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Earth Child
| Open Poetry #15 |
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Earth Child |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee 
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Before the knowledge of the Flower Child There was another more private movement In my life called, Earth Child. The time of youth when dirt was magnificent. Add water for pies, add sticks for mud huts. Wad a ball on the end of a sapling and Fling The River's great divide. Splattering Adventure. Berries were abundant for Painting faces Savage Stalking through the woods. Serving them Up on little platters, butter bowl lids. Careful not to let anyone really eat The poisonous ones. Painting rocks hieroglyphic. And grass, what note a blade of grass could hit. When held just right between the thumbs. Sour grass, was just that. Sour. But daring. Clover, was the choice grass to tumble Especially when I fell on my face. Stains of childhood. Thankfully My Mother never could get them out. [This message has been edited by rwood (edited 08-20-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 Regina Wood - All Rights Reserved | |||
Interloper
since 2000-11-06
Posts 8369Deep in the heart |
Ah, memories ... Well done. |
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shadow974 Senior Member
since 2001-06-21
Posts 636Michigan |
Loads of fun, had a few mud pies my sister made, I like 'm well done and I like this poem it's well done. Enjoyed. Throw your heart out in front of you |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
yes thankfully the stain of such memories do not wash out easily... very nicely done. |
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