My Youth

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  • Childhood

    My Youth

                                         

                                   O, those magic days of youth.
                                   Gleefully I often played,
                                   On the playground swing.
                                   Falling from the swing,
                                   The scar that still remains.

                                   Came spring, the picnic,
                                   Beneath a swaying elm.
                                   Too bad the ants decided to attend.
                                   In despair I squashed them,
                                   A war I could not win.

                                   In summer sun I would lie,
                                   On a blanket beneath the sun.
                                   First came the sunburn blisters,
                                   Eventually I would tan.

                                   When autumn made its entrance,
                                   The leaves turned gold and red.
                                   I raked the leaves in giant heaps,
                                   Then burrowed deep beneath.

                                   At last the snow of winter,
                                   Icicles hanging from my clothes. 
                                   I built a snow fort in the school yard
                                   And never felt the cold.

                                   The fading days of my youth,
                                   Lost slowly, in the tide of time.
                                   Never to be forgotten,
                                   They linger in my dreams.

     

     

     

     

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    MalikPeterson commented on My Youth

    07-24-2011

    I like this one Mr Gee...a wonderful way to set your childhood memories against the backdrop of the seasons. Kudos to you good sir.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    MrGee’s Poems (5)

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    The Tenderness Of The Grass 1
    Set Me Free 2
    Beyond The River 0
    Friendship 1
    My Youth 1