……….and I’m leaving you with another non-post. Forgive me. I’m going to need a couple of weeks to get recombobulated (which, according to the OED and spell check, isn’t a real word but I think it should be).
This is when I would ordinarily give you a poem, but I can’t access my books at the moment. So instead, I’ll horrify you with one of my own, written when I was six years old:
Snow is white,
Snow is bright,
Snow is very pretty.
Got any childhood embarrassment you can share?
xo
Tasha
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That’s not an embarrassment! I think it’s charming, and particularly talented for a six year old.
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Spy, you’re way too kind!
:D
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Oh sure. Feast your eyes on the poetic stylings of my eight year old self. (A word of explanation, we were charged with writing a sentence about our favorite color. As was typical of me, I had to turn it into something LARGER.)
Yellow is a moon on a wonderful night
Yellow is a coward, who wouldn’t fight
Yellow is a color, for me and you
Yellow looks great, right next to blue
I think it stands up nicely. I didn’t get a good grade, as I recall. Something about not following directions. 
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Your snow poem is one I can understand. Any deeper than and i get a confused look on my face. I have PDD. Poetry Deficit Disorder.
Embarrassing moment as a child???
Nope.
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I might’ve been 12 or 13. and our English teacher was trying to teach us about limericks. His name was Mr. Heesen….
There was an odd teacher named Heesen
while gardening forgot to put peas in
since he didn’t sow
the peas didn’t grow
Ah well; Heesen is way out of season.
by Bob
on May 30th, 2008 at 12:07 pm
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Let’s see — 8 years old, and it garnered my first rejection letter — from TRUE CONFESSIONS…
Out of my homeland,
I was taken,
I was so scared,
My knees were shakin’.
Then they put me on that dirty old boat
Without a cover, or a coat.
It went on and on from there, that’s what I can remember off the top of my head. It was about slavery. Perfect for a romance mag — my grandmother was cruel.
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This was a song that my music teacher o-fficially played on a piano then had my class sing in a program:
Oh, the moon is a ball about ten feet tall,
And where ever I go I can see it then.
There’s that moon right there again!
At the time I was very proud. Now …
by Holly Y
on May 30th, 2008 at 1:29 pm
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Ok, I went through my old poems full of teenage angst. Love, hurt, love again. And decided not to share.
But my first writing notebook where these poems are hidden, started with this quote that I thought was true even today:
“Today’s dream is tomorrow’s joy.” E.B. Michaels.
Here’s to our dreaming old selves.
by Lynn
on May 31st, 2008 at 8:43 am
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