Flowers in my hair
pigtails light as air
Sequenced bows oh what flair
for a pretty girl named Claire.
Many headbands I shall wear,
count them if you dare !
I find an album with matt thick black pages
my wet eyes hungry for each pose of this girl
in pigtails with a reluctant kitty, then on a bike
in a pretty prom dress, then holding a baby, me
turning the pages your smiles become frauds
your skin wrinkled, your pain quiet and graceful
Giggling and playing hopscotch
Indigo dreams of being a star
Running wild before training bra
Laughter and smiles come from heart
Pigtails and bikes dolls and skates
Onyx starry nights by the lake
Whimsical dreams esteemed out loud
Emerald queens and all girls scouts
Ready to live learn camping out
Peggy had never been a fighter or a scrapper or such
But she got tired of being teased by a bully named Hutch
He called her names, and pulled her pigtails too
This happened many days in a row, possibly twenty-two
Peggy finally had had it; she gave him as good as he got.
Punched him so hard, his nose released a keg full of snot
The other kids watched in horror; they were terrified of him.
He had already beaten-up Dickie, Tommy, Jerry and Jim.
The teacher had never seen a girl stand up to a bully this way.
When Peggy landed on him, she wanted to yell “hooray”.
But instead, she had to send her to the principal’s office to think.
So, you finally took on Hutch the bully, he said, with a wink.
Snow cascading
like white hair
down night's cold shoulder —
frost stitches,
mercury descension,
and mad raven streak —
her woman hair must flow,
the child in the mirror
with pigtails
one more season old —
snow melts or grows old,
a frigid connection,
boughs sometimes —
fall came and went
for blossoms —
and her nature has
fallen for it
The small bowl sits in the corner
Ceramic, lopsided, and beige
Small fingers impressed in the clay
Snake curled in the bottom awaits
Made for her momma in art class
Wee age of seven or eight
Initials inscribed at the bottom
A determined look on her face
Not really meant for her momma
Never liked her too much even then
But she did what her teacher told her
And offered it up mournfully
Mementos and pictures torn down
Sweet face and blonde pigtails a dream
The small bowl still sits in the corner
Snake curled at the bottom stares through
It catches the ashes that burn
From the incense she lights every night
Snake lurking below the embers
Of the fire that’s burning her heart
Pigtails sat tightly on her head
Curls poking through
And framing her face.
The bear kept her company,
Sat close by her head.
The dolls sat carefully placed
Drinking tea around the table.
Her name in blocks
Across the wall,
Not easily missed by passing eyes.
A rainbow spread above her bed,
Sparkles raining down,
A crown above her head.
Drawings littered the floor,
Colors outside the lines.
A perfect metaphor, she thought
For the life she had made.
The curtains are pulled
Closing off the sun
Yet the walls were still bright
And young
And innocent.
She stood in the doorway,
The image fading.
The walls were still bright,
But the memories dimmed.
As long as she stood there,
The room would not change.
They kept it the same,
No matter how long she was gone.
Her clothes were now dark,
Her hair loose and full.
She stared at the room,
For one last time
Hoping she could return
Although the hope
Would not last.
On the faded wallpaper what do I see,
an old picture on the parlor wall.
Many years ago grandma took it,
Sis and I were young and having fun.
On that very hot summer's day,
we were in shorts and pigtails.
Grandma always said she loved that picture,
we did not know why because we hated it.
With grandma long passed,
I can now see what she saw.
Two cute girls having way too much fun,
on that very hot summer's day.
Like the faded wallpaper on the parlor wall,
the picture and time have also faded far away.
She smells like nothing
To the whole world
Tattered dress ripped leggings
Pigtails on the sad girl
No one sees her face
She slinks around
All hopes and dreams
Shattered no fortunes found
Onlookers judge her dirty clothes
Unrecognizable the sweet
Child of nobody and no one
Raised in the street
She smells like nothing
To the whole world
those moments i hold
when love held me
jewels that adorn my memory
some are of you
others are lodges far deeper
a populated field of young
wannabe future all-stars
filling a sandlot full of future
where wild horses reign free
you lost in hugging the dog
the cat cuddles up next to you
even deeper those pigtails
the temptation before me
how else do you tell them
I have it bad for you
which I had perfected
the moment I saw you
that instant love brings you
into its' sweet embrace
and so I measure life
as such
these jewels within memory
and nothing in life may intrude
bitterness stands as an anathema
before Grace
I give no quarter to resentments
because I have no expectations
wherever life takes me
this is the only bag I carry
love's sweet embrace
life is a miracle
deserving a devotion of gratitude
Oregon 7/23
sixties memories
home town, Iowa
I was just a kid
riding upside down
on a loop-da-plane
4th of July
carnival ride
my pigtails fly
upside down sky
loving it
fuzzy blurs
screaming now
joyful
thrilling
fun
Her ginger pigtails remind me of something he says.
I stare at him. They are like Pippi Longstocking, I reply.
No, that’s not it.
Yes, it is I think.
I think it was someone on Tik Tock.
Pretending to be Pippi Longstocking I interject.
Not even close, he replies.
I stop trying.
Knowing his mind is closed
Or maybe he is too young to know
Where these pigtails originated
Back in the forties.
When Jimmy ate the paste,
there was a smile on Susan's face
Her pigtails he wanted to pull,
but the teacher had rules.
Recess came with a ding and a dong,
Susan then followed Jimmy alone.
His face turned red as she pecked his cheek,
This was Jimmy’s first kiss.
I met her in a bar in Trinidad,
a mother to the sisterhood was she -
three little girls what merry fun we had
and what sweet memories of you and me.
Madame Estrella, a tongue like a sword,
and Miss Heidi glamour puss in turn rolled
the tumbling dice on the ludo game board
with pigtails and rainbows and hearts of gold.
And sweet shy Gypsy up on Cotton Hill
wise beyond early years on me impress,
little barmaids my glass and soul did fill -
I miss your rare grace, joy, and youthfulness.
I will return so let the games begin
and for the last call at Pelican Inn.
Written: March 1993
She is stranger than I the little girl informed her mother.
Her name is Jaycee, and she is funny, and she likes me.
Her mother was thrilled that Samantha had a friend.
It had been a long time coming.
She had made it to third grade without any real friends.
Jaycee says this, Jayce does that. Jayce wants to…..
Jaycee, Jaycee, Jaycee……. and so, it went.
Samantha was incredibly happy with this classmate.
Conferences were held in October.
Samantha’s mother mentioned Jaycee to the teacher.
Expressing how glad she was that Samantha had a friend.
The teacher said they had no one in the class named Jaycee.
Samantha’s mother described her – blonde hair, blue eyes.
Pigtails, and she likes wearing a pink shirt with a unicorn.
The teacher showed Samantha a photo of her daughter the next day.
You look so cute in this photo! Samantha said to the chair next to her.
Jaycee had died in an automobile accident ten years before.
She had been eight and was in the third grade.
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