Poem No. 1
May 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
Seasons Greetings to all who dare
The Month of May is finally here
We’ll walk, we’ll skip, we’ll jump, we’ll run
All in all we’ll have some fun.
But wait there’s just one minor problem
Will the rains come down like they did in autumn?
Will they trickle down our little cheeks?
Or will they beat down on our backs so heavy?
Fear not my friends for you will see
The sun will rise with a happy glee.
This was perhaps the very first poem I wrote, save a limerick or two in fifth grade. I wrote this poem in the sixth grade, back when sixth grade classrooms were similar to fourth grade ones in that you did not switch rooms between subjects and one teacher covered all your science, math and social studies basics. Yes, this was before middle schools began popping up like wild mushrooms ushering us all into pre-teen angst and adolescence a little sooner than expected.
It was free-time, and my teacher Mrs. N. had given us a poetry assignment. I decided to begin mine early, during free time. As I wrote I do not remember thinking too hard about the lines, perhaps it was because the words came from a place of longing. You see I lived in a city just south of Lake Ontario and east of Buffalo, NY where: Winter had a way of lingering far too long, Spring always came and went much too quickly, and summer was a long sticky walk through hot air which often resulted in bad hair. And so it was not surprising that I longed for spring, and everything that came with it. Easter, spring recess, and the dandelion seed heads that seemed to pop up everywhere around our yard.
Proud of my little work of art, I asked my mom to take this poem to work and type it out. With these few whimsical scribblings that began on lined notebook paper, I began to see myself not only as a poet, but as a writer in all its heartbreak . So now, as the month of May commences and thoughts of spring bask in the air, I think of this poem and of myself as a naive sixth grader, a burgeoning writer and a willful optimist. I share it in the hope that despite the headache and heartache, unexpected loss and destruction, good news and bad which we heard, saw or experienced of late, each of us will usher in a little sunshine at this time. Mine comes through poetry, what’s yours?
Dandelion Image From: http://www.movingonbydesign.co.uk/gallery/gallery%20five.htm