Our Children, Our Future
I like to begin poetry by exploring phrases, I am…I am a poet…but then I think “What is a poet?”
Whatever it is, I think, it must have food for the soul. It must have generous folds of thoughts, and Love.
Whatever it is, I think, it must be arrogant, to coach the sun to rise, to kiss the day goodbye, and Hope.
Whatever it is, I think, its ecstasy remains intact, with the Birds of God for Companions and our children who can teach us as much as we teach them.
There’s nothing as sweet as falling for a little girl in her gardenias world, she lovesÂ the sight of us sprawling all over the earth, pink, whiteÂ and yellow, some pods pierced through the heart by a stem so green, always singing, and dancing side by side, dreaming of an amorous encounter, when the winds and rains come, we are set free to take the ride of our lives, we sigh for some understanding, some permanence, we don’t have much time to philosophize about our fate, we’ll all be back again the following spring, blanketing all around, where we first and last touched the ground.
The Boy and his First Dirty Word
His first dirty word tore at the sweet meat of his brain, while he explored many feet of earth, and everything that really matters, he was like most boys with years behind him of chasing squirrels, playing video games and pushing music inside his head while putting everything else off till tomorrow, glued to the side of his ear was a shiny snail whispering, go for it, go for it, and it made kissing sounds, as he jumped from hole to hole, he would be a man when his twelve organs were in place, and his brain stem was unencumbered by the illogical.
Happy children are all-stars, curious jugs of sunshine, their faces radiant, their eyes metaphors of emptiness and fullness perfectly contained, their naivety keeps us entertained, they do not think about anything too long, peanut butter keeps them energized, they have happy feet, elastic faces, like acrobats they ride bareback on wild stallions with wings, they train smarter, not harder, slow and steady gets them there, they balance fun with rest, and they lie on their backs and take pleasure in moments of nothingness.
written Joyce . I enjoyed this. Thank you.
Thank you Steve