Do I want to remember
when I was twelve
so long ago.
When I was suffering
between being a kid
and a teenage brat.
Making demands,
no one understood.
Dreams of
far away places.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to explore.
I wanted to be
like the city kids.
I was tired of being
a country kid.
Thanks so much for sharing your memory poem about being twelve. I like the poem a lot. It’s honest and the reader knows you better because of those few, well selected words. Such is the beauty and power of poetry.
I love the illustration too. CONNECTING DOTS was illustrated by Kelley Cunningham Cousineau and I’ve very fond of her work. She captured the moment beautifully.
David
Here sitting by the rosebush
I found a place to cry.
My Grandmom died two days ago.
I’m here.
I don’t know why.
Or why it took two days for tears,
Or why I have to hide.
Why did my Grandmom leave so soon?
What happens when you die?
That’s a poignant memory. I think it’s healthy to write about sorrow and uncertainty and if young readers see our examples, they are more likely to understand that it’s okay for them to write from the heart too.
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Remmembering Twelve
Do I want to remember
when I was twelve
so long ago.
When I was suffering
between being a kid
and a teenage brat.
Making demands,
no one understood.
Dreams of
far away places.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to explore.
I wanted to be
like the city kids.
I was tired of being
a country kid.
by Mary Nida Smith
Mary Nida,
Thanks so much for sharing your memory poem about being twelve. I like the poem a lot. It’s honest and the reader knows you better because of those few, well selected words. Such is the beauty and power of poetry.
David
Thank you David for your kind review. Your poem stirred anxieties of being late for school. I love the illustration.
I love the illustration too. CONNECTING DOTS was illustrated by Kelley Cunningham Cousineau and I’ve very fond of her work. She captured the moment beautifully.
David
Rosa
Here sitting by the rosebush
I found a place to cry.
My Grandmom died two days ago.
I’m here.
I don’t know why.
Or why it took two days for tears,
Or why I have to hide.
Why did my Grandmom leave so soon?
What happens when you die?
Liz,
That’s a poignant memory. I think it’s healthy to write about sorrow and uncertainty and if young readers see our examples, they are more likely to understand that it’s okay for them to write from the heart too.
Thanks,
David