I have been going through three big cartons that among them contain every letter anyone has ever written to me in my life and even a number of my own that my mother saved as I was traveling around the world in my younger wilder years. In the very bottom of one box, I found a card I made for my mother when I was six years old with the very first poem I ever wrote on it. It’s pretty beaten up but Forgottenman insists I should share it here. I’m including photos of the different pages. The cover is a doily with three dimensional flowers on it but consider that it has been rattling around in my mother’s top junk drawer or in a box with a ton of other paper things for 69 years, so its condition reflects this. Here it is. Click on each photo to enlarge and read the poem:
What is the very earliest example of your writing? Wanna share with us? If so, please link in comments below:
Yay! You blogged it! This is way cool, Dear.
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I always do as you suggest. Haven’t you noticed that?
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You give good advice so I usually follow it, FM.
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This just shows that even then the seeds of poetry were just waiting to grow in you.
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Ha. Pretty brave to post it, wasn’t I? Anything for a rhyme…then as now.
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😍😍😍
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My mother was a very good humorous poet… just for the fun of it. She wrote funny poems for us and rhymed plays for her club to perform. My friends and I performed one of them for a talent contest once. It was entitled “The Hillbilly Wedding,” and I still have a copy of it somewhere.
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You’ve inherited her talent Judy.
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We used to write poems together when I was young.. just seemed a normal thing to do to me.
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What a gift she gave you. 💕💖
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She did, Sadje.
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💕💖
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As well as her lust for chocolate, unfortunately.
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But eating chocolate is good.
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Sure is!!!
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😛
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Gracious! My! Me! Thanks, Sadje. ;o)
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My pleasure
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My goodness — even in first grade you were quite a writer!
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That’s wonderful that your mom kept it!
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I know. I probably found it when I went to clear out the house after my dad died. My mother never went back again to the house in S.D. after her died. They were living half the year or more in AZ and she just stayed there after that, year round. I went and cleared out all our personal things and we rented out the house.
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Must have been difficult for you to pack up.
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It was hard packing up his clothes. He had very little else in the house. Now if it had been packing up the barn or storage sheds, that would have been another matter! I did get his hammer and his old hand-forged axe that I think had been his father’s as well.
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So many memories.
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The inchoate rhymester had it even then
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Ha.. inchoate can also mean “a crime of preparing for or seeking to commit another crime.” Hope you weren’t expressing this meaning of the word. ;o)
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As if
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Love it, I used to have such a box of old love letters but they all got burned in the middle of the Red Desert. more about that if interested.
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The story of Shirley burning them? You’ve told one story like that.
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How precious!!!
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That is so cool you still have them. I still have a few stories I wrote in the 1st grade. 😀 😀
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Are you going to share them? It would be so fun. You could just photograph them like I did and I can’t imagine they’d be that long.
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Probably not. They are all about being abused or death and dying.
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Pingback: Almost My First Poem Ever – “Summer is the season of inferior sledding” – Inuit proverb
Here you go! https://marthakennedy.wordpress.com/2023/01/17/almost-my-first-poem-ever/
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This is the sweetest. I’m so glad you have it Judy. And all those photos that you’ve kept.
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Isn’t it funny? I was inventing words even then.
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I’m so lucky that my sister took all those photos as we were growing up. It wasn’t an era when many photos were taken. And almost all of my memories depended on those photos to make sure I didn’t forget them.
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I only have a few photos from those early years. But these days… so many photos! At least I have some to remind me of what I did yesterday.
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Well, other people are taking your photo as well. You have a lot of followers and friends. I’m one of them. xoox
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Your first poem is delightful! I’m especially taken with “swand.” Children aren’t hampered by feeling that their poems have to make complete sense. It’s refreshing.
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I know. I was probably so please to find that supposed rhyme.
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I still recall having to use the word “pause” in a sentence for school and thinking a pause was an animal. I wrote something like, “I saw the pause in the tree.” There’s so much learning to be acquired regarding words.
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Perhaps you were thinking of a possum…Makes as much sense as a swand…Ha.
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