flow
As fashions start and stop
And trends and foibles come and go.