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Passions in Poetry

I Remember

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WTBAKELAR
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since 09-09-2008
Posts 1083
Utah, USA


0 posted 09-18-2008 03:21 PM       View Profile for WTBAKELAR   Email WTBAKELAR   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for WTBAKELAR

I Remember:

I remember playing in the root cellar with my older brother,
And sleeping head to toe, two in the bed.
Lightning going through the window of our bedroom, I was two.

I remember sliding down the carpeted stairs of my Aunts home,
And my uncles vibrating easy chair we would all take turns sitting in,
The baby sitters mean kids putting me in the clothes-ironing machine. I was three.

I remember moving to a new house and mom painting it all night,
And running a hose to the neighborís house so we could get water.
We lived on a corner and the rocks would build up in the turn. I was four.

I remember when the black and white T V said the president has been shot,
And my mother cried.  I didnít know why but I cried too.
My step dad shaved my head and gave me a ride on his Harley Davidson. I was five.

I remember playing like I was driving the old International pick-up and shifting gears
And it rolling into the fence, I ran away and waited to get in trouble.
Going to school for the first time.  Mrs. Barnhurst.  She was old. I was six.

I remember when the summers were long and the winters were longer.
And mom baking cookies and bread. And washing clothes in the wringer washer.
I put my hand into the wringer and burned up the belt.  Flattened my hand. I was seven.

I remember moving to a brand new house with an acre of land, in the country.
And building roads in the two-foot tall weeds for my Tonka trucks. Life was great.
We had horses and dogs and I got a new Stingray bike. I was cool and I was eight.

I remember the night that my mom got a phone call, and she cried.
And people came and got her and she was gone for a real long time.
I was awake all night, waiting. My father had been killed in a car accident. I was nine.

I am told that I became a problem after that. That I was totally different
And I hated my mom and would not have anything to do with people.
This lasted for quite some time, I am told.  I really donít remember being ten.

Wm. Tracey Bakelar
2008

© Copyright 2008 Wm. Tracey Bakelar - All Rights Reserved
JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 11-16-1999
Posts 31622
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA


1 posted 09-18-2008 06:38 PM       View Profile for JamesMichael   Email JamesMichael   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for JamesMichael

Fine writing...I remember my grandma getting her hand caught in the wringer...dryers are safer...James
Robert E. Jordan
Member Rara Avis
since 01-25-2008
Posts 8544
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania


2 posted 09-18-2008 06:55 PM       View Profile for Robert E. Jordan   Email Robert E. Jordan   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Robert E. Jordan

William,

These are nice, stock, middle class remembrances that many people can relate to.  Thereís nothing wrong with that.

Bobby
Pilgrimage
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since 12-04-2001
Posts 3905
Texas, USA


3 posted 09-19-2008 12:30 PM       View Profile for Pilgrimage   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Pilgrimage

wow.  Fantastic poem, it caught me at the beginning and never let me go.  

Nan (Pilgrim variety)

WTBAKELAR
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Senior Member
since 09-09-2008
Posts 1083
Utah, USA


4 posted 09-19-2008 03:31 PM       View Profile for WTBAKELAR   Email WTBAKELAR   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for WTBAKELAR

Thank you so much for letting me share my memories.  It's funny what you remember when you start to think back.  I hope you enjoy my other work.  

Sincerly, Tracey
Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis
since 09-16-2007
Posts 8010
So. El Monte, California


5 posted 09-21-2008 06:00 PM       View Profile for Marchmadness   Email Marchmadness   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Marchmadness

I remember too, Tracey, all of these things.
Thanks for reminding me.
                                 Ida
suthern
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Member Seraphic
since 07-29-99
Posts 20770
on the threshold of a dream


6 posted 11-12-2009 09:03 PM       View Profile for suthern   Email suthern   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for suthern

Prowling in the archives is the PIP version of a treasure hunt...

This touched me on so many levels and awakened many memories (including flattened hands... ouch! *S*) The details are astounding... I can just see the rocks piling up. You tug our lips upward and tug our heartstrings... and send our thoughts tumbling through the years. Beautiful work!
 
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