"preschooler" poems
peach cobbler, that's what you remind of
the sweet, southern staple that everyone loves
but when the pom-poms fell from your hands
you told the girls in the van on the way to fun mountain
"I can't do those stunts anymore."
I still laugh at myself for my inappropriate and abrupt,
"WHAT!?!?"
but your collected calmness collected me
until i saw in the back of your eyes the collected fear
and realized the daunting fact,
that even though you were nearly 9 months my younger
in 9 months
you were going to have to be years older than me
we were raised to plan
but planning doesn't determine how life occurs
cause you never really plan to fall down
i know there were those who showed you love
but i'm sure being named "pastor's daughter" and labeled "cliche"
didn't do you any favors in the judgement days
and i'm sorry i only made you a dress to hide the bump
when you deserved a cape
to soar over that injustice
that no one has the right to serve
what its like to inhabit a body that is growing beauty
i don't know, but watching you
i have seen it can be ... a change
which, i'm sure, that doesn't even remotely explain ... does it?
no it's ... a Life Alteration of Volcanic Proportions
cause I'm sure, at times, you feel as if standing in the wake of an explosion
and sometimes the earth spews fiery filth at you
but i believe mothers are fire proof
cause they know they have beauty that grew inside
and when you look at that doe eyed, preschooler son
remember that love strengthens you
heaven is powerful
and you are both beautiful
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
It's a trap all of it the jobs, the cars, and forms of entertainment.
We are blind to good will and people are dumb enough to twerk on a grave for a social networking sight for views.
Now I'm not saying that I do not fall victim, but my intentions are far beyond this preschooler ********
Now I ask you in good faith
Can you stop
Just for a day
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
as always, i have been reading poems new to me,
by poets also new to me.
while my eyes caressed each word as if it were the last orb of breathe of the last flower to freeze in the winter,
the engines in my dingy brain halted, without warning.
without any obvious street sign or road block.
but then the pearl of a thought latched itself to me, became apart of me.
and for days now i have been molding this thought in my hands as a preschooler using a new tube a playdoh would.
my fingers manipulated the string of words,
maybe this will wor- no no maybe if i pinch this here it wi- no no no
no
no
no
NO
so, i decided to come flat out and bring to life the embryo of an idea of a thought that was swelling and letting water into my brain.
who is the "you"?
yes, i said it who the hell is the "you"?
i have seen it is the best and most famous poets' poems,
i have even seen it in my own.
the "you".
who is your "you"?
you know, example: when you write a poem and instead of saying "Sam" (your ex you haven't gotten over) you just put the word "you" instead?
look at these:
Sam kissed my eyelids,
but Sam only kissed them so i wouldn't see his lies.
and you turn it into:
You kissed my eyelids,
but you only kissed them so i wouldn't see your lies.
another example:
the "you" in this poem is, well, you.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
The baby cries
Never smiles
Won’t be comforted within your arms
Put him in his baby swing
You didn’t know it autism
The toddler never plays
With the other children
Always stays to himself
He doesn’t drive the toy trucks
He lines them up
You didn’t know it autism
The preschooler doesn’t talk
But his vocabulary his that of a boy in the
second grade
His comprehensive language better than
his expressive
And he always throwing temper-tantrums
You didn't know it was autism
The teachers complain
He can’t sit still
Stares off in space
Won’t join at circle
Other children don’t like him
You didn’t know it autism
The doctor says there is no cure
You scream and curse
And want answers
Now you know it was autism
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 9:05 AM UTC
Of Real Or "FAKE" Memories
Earlier today...upon
setting feet out a side door,
a refreshingly cool rain
washed away present woes,
and ushered auld lang syne,
sans mine earlier childhood quatrain
such as the incy wincy spider sung
(way out of tune) by
my then young mum,
yet clear as day she evinced
unabashed loved simply and plain,
which cherished rarely
jogged memory main,
lee lost in sigh burr space,
perhaps arising some
where (over the rainbow...)
in toto within my midbrain
ah...methought, how perfectly spontaneous
I spunkily danced down
Drury (er rather Lantern) Lane
sudden recollection of real or
feigned salad days of yore
blessedly carefree, innocently naive,
which elapsed many a score
years ago poked thru consciousness
so vividly, despite
at nineteen and four
tee Earth's orbitz ago,
hence summarily explore
thyself as an adorable boy around
'pon the onset of incipient curiosity
(i.e. preschooler),
aye did unexpectedly bound
forth like a midsize dog ecstatic
to greet her/his master,
the latter played and clowned
with four legged woman's/
man's "best friend,"
where non verbal
communication did expound
volumes of unconditional mutually
symphonic, sympathetic, and symbiotic
couched make believe buddies
never abandoned me always around:
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC