I walked as a grey kid
lost in his own hometown streets.
When my slow mind
began to see more clearly
it saw brick dusted air
and a sunlight blotched with yesterday's scabs.
There were small parks in that part of the city,
where the shabby slept and fornicated,
a wilted grass
was dotted with used condoms
and patchworked with dog urine.
We thought it fine
to explore those sleazy acres
parents behind us, we running ahead.
as if we were discovering paradise.
The clouds would give way,
and a light fell upon this new world of ours
as if newly painted.
For a while, we kids saw each other as
playmates and not intractable rivals.
Later, back in the crowded reek
of the crumbling tenements,
we grew soul-blind once more.
We hoped that the God
we had been instructed to love
occasionally watched over us,
that perhaps once a week
He checked us all out,
from the far side of a city park.
I well remember 'yesterday'.
I am experiencing 'today'.
I have great expectations
and hopes for 'tomorrow',
BECAUSE I HAVE LEARNED
THAT WE CAN CHANGE.
When as a child, my playmates
and I watched the clouds turn
grey and the sunlight go away,
we played in the barn on the
hay and plated the Maypole
in the Month of May.
When once upon a time in my
home state, it seemed to me
that hate poured down like
rain, flooding the human
landscape with pain. There
was enough misery to drive weak
ones insane, and no one gained.
BUT I LEARNED THAT WE CAN CHANGE.
When once upon a time I was ashamed
to mention my home state by name;
When I was reluctant to say where
I was from; and I dreaded to utter
the word 'Mississippi' upon my tongue.
Fortunately, that was once upon a time. I moved away after high school when I was 17; 58 years ago.
Since then there has been a changing of minds. I have
much gratitude to God, and I hasten to add, I AM CLEARLY SEEING A CHANGE.
Life and Death
Life and death, both one, don’t care, but life isn’t a couch
I know my life is finite, maybe, maybe infinite, but all is one
It comes from the only One and goes far, disappears,
but continues to arise
Live, life goes on, my heart is ticking, blood rushes in my head;
sign of end
Life is mortal, let the end be my new life, and my soul forgotten
My life and death are one, my soul soared, and the depth of my hell
is endless
Death and Life
Friends?
Are they friends?
Enemies?
Are they enemies?
Playmates
I am one of them, but both
Good friends
They are good mates
I love and respect them
Long life my death!
Viva my death!
I am a child
child-like, not childish
I retain my innocence
and my whimsy
creativity and imagination are my playmates
I can entertain myself for hours and hours
I am my own person, listening to my inner voice
my guardian angel helps me
My muse stands ready
we are playful together
both childlike and true to ourselves
I am a whimsical child
A quest involving traveling
from the West Coast to the Midwest
to express a debt of gratitude to
individuals for their long ago
graciousness toward me. In a world
of selfishness and greed, selfless
Goodness must never go unacknowledged.
A quest to renew acquaintances
with long-ago friends and reminisce
about the childhood years we shared.
I met one of my childhood playmates.
My soul was swallowed up in an emotional
deluge as I cried and held him tight.
A quest to see places and communities
I once roamed and called my home.
The end game of this quest unveiled
emotions difficult to describe. I was
a stranger 50 years removed. So much
of what I once touched and handled
was no longer there. I wept inside.
A quest to share the presence of the
pastor who officiated our wedding. My
long-awaited desire to see once again
a hero of mine was accomplished some
2 years before his demise.
This quest that was initiated more than 15
years ago, is alive and well. Some of this
quest I'm on has been accomplished,
creating deep joy and tears of satisfaction
that are hard to describe. I am very blessed.
When I was young, I named my doll Boyet
I played with him from sunrise to sunset
We’d some souvenir photos together
He was my precious gift from my godmother.
Our photo was framed and displayed at home
Showing his bald head, no need to comb
My mom had stitched tiny clothes for him
Along with mine, we were both looking prim.
One day, I played at the shore with my neighbors
Then built a small coconut hut far from the harbor
I brought Boyet for our role-play as a family
We slept there overnight with my dog, Willy.
Before dawn, an expected storm came
We all ran back home like a racing game
We left our toys and tools in our play house
Including Boyet wrapped in my old blouse.
When we returned the following day
Unimaginable wreckage was on display
Boyet got lost along with my playmates’ dolls
I cried out loud scaring all the seagulls.
(This is a parody of "Frankie and Johnny")
Charlie and Molly were playmates.
Golly, how they could play.
Mornings they'd meet at a corner
to plan how they'd spend summer days.
He was her pal, and she was his gal!
Molly ran down to their corner,
a melody filling her head.
The ice cream man was a-coming.
She searched for her Charlie instead.
He was her pal, and she was his gal.
She asked the ice cream vendor,
"Has my Charlie-boy been by?"
"I seen him with some cutie-pie
back there," was his reply.
He was her chum, but he was a bum!
Molly took off like a rocket,
for she knew who the "cutie-pie" was.
And sure enough she found him.
She lost it right there because
he was her chum, but he was a bum.
There by a scummy ditch
as he kissed her neighbor Grace,
Molly unwrapped her ice cream bar
and smeared it all over his face.
Then she kicked that bum into the scum!
"Pick me up and quick.
Pick me up from this ditch.
Now I've nothing," said Johnny
"when once I was so rich.
I was your pal . . . now I've lost my gal."
April 10, 2023
“recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, live breezes blown..”
Quote by _ Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Child Performers
My father most strict!
Only one ultimate verdict:
“Read read and study.”
No fun, no entertainment.
In childhood me imprisoned.
I prayed to allow:
At least in school vacation.
To learn music-dance.
Prayer was not considered.
Oblivious refusal.
Me energetic.
Trained playmates by whimsy skill.
Enthusiasm!
Arranged Kiddish dance drama.
Stage show followed in Merry.
Summer vacation:
Enjoyed with all child artists.
My dynamic throw.
Succeeded to build a team.
The start of ‘ Child Performers’.
10/19/22
Writing Challenge : Past Memories T - series
Contest by Constance La France
team building playhouse
with my neighborhood playmates
made from coconuts
great creativity showed
while lovingly watched by dad
Aug 6, 2022 3.46pm
PS Syllable counter
Syllables Per Line: 5 7 5 7 7
Total # Syllables: 31
Note:
The poem was inspired by my most unforgettable and most treasured childhood memory with my playmates. I was 7 to 8 years old that time. My playmates and neighbors were Sis Gem (10 yrs old; role: mom), Bro. Edgar (9yrs. old; role: father), Blessie (6 yrs old;role: child ) and my younger bro. Jess (6yrs old; role: child). My role was one of the siblings. My dad was our watcher. This moment was so precious having him watching my safety. Sometimes, he helped us find some materials for building our playhouse. The materials were coconut leaves, coco-midribs, large and small, coconut husks, coconut shells etc.
Childhood Nostalgia
Contest Judged: 8/31/2022 2:06:00 AM
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
Place 1 (up to 2nd place multi-w)
Sometimes, close families can fall apart;
too hard to understand in hindsight's view-
when growing up together bound each heart.
As cousins, we were playmates, tight and true-
and born to sisters who were dear and kind.
But bonds began to break down as we grew.
In time, we moved away- they stayed behind,
and distance fed the gap to widen more-
until the silence 'tween us was resigned.
Now, strangers to those who we did adore,
we cherish photos of that precious spell
when life was simple, fed by good rapport.
Though other branches on our tree hang well-
heartbreak about this lost one- can't dispel.
July 12, 2022
Premiere Contest: Five Stanza Terza Rima
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
From the ancestors
Generations to generations
Lives carry on like new sprouts
And flourishing like a jungle
Newborns are our hope
Nowadays newborns are totally different
Imbedded in an aircond surrounding
With love and care
A lot of toys
A lot of playmates
Hyperactive, alert and wise
Will carry on the family tree
And our mission
A mission of love of course
As children we revelled in nature’s playground
Lying in cool grass watching clouds sail by
Sharing with playmates ‘treasures’ we’d found
Caterpillars, beetles - a dead dragonfly
Jars of black tadpoles sprouting from frogs’ eggs
Gathered near cattails - a muddy pond’s edge
Safe in a matchbox - a daddy longlegs
We pine for these days as memory we dredge
So keep them in mind - those halcyon days
Whenever our cares prove too much to bear
When life becomes an impossible maze
Try to escape to a peaceful ‘somewhere’
Remember the lessons from nature you drew
They’ll always there to help pull you through
Two days before
I found out
I would have a second grandchild,
the still small voice
asked me,
“Could you love another grandchild
the way you love her?”
You see I loved my granddaughter
with ALL my heart.
The second born would eye me,
as I’d leave, hand in hand with her sister,
each day, out the door.
Did I love her less?
Her big tear grew in mass,
puddled at the corner of her eye.
Was it there every day?
Was this just
the first time I really saw her?
I carried this tear away from her home.
Her sister would complain.
Of course she would -
suddenly there was two
playmates for grandma.
Four grandsons would join the lineup.
Would grandma choose
a favorite?
I answer the still small voice,
“I love them all, you know…”
8/25/2021
Grey Ghosts of the Sea
Mysterious mammals –
Grey ghosts of the sea –
Gliding between shore and ocean
Seafaring playful guardians –
Following strong currents –
Smiling whimsy – sea clown with fins
Leaping up in greeting -
Gymnasts of the sea –
Sometimes flipping in somersaults
Singing shanty sea songs -
Clicking squealing lyrics–
Echoing in the sea’s trenches
Close families of pods –
Jesters surfing on waves -
Travels oceans and seven seas
Neptune’s playmates frolic -
Gleaming silver satin –
Delicate skin can get sunburned.
Wond’rous bright eyed creatures –
Guardians of grace –
I dream of riding on their backs.
8-20-21
Contest: Writing Prompt Oceans or Seas
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Being born in the Year of the Monkey did not affect me at all
Except I love surprising, tricking and playing with people.
Trees are my favorite places to be and I hang upside down often.
I like the chitter chatter of lunchrooms, so I guess I was wrong.
It affected me a tiny bit.
I am child-like, not childish, but some people do not understand.
The other ones who were born in the Year of the Monkey do.
They are my most avid fans, playmates, and confidants.
We gravitate toward each other, speaking of silly, fun things.
Banana and peanut butter pancakes? Me too! Me too!
You loved the Curious George books? Oh, yes,
And the man in the yellow hat. We resonate with each other.
We are the jokesters, the players, the thrill-seekers.
We are the ones born in the Year of the Monkey
And we all do it well with a sense of fun.
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