Writing Challenge: Write A Piece About A Childhood Memory

[New]

<here's my first poem ever in Words. and most likely my last.


When I was but a tiny tike,
Too small to even ride a bike,
The world was new, the days were long,
And Ernie sang my favorite song.
My mom looked like a pair of knees,
And dad seemed taller than the trees.
Mornings, oh I loved them most!
To wake up smelling eggs and toast,
And have my only worry be,
To wonder who would play with me.
My big wheel had a trunk and brake,
But Inchworm’s who I liked to take,
For rides that seemed like many miles,
I powered him with pride and smiles.
Hot dogs for lunch, without a bun,
Because that seemed like much more fun.
And fun meant everything back then,
I’d kill to do it all again!
A game of kickball was the best,
And when it came time for a rest,
We’d lay upon the grass and stare,
Up at the sky without a care.
Back then, when I was just a kid,
It snowed much more, I swear it did.
Tunneling through drifts of twelve feet high,
My puffy snowsuit kept me dry.
And when the days came to an end,
Bathtub toys were my best friend.
They never found it somewhat weird,
That on my chin a bubble beard,
Was what I wore. It made me feel,
Like Santa, only not as real.
And when the grown-ups talked to me,
And asked me what I’d want to be,
When I grew up, I’d tell them that,
For sure, I knew I’d be a cat.

I enjoyed the whimsy expressed in this. Now why don't you post in Words more?

 

[(Wordy)]

I like when Words can be more interactive.

Ditto. Cool thread idea, pennywise, and some interesting responses so far. I'll aim to contribute at some point.

 

[Raz]

for my ma

and here I was gonna write something
painful
something about wounds that were
open and bleeding
and raw for too long
something about
healing
that took its sweet time
maybe about when
Tony choked me till I passed out
or when Dale held my sister by her throat up against the wall
and I cowered and cried and screamed
and she couldn't even do that
she just gagged
and tried to divert his attention from us
and succeeded
that time
maybe the times
I failed at sport
or my legs hurt
or they called me names
and even worse
the times they felt sorry for me
I died once you know
but that doesn't really count
I was only a baby
and it's a story more than a memory
I could write about the near drowning
or the time I was bitten by ants
or locked in a box with only dead moths
when Quang left
or Kyle died
or the times I wondered what kind of person my dad was
and why my brother hated me so
but the thing that comes to mind
more than anything else
is lying on the couch
lazy summer heat
with Dolly Parton on the tv
or old Elvis Presley movies
feeling safe beyond question
my head against my mum's belly
and feeling her heartbeat
the only sound
the only memory
that really
really matters.

 

[SorbetCitron]

Raz that was beautiful - really beautiful.

 

[pennywise]

wow, Vibby, freakin sweeet. I loved it! Really, it was awesome, you need to post here more. I actually laughed and smiled through the whole thing, which means it really affected me, as I rarely show any emotion when I am reading. You really nailed that feeling I was going for in my piece, only using far fewer words. Like new said, whimsical (which is perfect for this theme) but powerfully whimsical, in the best kind of way.

Raz, I liked the change of pace. Being a kid was so much fun, but it could be scary sometimes too, especially because you were so small and really helpless when it came down to it. But somehow, you felt safer sometimes, especially around loving parents, than you ever feel as an adult. It really made me think. Good job.

 

[BREAKaBEAT]

and here I was gonna write something
painful
something about wounds that were
open and bleeding
and raw for too long
something about
healing
that took its sweet time
maybe about when
Tony choked me till I passed out
or when Dale held my sister by her throat up against the wall
and I cowered and cried and screamed
and she couldn't even do that
she just gagged
and tried to divert his attention from us
and succeeded
that time
maybe the times
I failed at sport
or my legs hurt
or they called me names
and even worse
the times they felt sorry for me
I died once you know
but that doesn't really count
I was only a baby
and it's a story more than a memory
I could write about the near drowning
or the time I was bitten by ants
or locked in a box with only dead moths
when Quang left
or Kyle died
or the times I wondered what kind of person my dad was
and why my brother hated me so
but the thing that comes to mind
more than anything else
is lying on the couch
lazy summer heat
with Dolly Parton on the tv
or old Elvis Presley movies
feeling safe beyond question
my head against my mum's belly
and feeling her heartbeat
the only sound
the only memory
that really
really matters.

Its so rare that words will bring me to tears, but this emotive piece just did that. Partly because I can relate, partly because you can write.

 

[vurtomatic]

Sepia is the color of daddy’s breath
warmth on my tiny pink hand
black and wiry are his stubble
ouch, he laughs, I squirm, my hand
a tiny patch of hot

Green, brown, yellow a whirl
is a daze am dizzy am up
in the air in his arms
round round round
wheee, he laughs, I squeal
the world dissolves
except for daddy

Red is the color of father’s wrath
lines and lines of them, crossing
head between my arms, curled
welts rising, splitting red
ouch, he shouts, I scream, my body
a crisscross of hot

White is the shock of adulthood
I never thought, I don’t know
I mean, what? Happened?

And dark is my shadow
as I turned and walked, away
ashamed, embarrassed, shocked
his palm a burning white on my cheek

Black and white is him
reclined in the darkness, defeated
the reds, the greens, the browns, the yellows
faded sepia in the eyes
life spilling away

Even when I tried

He was already old
when I was young

There was never time enough
and now, there’s no time left.

 

[youarewhatyouis]

pizza in the morning
pizza in the evening
pizza at supper time
when pizzas on a bagel
you can have pizza anytime