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Open Poetry #48
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My Stick
| Open Poetry #48 |
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My Stick |
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Tim Senior Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 1794 |
When I was but a wee small boy, I had me a favorite toy, It was a stick that I had found, Out in the yard, down on the ground, Now you might think I am a fool, But that there stick was mighty cool, For it could be a mighty sword, So I could fight the pirate hoard, Or it might be a gatlin' gun, Playin' soldier sure was fun, Sometimes I swang it like a bat, Sometimes I poked the neighbor's cat, (I was young what can I say, please don't report me to the NSPCA) Now that there stick could even be, A fishing pole, slick as can be, On the bank down on Slate crick, That was one mighty awesome stick, I might use it as an oar, Or to prop open the barnyard door, I kept it by my bed at night, So midnight monsters I could smite, But then one day I lost my stick, I was so sad, it made me sick, Didn't have no cause to play, Moped around the house all day. Ma said, "Tim, why don't you pick yourself out another stick?" I replied, "I can't do that Ma, that stick was the bestest, I ever saw." I looked high and I looked low, Every place that I would go, And to this day, when a stick I see, I ask of it, "Do you know me?" Nary a stick has answered back, My life ruined, a real sad sack, Farewell dear stick, my childhood friend, And now this poem is done, goodbye, the end. |
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| © Copyright 2013 Tim - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Hah! Brings back memories of me and a stick I used like a baseball bat and swatted rocks that I would pitch in the air. Many a day under a huge oak tree in the summer I played the stick and rock game. As Bob Hope would say, "Thanks for the memories." ~*~ If they give you lined paper, write sideways. ~*~ |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Cute poem, Tim. Enjoyed. Ida |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Gotta love the limitless, playful imagination and energy of youth. It's sad we lose touch with that with all the obligations of adulthood. I had a stick or two in my time. This poem gave me a sincere reminiscing for those unhindered, ambition filled days. Michael |
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