Each month, write a new collection.
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WEAKNESSThere are few clear memories of my childhood.For the most part I wasn’t paying attention.I was not remarkable and neither were my firsts.My first day of school I was frightened and then not.My first communion I think I wore a white shirt.My first kiss was a girl I didn’t really like.None of it stood out in any way afterwards--Except for one morning late in the first grade whenI was on the blacktop arguing with a kidOver something of no interest even back thenBut that kid was saying something about his dadWho was a cop and had a gun the kid would bringAnd I could see in his eyes that it was horseshitSo I hit him.I hit him the only place it made sense to hit him:The indent in the skull behind the eye socketWith the ridge of my knuckles.There was no fight--only delivery and impact.They picked him off the ground and carried him away.The asphalt smelled new and some was on his forehead.That was the first time I ever threw a punch,I knew then that I had found what I was good at.And that I’d have to find something else.
I have absolutely no memory of that. Great poem. You were never a violent person, which is the point you make at the end.
love it. the build up with the shirt and the kiss and then the specificity of that memory with the dad who was the cop and that very directed punch.
the fight the back of the socket! Remarkable, I loved the not so confident approach and then the story took off half way through into the argument over the father the something of no interest. Good poem.
I like this one too, an unusual "first" that makes an impact (no pun intended) Great ending too
My Social LifeWes told me missing the first day of Junior Highwould ruin my social life - but I stayed home sick.He would have thought he was right - my social life sucked.But I was doomed - my brain cancelled out my chances.I never got the cool kids, I can’t read faces.If girls were telling me to kiss them - I missed it.I should have stayed home the next six years to saveme the torture. I would not have turned to drugs tomake friends.
what an ending. understated and powerful.
That turned really dark at the end. Honest too. Strong!
First Day, New TownI left the old school behind - new school new city.First day of sixth grade was march seventeen, and byrecess I got in my first fight of three that year.He had to show me he was boss - I made him bleed.My new teacher didn’t hate me - like my old one.The principal didn’t threaten to expel meon the very first day of school - like the old one.We moved that weekend on my birthday the nineteenth.Next week was spring break so I could meet my new town.
OK, one story reminds of of another from a few month's earlier.
OK, really long lines (yes, I know how to count syllables). You aren't going to make me rhyme now?
We'll save rhyming for later! Great poem though and I like the long lines.
you know I only have 10 fingers. ;)
FairgroveThere were two signs that Christmastime had arrived:KTLA showed Santa and the Three Bears on Thanksgiving nightAnd the next day we went to pick out our treeAt the Fairgrove Christmas Tree FarmThat Friday was never black, but always greenThe trees seemed to stretch for miles in all directionsAnd after we chose the one we wanted I was free to lose myselfAmid the endless boughs and branches where I found winter’s first exultant promise
Like the last line
That's great man, and KTLA! Yes, that was Xmas for me too!
The first day of the caterpillars was moist and Overcast. There was this green goo on the pavement —My grandmother opened her umbrella but itWasn’t raining water, just these critters fallingFrom the trees. They went splat mostly but some made it;They must have because I looked up and saw all thoseChyrsalises or whatever the plural is for Those filmy pockets that give birth to butterflies -I never saw any, but that bright green slime desperateTrying has stayed with me til now: gross, beautiful — I wanted to dare to transform myself. I did.
great opening and ending: "The first day of the caterpillars was moist..." & "I did".I always recommend a strong opening and closing.
I love the narrator. I believe she is with her grandmother as she tells the story and I feel/understand her childlike wonder and horror
Love that two word ending. High contrast. High power.
Yeah, I agree. Those last two words really did it.
Sitting on the LineHe asked me if I wanted to see what was in his handI said, "I guess"He opened his hand up and held it right under my noseit was a cockroachI said, "so what?" And knocked the bug out of his handhe said, "you jerk!"I grabbed his hat off of his head and smacked his facehe pushed me backSo I pounded him with a quick roundhouse to the nosenobody expects a leftythen my mom had to come down to the principals officeshe was so pissedthe principal was concerned that I had beat up a boyhe had it comingthey decided it was just a fluke and didn't suspend methank Heavens for thatthat boy avoided me like the plague from then on outwhat a big weenieI lost my recess time for two straight weeks that yearsitting on the line
That's great, but I think he had it coming too! Should have hit him harder!
Lol! I was such a sweet little girl
I remember the line and having to sit on it the whole recessWhat a way to spend lunch as for the boy with a cockroachthe guy was not used to girls fighting back, he probably had no older sisters!
If there is a deeper green than the campus trees,it must be hidden far away on the library shelves.They’re trimming their branches among the crush of frat boys, skateboarders and natural blondes.The first day of college is different at fifty-three.I march on with the kids and try to keep upholding a copy of Camus close to my heart likeit’s a passport, or equalizer in this new world.A landscaper soberly throws limbs into his truckas the students brush by, oblivious to his labor.But I understand, and I’m nervous on this side without gloves and steel toes to protect me. This is so singular, I think for a man mid-life. Crawling in the funnel of undergraduateson the way to class, I focus on the deep green of the landscaper’s shirt and wonder about his lifeas Camus leaps from my heart and falls at his feet.“Stranger,” he asks? And with a red face I feel I’ve been recognized as more worker than student.“Pardon,” I reply confused as he hands me my book. “The Stranger,” he said, I remember it from college.
I love the way you use Camus in here. I work with returning students all the time, and you've caught their universal trepidation. Really beautiful work.
It was my first day outside in the rain,My first storm, back in the days when it rained.I climbed on my daddy and begged to go outIn a summer romper that tied at the shoulders.I didn't want a raincoat, hat, boots.To me it looked like a giant, powerful sprinkler.I wanted to run through it and get wet - join it, not dodge it.Dad smiled and said that was a great idea,So we ran outside and let the rain fall on us.
I like the idea of a giant sprinklerand the fact you wanted to see the rain for what it was... to get wet.
Love it too. That's a great memory of your father.
The Big WaveThe inner tube held me firmly inside with my feet up and butt through the holeSplashing in the ocean waves passed the breakers being dragged out furtheras I floated along haphazardly and deeper into the ocean vastness Deciding not to get too far from where I could see my group on the edge of the coast by the lifeguard tower number twelveI paddled my way back to shore without noticingbehind me a bigger wave was approaching and the speed of my little tube paddling forward as I kicked my feet and used my arms to propel myself until the wave was upon me and I was mixed up in its foam and rode up to the top of its crest until it kicked me ahead of its own breaking I became catapulted onto the dry sandahead of itrolling and tumbling with the water churning over meas though I was in a washing machine Holding my breath for the durationI dared not to drown breathing the saltwater but swallowing the bitterness of the ocean
That's really physical, especially right at the end!
Talking about peninsulas, it that a nice little salt and pepper one you got goin on now these days or are you secretly a rabbi? ;-) :-P O:-)
Secret GardenOh geez, Grandpa's house, cant we just drive down first huh? Mom says no, okay, on to his dusty domain.Corrina, let me show you something...okay what? Be polite says gramps, wait grandpa, grandpa Martin.Through a screen door and to dozens of trees and shrubs...Like a ife experience of Willy Wonka,I wanted to run from tree to tree, all the fruit!I tried Raspberries, Strawberries, Boysenberries...Until I was full. After I ended up there,Living. And growing up, it became my jungle.