Hello, dear readers,
Wishing everyone a very happy month of May! It’s “Get Caught Reading Month” and I hope you do.
I’ve designated “Velocipede” as my favorite word of the month. It was the name given to most any bicycle built in the early 1800s. While there seems to be some debate over which came first, the French designed Velocipede or the British engineered Penny Farthing of the late 1800s, the Penny Farthing was arguably the safer of the two. However, brakes were unheard of at the time. Do you recall learning how to ride a bike? How many falls did you take before balance took over?
What’s your word for May?
Do you ever wish your phone would stop spell-checking every time you want to text like you speak? Those automatic word substitutions have me editing what I say before I even say it. Maybe that’s a good thing 😉
Until again, dear friends, happy hug your cat day, and don’t forget to call your mom on Mother’s Day.
Streampebbles 
dIEDRE ~
I’d have been here earlier (on my Ma’s birthday, May 13th) but I hadn’t felt too well the last couple days. Got some much-needed sleep last night, though.
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The one poem I have that’s very specifically about my Ma is kind of deep ‘n’ depressing. So I’m going to post ‘Days Long Past’ instead. It does mention my Ma but, again, this isn’t exactly the most uplifting poem. It was written on August, 12, 1980, back when I had acquired the nickname ‘Mr. Intense’. Ha!-Ha! It’s funny to think that I had just turned 21 only 4 days earlier when I wrote this. Even in my youth, I was already lamenting the loss of my… youth. :^D
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I honestly don’t know if this thing is any good at all or not. But I promised to post a poem so, here it is:
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DAYS LONG PAST
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Often I look back into days long past
Those careless, easy days when I was small
And again I play children’s games in a timeless Summer
The wind bringing the sound of my Mother’s call
Father was working, Mother was young
My Brother was little and so was I
Dirt was free and imaginations were wild
I thought that I could fly
Our days were new and never-ending
And, oh, those stories told under the tree
I remember the long walk to school
And the walk home, to Brother, waiting for me
Still I recall those sunny days
Playing with friends and that punch on the nose
Real cowboys and real Indians
Back then one could be whomever they chose
And of course I was always in love
With a little girl who lived down the street
Those wondrous days when fantasy
Made reality obsolete
.
Those long gone days seem almost perfect
One thing I’d change, however:
I only wish that I’d been told
That they wouldn’t last forever
For the days moved very slowly
Yet the years fell behind so fast
And now I’ve come to realize
The best is in the past
.
Now Father is working and Mother feels old
And the world tells me I am grown
Boys are calling, Sister is dating
And Brother lives alone
You see the world through different eyes
When you support yourself
And it’s no fun to act your age when younger days
Are toys on the shelf
The body slows down along with your thoughts
As age steals your imagination
And your claim to youth has long been taken
By a brand new generation
I see so much has changed
Mother and Brother say they want to die
And I can’t relive the age of nine
Despite the tears I cry
And the happiness that I once knew
I simply cannot find
Now all I have are memories
That echo in my mind
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Well, dIEDRE, that’s it. Good, bad, or so-so, the promise has been kept.
~ D-FensDogG
STMcC Presents BATTLE OF THE BANDS
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Hi Stephen T.!
Awesome poem, my friend! Well beyond so-so. And so atmospheric I could imagine your brother’s glee at your return from school each day, remember free dirt and wild imaginations 😉
I too began to reminisce bygone days – about the time the first rent check was due.
Hope you’ll stop by the stream again. Meantime, I’ll see ya at the next battle!
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