![]() Let the wife of thy love, like the sun of thy day, While the spring-tide of life in thy bosom is high,Īnd thy spirit is light as a lark in the sky. Let the joy-dance be wove, let the timbrels resound, Let the banquet be spread, let the wine-cup go round, Rejoice, mortal man, in the noon of thy prime!Įre thy brow shall be traced by the ploughshare of time,Įre the twilight of age shall encompass thy way,Īnd thou droop’st, like the flowers, to thy rest in the clay. One may return to the place of his birth, He roamed the fields, he wooed the streams, “Oh, for a draught of those fountains sweet, He sought the old scenes with eager feet. If I could go to the kitchen door to look for the gooseberry jamb! I would give the whole of my bank account and the worldly success I am, The fool that would fall for an open trick and be fooled in those innocent ways. The body that lives and the mind that and the soul that trusts and sings.Īnd would I could be the kind of fool I was in the olden days, Who has to go back, with his temples gray, to the very primary school.Īnd learn the fundamentals of life, the simple, essential things. Yes, now you behold in me the fool, the melancholy fool The fool that sells for the bubble of fame his happiness and health. The fool that toils for a hunk of gold and misses the only wealth The fashion of fool that dabbles in stocks and leaves his earnings behind When I found the purse tied to a string, and discovered the sugar was salt,Īnd tried to pick up the county line for jolly Uncle Walt.įor now I’m a fool of a different sort, a less desirable kind, ![]() When people could send me on idiotic errands to the store. I wish I could be the kind of fool I was in the days of yore, Who returned a shy whisper across the aisle Who knew that fleeting moments gather at the end? When I look into the mirror I still see my childhood self ![]() Has tale tell signs that show up in the mirror Together, we would have escaped the world. When the kids would fall asleep in the bunks,Ī cuddle would be awaiting in front of the fireplace.Īnd savor our salty popcorn and sweet milk chocolate. My husband would sing silly songs and play his guitar,Īnd make my children blush with fiery laughter. Then we would roast marshmallows and make s’mores, Where I would read and watch my children play in the water. Maybe I will also have a treehouse, or a hammock, Where there would be a lake in my backyard. Parents are supposed to be able to provide help to children and navigate them in this confusing world.Ī cabin, perhaps, isolated from the world, We don’t do our children favors when we don’t provide guidance to them. In western society, there are so many options given to children that they often feel confused and lost. There is no manual for growing up or being mature. They must deal will all sorts of emotional, physical, psychological changes as they grow. The challenges that a child or a teenager faces throughout his/her life cycle are overwhelming. Poems about Growing up – Growing up is very challenging no matter how easy it may seem. The Badgerdog program is a community-based creative writing project for people of all ages.Poems about Growing up, Coming of age, and going through Adolescence. The Library Foundation supports the Austin Public Library by increasing awareness and enhancing library programs, facilities and collections. ![]() She authored this poem for the 2014 Badgerdog Creative Writing Summer Camp-a program of the Austin Public Library Friends Foundation. How to stumble and fall and learn to hate your toes.īecause best is something the worst wouldĪsking you to think about what you’re texting.Įmma Baumgardner is a ninth grader at McCallum High School. How to look in the mirror and only see your nose, Of desperately trying to cure the image you hate. You don’t need to know how these labels work. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |