Tag Archives: Children

Temporary Saints

Temporary Saints

Sunday morning, dressed to the nines,
we joined our proper church school lines,
sat upon paint-peeling chairs
that barely fit our derrieres
and were shaken free of sins and taints.
Rows of little Sunday saints,
we learned our Bible verses well,
secure from thoughts that led to Hell—
at least until the closing bell.

 

You’ll find more about Sunday School and bleached-white souls here: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/12/30/i-used-to-eat-red/

The NaNoWrMo prompt for this ninth day was to write a nine-line poem.

 

Old and New: Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge

(Click on first photo to enlarge all.)

https://ceenphotography.com/2017/01/10/cees-fun-foto-challenge-old-and-new/

Other People’s Children

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Other People’s Children

Rowdy jostlers—twisters, hoppers.
Shouting loudly, upsetting shoppers,
they run up aisles and spar with hangers.
Turn shopping cart races into bangers.

They bark our shins, assault our ears,
yet no one stops these mannerless dears;
for the behavior others find so irksome,
the parents merely view as quirksome.

The prompt word today was “irksome.”

At First

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At First

Days were not over half so soon
when we ate passion with a spoon.
Swirled chocolate at the Frosty Freeze

melting in the prairie breeze
hot and redolent of soil—
chaff of wheat and rattled coil.
Summer days and summer nights,
rolls in grass and water fights
with uncoiled hoses, cooking pans,
rolled up cuffs and soaked white Vans.

Passion then was not so much
a thing of kissing or of  touch
as of smells and sights and taste.
Baking beans and paper paste.
Brand new tablets, pencil shavings.
Summer nights, then autumn cravings.
Cattle lowing, school bells,
Cool spring water from deep wells.
Throats that ached from drinking it,
brought to light from ancient pit.

All these simple remembered things
that thinking about passion brings:
spin-overs on the monkey bars,
rides on bikes and naming stars.
It’s true some passion rides on night
with pressing lips and gentle bite,
or trembles on the fingertips
straying over breasts or hips.

Yet simpler loves bring lesser rations
of what adults consider passions.
Words like passion must be allowed
to be unfettered, like a cloud
and not confined in connotation,
dictionary or denotation.
Sometimes passion can be bright—
A meadowlark or soaring kite.
Sun-chapped lips just touched with mist
long before they’re ever kissed.

The prompt word today was “Passionate.”