Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Hello Empowered by Poetry pod family and Visitors! 

In addition to our on-going poetry posts and discussions, we will connect with, grow, inspire, and empower one another via weekly poem assignments.  For those of us who are up to the challenge, let us experience the various themes, structures, techniques, and styles of poetry. 

E by P poets and visitors:  Be advised that responses are welcome at any time.  New poems may be introduced into the assignment thread by replying to the previous post.  Simply, change the automatic reply to the new poem title to highlight the poetry and to differentiate new poems from the responses that will be posted. 

May we continue to inspire with profundity! 

John aka Dominant Muse

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Pat

I remember when my sisters and I used to call Momma - Pat

We used to walk in the house and say, “Where is Pat?”

We would walk into her room and say, “Hey Pat!”

And she would respond, “Hey” right back

But I'm so glad that out of nowhere

I decided to give Pat a scare

And called her, “Momma”
And she didn't care
No longer Pat

But Momma

She had always been Momma



By John D. Evans

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

John:

Wonderful post, intention, and direction.  I was hoping that something like this would emerge, and you have done it.

Excellent!

HOPE

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

John, I welcome the opportunity to take up the challenge to incorporate those structures, techniques, and styles of poetry that best suit my poetic purpose.

May we continue to inform and inspire with power and profundity.

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

I love this poem as it shows how powerful words are in terms of expressing our feelings and establishing a greater sense of interconnectedness among human beings.

kudos John on a great poem

Rob

New Poem Title------Just Within the Sun's Reach

Hello all,
I have recently been invited to share here by John, and I would like to take you
all to a very special place in my heart and mind…..
I wrote this poem a few years ago, after again looking at a photo that I took on
a family trip in Utah, as a teenager, and how the shadows with the coming dawn
brought imagination.

It encompasses various times traveling into the desert area of Utah with my
Grandpa and family members….

It is rather long, but I hope that you will enjoy the images that came to mind.

Just Within the Sun's Reach

Caught in the fleeting moments
Between darkness and dawn,
The awakening day brings
The promise of miracles to come.

Dancing shadows cascade across sandstone walls,
Ushering in the dawn's light,
Calling us as witnesses to bear
The enchanting pictures that come to us, so clear!

High upon Dead-Horse Point,
Look, there I see!
The horse upon his back,
Flailing his legs in agony.

Just within the sun's reach
There he is, once so mighty and strong,
Now, a fancy in my imagination
Coming alive through sandstone and shadows along
The meandering San Juan.

Sacred pictures emerge from these high plateaus
From so very long ago;
Of horses running along with the wind
And eagles soaring so high, can we really comprehend?
And down below and far away,
Window-blind Castle sparkles in the awakening day.

Giving my mind and heart to ponder,
Who was it first that gazed out yonder
From the castle of stone emblazed in the sun's rays?
Whose intent eyes were there, taking in all scenes of the day?

As a young girl,
I went with my Grandpa to the desert floor
Rounding each bend and rock formation
Gave much excitment and longing,
And ready was I to be part of the belonging.

Passing through the washes of Buckhorn Draw,
The fragrance of sage so much a part of this scene…
Carrying me back to long forgotten dreams,
All the while watching
The cottonwood trees sway in the lazy Summer's breeze.

Upon the sandstone walls,
Images appear,
From ancient Anasazi hands,
What is it they are saying here?
Will we ever comprehend the messages that are conveyed,
Forever engraved
In our wondering thoughts just as they are on the walls,
So very tall?

Searching through the hot sands,
I look down and place my small hands
Upon colorful sandstone and desert rocks.
Jewels that lock
My deepest imagination.

For just within the sun's reach
They glitter and sparkle so,
Just like specks of gold
What is it their stories told?

The hot sun climbs high
Giving us time to reflect
And show respect
To the natural beauty of the land before us.

We gratefully drink deeply
Of the sweet water found
Within the desert ground
And refreshing our spirits,
We travel on.

As the day passes on,
Wonders we have found and behold,
Will be the beginnings of stories told.

For just within the sun's reach
The memories will always be there to teach
Those that we love, of times past;
And places that have cast
Will always be a part
Of a special resting spot in our hearts.

(c) Wendy Nelson
June 2, 2002

Speaking of Toys

Was it a turtle?

A tiger?

Or a teddy bear?

I don't remember

But I'm not stuck there

I remember I loved it

It was soft and huggable

It was mine

I was never far from it

I slept with it

I ate with it

I played with it

I taught it how to read

Well, at least, to me

I loved my stuffed animal

I remember the brown hairs

I can see the prickly patches of green

Those big, brown marble eyes

With hazel in the core

The sweetest thing I'd ever seen

I never gave it a name

It was just Mine

All Mine

And I loved it

Then I met intolerance

With Mom

And my sisters watching

He performed with a shout:

Boy, put that thing down!

Instantly, I felt us separate

Into the crate you go!

I put up a wall between us

But now

It's time

I let uncle out

By John D. Evans

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

I am always ready to learn something new.

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Oh, this is great!

Happily enjoying life. Enjoying the simplicity and then here comes the obstacle! And then the reaction to the obstacle. Then the dawning realisation of choice - “It’s time I let uncle out”. That’s my rendition anyway!

Thank you for your gift this morning!

Nicola

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Pony tail swinging.
Hockey stick primed.
I am ready for action,
This game is mine!

Free to move as I please.
I am loose on the field…
Complete abandon,
I move with ease.

No limits.
No holding back.
Sheer brilliance,
In gold and black.

You think you can pass me?
Come on, I dare you!
I feel no fear here…
Just grand anticipation.

I run with speed.
My heart is free.
I love my field hockey…
It sets my spirit free!

love, Nicola

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Great write Ant!  I enjoyed your ode to a tree through a soothing journey!

John

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Nicola,

I loved your hockey too!  It made me smile with delight!

John

Recess Time

Recess Time

I remember recess time with bittersweet memories

How the children played without the likes of me

How I felt out of place - in a world all my own

How I never let go of my pseudo-cozy comfort zone

On the wall where bullies made fun of my braided hair

How they teased me for the thrifty clothes I'd wear

How they mistreated a giant they didn't even know

How they never imagined the places I'd someday go

How they barked in my face and called me girly names

How they made a daily dose of ridicule their game

How my feet ached in pain - crushed in shoes too small

How my pants were high because I was standing tall

How I spent my time knowing that I was unlike the rest

How I knew that something special rested in my treasure chest

How I entertained myself by writing and singing made-up songs

How my weakness for poetry always made me strong

How I realized at an early age that this life was mine

Memories, just a few memories, of my recess time


By John D. Evans

Re: Recess Time

Hi John - Very poignant.  Have you noticed that schools and the media are actually starting to address this problem?  I'm really psyched about it…and just had a thought - why not get involved in this movement myself? Do more. That said,  I've always talked with my children about being extra kind to those that others tease or leave out and tried to instill in them a consciousness about how badly those that are different or outcasts already feel. I've tried to teach them that one kind word can really go a long way in making someone's day better - also that kindness can be as contagious as cruelty.    My strong feelings about this subject come from having been booted from the “popular” group to outcast in junior high.  It was a really tough time and moved me to act in destructive ways as a teen….but in retrospect, it also taught me compassion and empathy for others and I wouldn't trade that for any amount of “fitting in”. ((((John))))

With Gratitude (for making me think!),  Ayla

Re: Recess Time

Thank you Ayla,

I agree with you, wholeheartedly.  Many children suffer from bullyism and I was no different, but the bullies would decrease more and more each year, thank God, as they graduated.  I was able to learn, however, at an early age, that mean and rude is real.  I always knew, however, that I would teach them someday - in words and action.  I am glad to know that you teach your children how to show friendship to those who may appear not to fit in.  It is a lesson on tolerance that they will never forget.

I guess even as youth, we were too much poetry for some people. 

Remain inspired…

John

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

Very touching…

My heart aches for that little boy, although he seemed to naturally find his own path to strength and beauty with head held high! Yeah!

Love, Nicola

Re: Poem of the Week #1 _Childhood Memory

You mused a thought Nicola:  Sometimes, as poets, we must allow the children within us to write our poetry .  Poets speak for the voiceless, including the, seemingly, silenced children within our adult beings.  

John

Swans and Ducks

We bought stale bread to feed the ducks on Fridays.
After school. Mom took us to the Mill Pond.
I liked the Mallards best, the drakes green heads,
The leaf dappled brown backs of the she-ducks
Trailed by bobbing yellow fuzzy ducklings.
The swans would hiss and beat them to the bread,
But we could trick the white, snake necked menace
By reaching out with one thick crust for them
To snatch from cautious fingers. While the rest
Nabbed scattered crumbs, the swans took the bait.
The Swans would always rise to face their fear,
Lunging boldly to take the bread i held.
I saw the challenge frozen in their eyes
As my sister fed the rest of the flock.  

Re: Swans and Ducks

What a beautiful and serene place I see…  Thank you for painting Swans and Ducks!

John