In My little town….

I remember standing beneath that warm summer sun, or perhaps it was spring, when the scent of over ripe strawberries filled the air and the drone of the cicadas were the music of the day. Everywhere it came from like speakers in the trees and ground. I remember hearing the never-ending buzz, just one into another as I sat beneath the plum-tree, their dark purple-almost black color as they clung to the branches like I think olives would, except to me they were magical plums, dripping a golden bead out of some.

I remember my boundaries, marked by the places in the yard, where I could go, where I was told not to go and then there were my thoughts, where my dreams allowed me to go.

I remember the hot haze of the day as I stood there alone, perhaps seven or so years old, doesn’t really matter because I remember it all as if it were now. I looked out towards the fields behind the tall pine trees, past the trees the marker of where I could not go. The place back where there was an old detached box car from a tractor-trailer, the place we found the dead cat trapped within, on a day not like today, in a place we weren’t supposed to go.

I remember the air and staring at the skies and feeling so loved by this nature world, by the clouds above me and I knew and felt good being here alone, like this was how many days would be and it was comforting the way the scent of the concord grapes in fall filled the air and left me craving a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, but that wasn’t today, that was so very long ago, in a time after the cherries had been picked away by the birds, the ones we could reach turned into sweet pies with golden crusts. Days when the windows were open to cool the house and school was out and I was free.

I remember the smell of honeysuckle and hay as it was cut for the farmers, for the cows down the street where we got out milk, heavy cream in tall bottles with cardboard caps that smelled like the dairy, like cows that ate the grass and lived free beyond the barn, not like now where the milk has no smell and the cardboard gets smushed up and put in the recycling bin, no trace of cows or their scent.

I remember the smell of that day as I stood there in the glory of nature, in my backyard alone in my little town, and the feel of it all, the sights, sounds and scents, and the utter joy of being in that moment.

I remember that moment, and when I die, I hope I return to that place in time, young and free and filled with the simple joy of being under a distant warm sun that spoke to me so long ago.

“In my little town

I grew up believing
God keeps His eye on us all
And He used to lean upon me
As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord I recall
My little town”

Simon and Garfunkel

th

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on things you remember. Try to focus on specific details, and don’t worry about whether the memories are of important events, or are connected to each other. You could start by adopting Brainard’s uniform habit of starting every line with “I remember,” and then you could either cut out all the instances of “I remember,” or leave them all in, or leave just a few in. At any rate, hopefully you’ll wind up with a poem that is heavy on concrete detail, and which uses that detail as its connective tissue. Happy writing!

Advertisements

11 thoughts on “In My little town….

  1. Smiling, thanks John, that’s a first for me…too long….I always felt they might be too short but I love the feedback, thrive on it in fact and thank you. This was more like story form in a way instead of poetry, of which I know you excel at and I’m glad you liked it. Maybe I will utilize this form more often then. Thank you and NaPoWriMo has opened my mind to new styles which is great. Have an amazing day my friend.
    Peace and love, Kim

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m not going to write a poem; What I want to say is this. That story of you being 7 is my favourite of all your writings. Sometimes, and don’t get cross with me, sometimes I feel your poems are too long and you try too hard. But in this story you wrote most beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Memories are fragile and special things, I love when they all run together and create a fun flowing story. It was a fun prompt to do and I’m glad I went with it. So glad you enjoyed and yeah, the cat was pretty scary to me being so young but in the country you saw a lot of deceased things, I was always fascinated with the skeletons…beautiful like art in a way. Peace love and happy thoughts, Kim😊

    Like

  4. This was very special and full of happy memories, despite the dead cat trapped in the boxcar. I write a lot of memories, describing childhood, love, loss and will hope my pieces can be patched together. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  5. But you’re wrong, I didn’t read the whole blog, am only into Jan of 2015….if I read the Whole thing, you’d think I’m some sort of creepy psycho or something….smiles….I bet you’re stats rocked that day….funny thing is, the same day I read a bunch of yours, a friend who has stepped away from blogging for a bit did the same thing to me later in the day….I guess what goes around comes around, speaking of round and round, I think I now know what to write about before sleep time….I was pondering what to write….see, influencing me when least expected….cheers uncle dysfunctional….(not a name I like for personal reasons) but you picked it and I shall there for accept it.
    Sleep pain free my friend, catch you in the am, coffee in hand, peace and sleep time in a couple, K

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I didn’t know this person
    on the other side of the screen
    Though I knew the vibe
    cause that’s how I
    was taught
    Even though you can’t see
    the other person
    You can catch their
    drift by the
    way they
    talk
    At least for me
    cause that’s
    the way
    I roll
    So from words
    it became
    How goes it
    To good morning
    The next thing
    I knew it
    was
    they read
    my whole blog
    A deep warm
    feeling
    I now have a new friend
    “Just a little somethin, somethin, from me to you”
    Uncle Dysfunctional

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Good morning sleepy head….hope all is well, just getting ready for post number two for the day…any prompts I should use? Smiles, lots of coffee and I should be in bed….but still awake….ah, such is life😎☕️

    Liked by 1 person

Your words are stars and I humbly thank you for shining your light for me....

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s