Home› Poetry, Prose, Music & Art

a pointless memory from childhood... in poem form

of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
edited April 2004 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
wood chips stewn
under swingsets
see the children?
running barefoot
in the swirling wind...
even still
they play.
they run
and tickle
and tumble.
rumbling tumbling
children...
even when the sprinkles fall
(the first signs of downpour)
and yet they
run
and giggle
and hide from each other
behind bushes and trees
and lift back their heads
and stick out
their tiny tongues
and taste
the droplets
and sing clever
little
rainsongs.
"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • VedderGirl27VedderGirl27 Posts: 69
    I like this. I took my children to the park today, & as I sat there & watched them play, I was having very similar thoughts. Remembering what it was like to play & have fun without a care in the world.
    There was a whole inside his soul a manicure couldn't fill. So he found himself a whore to love while daisies choked in the windowsill. *JK*
  • KwyjiboKwyjibo Posts: 662
    I LOVED the last few lines

    hey, we were writing at the same time
    The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway, is that its you, and that you're standing in the doorway.

    I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
  • of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
    Originally posted by Kwyjibo
    I LOVED the last few lines

    hey, we were writing at the same time
    *sends a smile your way, pat*

    :)

    Thanks for the words.

    ~*~*~*~*~

    VedderGirl27, :) children are lovely, aren't they? :)
    "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

    www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
  • VedderGirl27VedderGirl27 Posts: 69
    Originally posted by of_the_girl


    ~*~*~*~*~

    VedderGirl27, :) children are lovely, aren't they? :)
    Yes, they are. Mine are the only thing that give my life real purpose.
    There was a whole inside his soul a manicure couldn't fill. So he found himself a whore to love while daisies choked in the windowsill. *JK*
  • BuruBuru Posts: 8,473
    a lovely memory Jessie
    you paint a nice picture of it
    y la banda de Guille... cuando toca?
  • nailz100nailz100 Posts: 1,176
    I'd just like to say that you paint some very nice pictures...with clever words
    Only with our eyes closed can we truly see
  • of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
    Originally posted by Buru
    a lovely memory Jessie
    you paint a nice picture of it

    thanks buru! glad you enjoyed it!
    :D

    and thanks to you, as well nailz, your words really make me smile. :)
    "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

    www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
  • oldermanolderman Posts: 1,765
    another sweet poem from jessie... :)
    Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
    As she slams the door in his drunken face
    And now he stands outside
    And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
    He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
    What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
    Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
    And his tears fall and burn the garden green
  • of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
    Olderman,
    thanks for reading!! :):)
    "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

    www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
Sign In or Register to comment.