Long Young girl Poems
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I stole an hour from work
Drove a few blocks from our downtown office
To a cemetery
And there
In my preferred shady spot to park
Where I typically meditate
With all four windows wide open
Gulping the afternoon autumn wind
Shaving my face to young again
In the rearview mirror
Brian Doyle’s last book opened
But today? No
Another soul
A fellow survivor in their coffin car
I found praying there first
So I give her the space
Crawl on
Find another blotted out lace of umbra
Just as good
On a little inclined peppermint hill
The road so narrow
I wonder whether I’ve made a mistake
Accidentally driving up more of a walking path
Eye of the needle
I try to let it go
Unfold
My bible
Next to me
Little pale graves nub in the grass
Like breadcrumbs
Celtic dates from the mid-1800s
And beyond
Not just a deer
But a buck with a large antler rack
Looks back
To me
Undisturbed from his grazing
How could this be?
To grow so old and grand
Contained forever in this ancient park
Squared by the city?
With nowhere to go
No place to be free?
Or maybe he is very very free
A ghost satisfied with his grateful rest?
He’s had enough
We both are startled
Perhaps with the same thought?
Or was it that red car creaking on its springs
Inching past us
Departing
Young girl looks over
Book in hand
Gives a little wave
Smiles
Either to me or the buck
Who knows?
As if telling us to relax
She won’t tell.
When I was a young girl I wanted to find true love, and I thought I knew
what love was.
But soon I would figure out what true love wasn't.
It wasn't the time he took my dog
to the pound and lied telling them he found him roaming on his property, just so he could
get rid of him.
It wasn't the time his jealousy made him
attempt to break me and my fiance apart with
his lies and hurt ego.
It's funny how time teaches you, and how
the mistakes one makes in life actually helps you to eventually see a persons true colors.
It wasn't you, it was me, yes I wanted to go.
I'm glad I was that young girl who got a
second chance to find true love.
I'm forever grateful I was stopped
by a handsome, caring, loving, and honest
officer who gave me advice and my first
ticket for true love.
We have been married for twenty nine years,
and God smiles every time he sees us together.
There was a young girl on Long Bay
Her swim shorts began to show fray
Rip spread up the seam
I thought I would scream
When chubby cheeks went on display!
May 4, 2015
~1st Place~
Contest: Proverbial Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Judged: 02/26/2023
Proverb Chosen: “A Stitch in Time Saves Nine”
A Stitch In Time
~1st Place~
Contest: Dumb and Dumber Personal Quote
Sponsor: John Freeman
Judged: 06/18/2015
~3rd Place~
Contest: Traditional Limerick
Sponsor: Viv Wigler
Judged: 04/12/2018
The 'stitch in time' notion has been current in English for a
very long time and is first recorded in Thomas Fuller's
Gnomologia, Adagies and Proverbs, Wise Sentences and
Witty Sayings, Ancient and Modern,
Foreign and British, 1732
Once upon a time there lived
a young girl
Who eventually was to grow up
inevitably later into a young
women
And when she did all she ever
wanted and dreamed of endlessly
then was to have a young daughter
of her very own
And in time she surely did which
in tern made here complete and
truly happy having seemingly
had her every waking wish duely
granted
Now as the story goes just 2
short years after having her
beautiful baby girl
1 morning whilst in the shower
peering down she noticed her hair
was starting to fall out
Then after booking an appointment
with her G.P in order to get it checked
out
She was later on her precluding
follow up appointment to discover
she was to be diagnosed with
terminal cancer
And what was to become of her
daughter
Well she herself no more than
2 years later to the day her very
self be diagnosed destined to
suffer the same erroneous fate
And all her family and countless medical caregivers had as cold
comfort to offer her was both
sadly and unfortunately nothing
more and other than this
Your Mommy loves you so much
she cannot wait to see her beautiful
little baby angel again in heaven
And she left as she came into
this world with a smile beaming
across her face outwardly displaying
such joy and carefree abandonment
lust and verve for life
The likes of which this world i
fear may never ever see once
again as it was a once in a lifetime
as was she
Reading the deaths column in
the Echo i believe her funeral
is this coming sunday at her
local church where she will
be burried beside her mother
One can only pray and hope
that God will be there for both
her and her mother this time
if at all
“Who are you?” A young girl asked me in the bookstore after giving me a quizzical look.
I smiled and told her, “I am the man who’ll help you find a book”.
“And who are you?” I asked…she looked at me and smiled innocently…then pointing out the obvious she answered, “I am me!”.
As she walked away I had to wonder how many different ways I could reply to her simple, honest and straightforward query…to her question…”Who am I?”.
I am a child whenever I eat ice cream or dance out in the rain…
I am a friend when I share another friend’s happiness…or help to ease their pain.
I am a poet (or at least I try to be) with words like these I write…
I am a husband when I hold hands with Deborah…or give her a kiss goodnight.
I am a dad to our three children…even when they’re far away.
I am a brother, a cousin, an uncle…depending on the day.
I am a PopPop who has been a horse, a magician…with his own magic show…
I am a person who’s been blessed to watch his children and grandchildren grow.
Sometimes I’ve been all these people in a single afternoon!
It’s as if they’re always with me…like the stars that surround the moon.
For who I am is not an easy concept to truly comprehend…and after giving it some thought the best answer is most likely…”It depends”.
It depends on what circumstances I am in…on what I’m asked to do…
It depends on where I am…and who I’m talking to
And when you stop to think about it…It’s fun to look at life this way…
never knowing, when the day begins, how many ‘mes' I’ll be today.
And as for that young girl who waved to me as she left the store sucking on her thumb…I had to smile as I waved back thinking of all the ‘mes’ she will become.
The tree was magnificent in all its green glory
Its limbs spread proud and true
Beautifully shaped and full of new growth
It stood tall against the blue.
Many a child it had seen evolve
In the seventy years in the yard.
Silently there but always aware
Some years were particularly hard.
The summer of 64 was the year
When the teenage boy ran away
The mother spent many a day in the shade
As the tree kept the sadness away.
82 was the year of the storm
When the tornado threatened its world
But the tree stood firm and survived the blow
Of the wind as it turned and swirled.
1994 was especially hard
When the collie named Shep had died.
Now buried below the tree by the rock
It watched as the young girl cried.
The wedding was beautiful all in white
As the daughter became a bride.
Out in the yard, under the old oak tree
Even the father cried.
The rocking chairs now sit on the porch
As the age of the parents shows.
The old oak tree looks worse for wear
But a new young tree seedling grows.
The skyline overseas,
The starlight’s not empty
Just freedom
Just freedom
No hurt, work out our careers
Fleetwood Mac is all I hear
David Bowie playing, nice and loud
Hurt, we can’t allow
The stars are full,
No time to sleep
Freedom’s all we need
No hurt, we work on our careers
Music’s all we hear
David Bowie playing, nice and loud
Hurt, we can’t allow
Just ride into the sun,
Freedom
Lessons, we’re learning
Step into sun
Meeting, retreating
A lost history
If on edge,
Will I learn how to just be?
Lean on it. Love it. Live in history.
Keep it. Believe it. Stood still, retreat.
Just a young girl,
With no,
Purpose to be
Trees changing, exchanging
Their colours, they blur
Elated, showcasing
Their gift to the world
If I believe it,
Then will it work?
Or will I live out my life
Rearranging the hurt?
She’s laughing,
And I’m laughing
Just like she’s alive
A sunken spirit
Uplifted the skies
If I believe it,
Then will it work?
Or will I live out my life
Rearranging the hurt?
Driving faster,
Songs blaring
We sing along
No hurting, just Fleetwood
Our favourite songs
If I believe it,
Then will it work?
Or will I live out my life
Rearranging the hurt?
Will I live out my life
Rearranging the hurt?
See this girl in the painting, this skinny girl
working on a puzzle at the bottom of the stairs.
With big rimmed glasses and her plain brown hair,
she’s an ordinary girl, with nothing seeming special.
Now see this girl. . . really SEE this girl.
At age 12, she’s just been fitted with new glasses -
They are black horn-rimmed - an utter disappointment
in the life of a young girl.
Some guys now call her four-eyes, and they don’t even notice
the beauty of her light green eyes and
long lush lashes behind those big-framed glasses.
But still she likes to fantasize, and in her dreams
she’s idolized by every boy she likes.
Always having wanted to be part of the “in” crowd,
she was a girl that struggled for popularity.
However, she’s been learning of another way to be!
Seeking out girls more like her, she hardly has to try
to fit in with her new friends. And now she’s much less shy.
With fun new friends, she is witty. She makes them laugh.
She’s even feeling pretty, wearing lipstick frosty pink.
She’s discovered she is smart in all her classes.
This girl who now is wearing black rimmed glasses!
She gets into the Glee Club, even sings on PBS!
With her athleticism, she also has success.
She makes Top Twelve in tryouts for cheerleading.
And though the student body does not vote her through,
she’ll soon get over it. She’s blossoming!
The glasses she will change for contact lenses,
and she does not know it yet,
but soon enough - a number of boyfriends she will get!
Also years of dance lessons and being in recitals
has boosted her self confidence.
Both her body and her spirit are transforming!
See the girl in the painting; a puzzle she assembles.
She does not know that one day
her mind will be on puzzles of a very different kind:
She will be assembling many words inside her mind,
and she will be partaking in an art called poetry.
I know all this because
the girl inside that painting - that ordinary girl -
is the one I used to be.
Based on the painting "Assembling the Pieces"
from Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande
for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of Cyndi MacMillan
I hope you will see the painting at this link. When I saw the girl, I was
struck by how much it looked like me as a young girl: http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/
This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.
It was sent by a medical doctor.
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight? Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last. Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask, “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last.
Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow? and in your haste not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die, cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi', ...You'd better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last..
When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day it is like an unopened gift .
Thrown away. Life is not a race, do take it slower, hear the music,
before the song is over.
By: David L. Weatherford
Drained of every drop of pride she cups her hands in vain
As eyes seek to escape her haunting gaze.
Gaunt and pale, her spirits crushed, young mind and body slain,
Existence is one long and dreary haze.
Sometimes in her dreamlike state she sees another life
Where happiness and peace walked hand in hand,
There a young girl freely plays, no thoughts of future strife,
So many future hopes and dreams were planned.
Destined, so it seemed, to suffer countless human woes,
False hope came in angelic sweet disguise,
So now enslaved, addicted, she is helpless to abstain;
The girl who begs while inwardly she cries,
And one more grieving Mother sadly sighs
As demons recommence their evil lies.
28.08.19
'Eight word challenge contest' sponsored by Emile Pinet'