This waif-world is adopted.
It was sewn together with patches
torn from consequences.
Old Mother Reality
took it in
out of the cold nowhere.
She feeds it now, but only
the food that it is ready to eat
mostly it's puppy food
and an all-purpose applesauce.
Like any infants,
the earth as we understand it,
wails and throws up,
plays with toys that are dangerous,
ends up
with chocolate cake all over its face.
Old Mother Reality
wipes its confused mug
(and sometimes its ****),
teaches it one small
acceptable wishy-washy truth
at a time,
and hopes the world grows up
before she lets it go
play in the street alone.
Categories:
tykes, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Little Tykes
The little tykes,
They’re early trained
To hold onto little bags —
To carry their collected needs,
Or special treats,
Or found symbols of imaginings
To be kept for them alone —
In their name-labeled bags
That decades later they’ll keep
In the cabinets and closets
Of what they’ll call
As their own homes.
————————————————————————————-
(C)sally young eslinger 6/21/22
Inspiration:
From binkies with a toy and spare diaper; to Matchbox car and a glittery
stone found on the ground: to lunches; to…
Anyone here old enough to recall Penny Candy choices?
Currently like picking $1/ piece in specialty chocolate shops
Categories:
tykes, america, childhood, memory, youth,
Form: Free verse
Along the hikes of thunder spikes
The rest of us are scared
Nobody likes the lightning strikes
That catch us unprepared
Except the tykes who ride the bikes
That somebody repaired.
Submitted to the
Bite Size Poem no17 Poetry Contest
on August 15, 2021
Categories:
tykes, courage,
Form: Rhyme
Teen tykes trifle Love
Cozy sensuality
Tongue tied lips to lips
Categories:
tykes, 7th grade, angst, girlfriend,
Form: Haiku
The wind blew exactly right
For the flying of a kite.
Kites were nearly everywhere:
In telephone wires
And high in the trees,
One or two were in the air,
Blowing ever higher
On a gentle breeze.
Then all at once the wind increased;
It blew and blew, it hardly ceased,
Pulling all the kites so high
Into the clouds,
How high they go!
Pulling children in the sky,
Above the crowds
That watch below!
Children hanging by kite strings,
Dangling over homes and things,
Higher, higher, beyond sight,
Each child dangled from a kite.
Then there was a change in the weather.
The wind stopped blowing altogether.
Children fall, down they drop, one and all,
Plop…plop…plop.
This is another poem from the ongoing series "Lucifera's Questionable Daycare Poems and Stories." It previously had very minor publication in Pamela Olsen's mail art compilation zine The P&E Newsletter volume 2 number 9, October 1993.
Categories:
tykes, children, death, fantasy, fun,
Form: Rhyme
There's one thing about being a Policeman that I don't like.
Several months ago I had to break the hearts of two tykes.
Their parents had a car wreck and died.
After I told them, all three of us cried.
It broke my heart to see their sad faces when I gave them the bad news.
It's painful when people learn that their parents are what they're destined to lose.
They were going to be put in a foster home because they have no other relatives.
But my wife and I have a big house so we invited them to come here and live.
My wife and I were childless before.
But we're sure not childless anymore.
We petitioned the court for custody and won.
My wife is barren but now we have two sons.
(This is a fictional poem)
Categories:
tykes, childhood, children, death, pain,
Form: Rhyme