Remembering Me
I dreamed of you once
You were just a child
Running through a field
Hair; tangled and wild
Reflections of the sun
Danced across your face
And I wondered aloud
How do I know this place
You sat down cross-legged
Under a magnificent tree
You were singing a song
With a familiar melody
I sang along; eyes closed
And tried to remember
When I had loved life
With as much fervor
Soft rain began to fall
So I joined you there
You made a daisy chain
And placed it in my hair
Ring-around-the-rosy
And hide-and-seek we played
Peek-a-boo and Simon says
A memory in time was made
I wish I could be like you
I whispered in the wind
Being free and young again
Enjoying games of pretend
I didn't think you'd heard me
You looked at me and smiled
I am you, you see here now
You've just been gone awhile
I'm a book you forgot you'd read
I've been hidden in your heart
Just take me out and dust me off
And you'll remember where to start
Its all you Spring with your patter sounds of raindrop
and your clear cut droplets, of refresh-petrichor !
Inside this scented garden you immerse and thrive,
through channels of irrigative pleasures, a flower grows;
Daffodil waltzes and tulip lip tangos
Violet kisses in a garden ballroom
April birdlings nipping and pecking
Dahlias and fuchsia hollyhocks, rock and rolling round the clock
square dance petunias doing the Scottish fling
a ring around the rosy, takes me to my posies;
Childhood memories of a London bridge,
ablaze with angel dust and innocent white flowers
Its all you spring yes, always you
most beautiful season of all you make my heart sing.
March 7, 2022
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Contest Name Spring Showers or Spring Flowers
*“Ring around the Rosy. A pocketful of posies.
Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.” - a nursery rhyme
Gone to ashes.
Each town was a burial ground
gone to ashes.
Multitudes wore rosy rashes;
The Black Death’s ring was on them found.
Dead bodies smoldered all around. . . .
gone to ashes.
Now children chant
“Ashes, ashes,” while in a ring.
Now children chant
and they’re strangely exuberant!
Of pockets of posies they sing
and think not of one deathly thing!
Now children chant.
Written by Andrea Dietrich/ Feb. 16, 2012
and inspired by nette onclaud's
ALPHABETS OF RONDELET Poetry Contest
(I chose Ashes, but also Chant was used
in verse two).
*Please click on "about this poem" to see
the origin of the nursery rhyme it discusses.
They ride bareback on Unicorns, until Pegasus Flies by
They mount the silk white steed, and go soaring in the sky
They touch a Double Rainbow, each finger a different hue
They Draw a Home, a MOM, a Dad; as 4 year olds will do
They catch a little Leprechan, and Win his pot of Gold
They play Ring Around the Rosy, with King Arthur, Brave and Bold
They oft go to the Pearly Gates : Mom's Heart and Hands to Hold
Inspired by Juanita Garcia; who lost her twin Boys in a tragic House Fire
Dedicated to Juan and Jose Garcia : 4/29/2006 - 11/22/2010 "Rest in Peace"
Scrubb and scrubb and wipe away
But you're back the next day
Thick and grimy even kind of slimy
Foamy and hairy really kind of scary!
Oh my aching back, we are under attack
Soap scum ring, cut me some slack
Nuclear power ships have been created
But tell me how the soap scum ring can be annihilated?
Children come into this world innocent and pure,
Free from the allure of ungodly things,
Then one day they magnetize disease,
as suddenly as they arrived, they are about to leave,
Children are the purest form of truth,
A dying child has no time to be coy or cute,
He/she usually cuts through the chase and gets to the point,
there is no use in hesitation or rattling joints,
Dying children let you know how they are feeling and what they think,
even if it seems uncouth or stinks,
When time is precious, they don't waste it playing ring around the rosy,
They ask questions, give opinions and get really nosy.
The conclave efflorescence
Within a verdant equinox
Dancing in the fiery heat
Fictitious to Our Glass clocks.
And in this angelic indifference
A turbulent serenity is generated and
In the heart of this illustrious image,
The smallest stem stretches grand.
A gathering of flowers
A “stronghold” on powers
A sanctuary on grass
And immunity to showers
My dearest Persephone,
My longest desire,
My inner-most fear,
My heart you inspire,
Ring-around-the-rosy
The fields are cramped and cozy.
The passion plays
In these bouquets
The flowers blossom
The flowers wither
And grow in green and gray.