 |
| Emily's Quotes |
“And the sun and the moon sometimes argue over who will tuck me in at night. If you think I am having more fun than anyone on this planet, you are absolutely correct.” ―
“One thing I had learned from watching chimpanzees with their infants is that having a child should be fun.” ―
―
Can you list 10 ways you have fun?
Fun for me is ACTIVE, like: licking the cooking spoon, playing a challenging game of Scrabble, drinking tea while visiting, reading a good book, re-reading the good book, praying while coloring, stroking the cats until they purr, writing a poem in an un-rushed time, reading poetry aloud, and taking long walks on cool days. That's 10 things. What's the first 10 that occur to you? the next 10?
The challenge: In a new poem, find a meaningful way to have fun fore-grounding fun.
 |
| Children’s Games by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1560) |
(I)
This is a schoolyard
crowded
with children
of all ages near a
village
on a small stream
meandering by
where some boys
are swimming
bare-ass
or climbing a tree in
leaf
everything
is motion
elder women are
looking
after the small
fry
a play wedding a
christening
nearby one leans
hollering
into
an empty hogshead
(II)
Little girls
whirling their skirts
about
until they stand out
flat
tops pinwheels
to run in the wind
with
or a toy in 3 tiers
to spin
with a piece
of twine to make it
go
blindman’s-buff
follow the
leader stilts
high and low tipcat
jacks
bowls hanging by the
knees
standing on your head
run the gauntlet
a dozen on their
backs
feet together kicking
through which a boy
must pass
roll the hoop or a
construction
made of bricks
some mason has
abandoned
(III)
The desperate toys
of children
their
imagination
equilibrium
and rocks
which are to be
found
everywhere
and games to drag
the other down
blindfold
to make use of
a swinging
weight
with which
at random
to bash in the
heads about
them
Brueghel saw it all
and with his grim
humor faithfully
recorded
it.
The wind may blow the snow about,
For all I care, says Jack,
And I don’t mind how cold it grows,
For then the ice won’t crack.
Old folks may shiver all day long,
But I shall never freeze;
What cares a jolly boy like me
For winter days like these?
Far down the long snow-covered hills
It is such fun to coast,
So clear the road! the fastest sled
There is in school I boast.
The paint is pretty well worn off,
But then I take the lead;
A dandy sled’s a loiterer,
And I go in for speed.
When I go home at supper-time,
Ki! but my cheeks are red!
They burn and sting like anything;
I’m cross until I’m fed.
You ought to see the biscuit go,
I am so hungry then;
And old Aunt Polly says that boys
Eat twice as much as men.
There’s always something I can do
To pass the time away;
The dark comes quick in winter-time—
A short and stormy day
And when I give my mind to it,
It’s just as father says,
I almost do a man’s work now,
And help him many ways.
I shall be glad when I grow up
And get all through with school,
I’ll show them by-and-by that I
Was not meant for a fool.
I’ll take the crops off this old farm,
I’ll do the best I can.
A jolly boy like me won’t be
A dolt when he’s a man.
I like to hear the old horse neigh
Just as I come in sight,
The oxen poke me with their horns
To get their hay at night.
Somehow the creatures seem like friends,
And like to see me come.
Some fellows talk about New York,
But I shall stay at home.
 |
| Nostalgia 3 by Sunil Pookode (2016) (Used without Permission. Forgive me.) |
I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).
But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.
🎲Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—(Next week Sumana’s Midweek Motif will be ~ Cloud)
