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Open Poetry #49
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JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana

0 posted 2016-12-12 02:31 PM



When I was a small lad
And I played until dog-tired
Sometimes I'd sneak into the woods
Not far from the back of our house
There was a little creek
Where I'd stop
To watch and listen
And harvest the sounds and sights
Into my thoughts
In the creek were tall reeds
Rising above the water
They bent with whatever current
Moved the water that day
Transfixed I sat watching the reeds
Waving at me
As I stretched out my legs
In the background
Of this idyllic setting
A symphony was performing
In my ears
Frogs croaking
The cawing of a huge blackbird
Nearby
Every so often
Fish would leave the water
Do a summersault
And return to its environment
If it was late afternoon
A hoot-hoot from an old owl
Tuning up for its nightly hunt
At times such as this
I found a childish peace from
my turbulent world

©December 10, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

© Copyright 2016 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved
Ari Squire
Member
Posts 488
In The Phallus Lane
1 posted 2016-12-12 07:12 PM


Wonderful, if not tranquil settings for a boy and his natural mentors. Not an innocence lost, obviously. Whatever a child comes home to is no match for where he's been.

Thoroughly enjoyed leaving the house with you Jerry.  

Loving Linny Jean is poetry.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
2 posted 2016-12-12 07:15 PM


" Whatever a child comes home to is no match for where he's been."

I am speechless, Ari. Thank you.

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

Rex Allen McCoy
Member Elite
since 2000-01-30
Posts 2863
Sippin a Timmy's in London
3 posted 2016-12-12 09:03 PM


I can't say it better than Ari... A child creates his own adventures, any time, anywhere, with nearly anything
JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
4 posted 2016-12-12 09:10 PM


Yea, you're right, Rex. I vaguely remember those kind of days. The creek and me is one of the more vivid ones .

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

Jack Napes
Member
since 2014-02-22
Posts 290
Phaedra's Womb
5 posted 2016-12-13 03:48 AM


There was an old creek which flowed slow, if at all, between the Indiana Harbor Belt (RR) track rise and many old industrial plants. Us kids never gave a thought of what was in it, but we sure had a ball splashing away during the warm summer months. Your poem brings it back for me as it does for you JerryPat. Carefree days at the creek...then the long walk home.

Thanks for an excellent read my friend.


Touch, but don't look

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
6 posted 2016-12-13 09:01 AM


Yep, I recall childish memories here and there,It is the short time memories which causes me trouble. I think you big time for stopping by today, Jack.

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

Boomer Styles
Member
since 2014-03-02
Posts 194
South Side Of Success
7 posted 2016-12-13 02:04 PM


The best seat in the house for a symphony that one might wish never ended. Life just gets in it's own way and we keep moving along with it, tolerating ourselves and it. I wish you well.

One ladle serves the soup that feeds the mouths of the many.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
8 posted 2016-12-13 02:14 PM


Thanks Boomer.

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

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