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Literature Text
When youth was sun and cloudless skies
and a garden full of butterflies,
and daisies waiting to be chains
in meadows where it never rained.
When lambs jumped joyous every spring
and I heard every bluebird sing
and all the adults told the truth
in the dream that was my youth.
When Santa granted every wish.
When my pond was filled with golden fish
and a cow leapt high to reach the moon
and Grampa sung a funny tune.
When paper dolls danced in a line
and sugared bread to eat was fine,
and adults never gave me rules
least not before I went to school!
When time was just an honoured guest
he flitted in – but took a rest.
Moving not, he watched me grow
in Happy-Ever-After glow.
All of this, it was my Truth
in lengthened days, where dwelt my youth –
when youth was sun and cloudless skies
and a garden full of butterflies...
and a garden full of butterflies,
and daisies waiting to be chains
in meadows where it never rained.
When lambs jumped joyous every spring
and I heard every bluebird sing
and all the adults told the truth
in the dream that was my youth.
When Santa granted every wish.
When my pond was filled with golden fish
and a cow leapt high to reach the moon
and Grampa sung a funny tune.
When paper dolls danced in a line
and sugared bread to eat was fine,
and adults never gave me rules
least not before I went to school!
When time was just an honoured guest
he flitted in – but took a rest.
Moving not, he watched me grow
in Happy-Ever-After glow.
All of this, it was my Truth
in lengthened days, where dwelt my youth –
when youth was sun and cloudless skies
and a garden full of butterflies...
Literature
how to raise a broken kid
i.
i was born in the eye of a raging hurricane
in the night where all the rivers
turned the water into tears---
there was pain and there was rain
and muffled whispers to my ears
from that day i recognize
the face and color
of my fears
ii.
let them claim me
let them drain me
till my last droplet of hope
let them crucify me hollow
through a kid's kaleidoscope
let them dress me with their sins
and their outdated type of skins
let them paint me with their colors
and pretend i didn't see
iii.
in the corner of the room
broken bones on broken bed
paint is dripping down the walls—
fading colors under red
i can't breathe and i can't
Literature
Taking Attendance
I’m a trainee teacher in an “underprivileged” area, and every Friday, I go to sit in a refurbished conference room just off of the campus of the school, walled in by hedges and new plaster, with fascia windows that point skyward so we can let in the sunlight but not see the suburbs surrounding the building. The children we teach all live within two miles; so do the majority of the city’s drug dealers, bookmakers offices and launderettes.
But our view is Bright Blue, not Broken Britain.
Every Friday we sit in this room, and we talk about ‘things affecting kids nowadays’. It’s usually from an angle of
Literature
To the Child
To the Child
To the child we never got to know
To the child who's eyes never opened
Who's laugh we never heard
Who's voice never spoke
Who's touch we never felt
To the child we will never see grow
To the child taken too soon
To that wonderful child that lives with angels
You are a child blessed with love
Know as you watch from that golden heaven each day
Everyday we live on we will love you
We will carry you with us as we go forward
To that blessed child
From the parents and siblings
Aunts and uncles and cousins
The grandparents
From everyone who you've touched
To that child may that love reach you
And may that love help guide us all
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You don't see as many butterflies these days, but they were as much a part of my childhood as were nursery rhymes and never-ending summers.
© 2014 - 2024 shelleypalmer
Comments20
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This is so beautiful!
It paints pictures in my head reminds me of my first 3 years on this planet ^^
take care
It paints pictures in my head reminds me of my first 3 years on this planet ^^
take care