For We Write Poems: Prompt #119 – This Reminds Me…
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/
Sister’s Backyard
Often reminds me of old house
on Third and Tenth, across street
from city park where Spring
brought thick green scent
of fresh mown grass anchored
beneath large oak trees,
whose leaves drifted down
like butterflies tired after
Summer’s fleeting moments
of children’s fading squeals
and laughter. Winter’s flooded ice
rink, ‘warming house’ where stretched
allowance of one nickel could fetch
hard cardboard cup of hot chocolate,
while outside, slow glide over rough
ice through filigreed snow flakes
descending to meet eagerly awaiting
tongues reaching out to catch them.
Elizabeth Crawford 8/22/12
Notes: My sister’s house and backyard are nothing like that old house of childhood, yet sitting there, whether on her patio or in front of a bonfire, brings back this cascade of memories and movement from our shared past, and the park where we ran and played so freely.
Soul's Music 
Loved your memories here, Elizabeth. I remember flooded ice and warming house too. Somehow I don’t think in my home town they flood ice as freely as they did when I was a kid when winters seemed to be MUCH colder. Yes, and 5 cents for hot chocolate…those were the days! And I can still feel the chill of those snowflakes landing on the tongue.
Thank you Mary and glad to know we share so many of the same kinds of memories.
Elizabeth
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I love poems that hark back to childhood. Beautiful, Elizabeth!
Hey Sherry, we seem to be writing about similar things. Thanks for visiting and for commenting,
Elizabeth
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Elizabeth: I loved the glimpses of all seasons. It’s a wonderful thing, to be reminded of a place for all seasons! ~Paula
Thanks Paula, didn’t know exactly what to do with this prompt but then remembered what often happens when visiting my sister. There is much more to that waterfall of memories, but was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started so decided on one for each of the seasons. Then realized that winter won out.
Elizabeth
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Hi Elizabeth. Not only here, but my sense of you especially as your poems describe, leaves me feeling a very rich sense of history. The word tapestry comes to mind. More than the details, and while well described, it is that woven quality that addresses some thirst. And while I commonly like keeping poems brief – here a voice at the back of my thoughts said simply, “more”.
I could near see another poem, almost a list poem of sorts, just with images images images, the way images really reside inside (without more obvious connection than simply that they are yours). Almost dreamlike. Inside raw unfiltered memory itself. I think you’d be good at doing that. (just wishing out loud, and pardon me). But more than many or most, your images feel very alive – a wonderful quality.
neil
Thank you so much Neil. I do agree that history is very much a part of what I do and am. I kept this short because I am feeling less than great these past few days but wanted to have something for the prompt. I also like what you think I might be able to do. Very intriguing idea and will let it sit inside for a while and see if it grows something.
Elizabeth
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Elizabeth you truly brought winter/childhood alive in your imagery..
Thanks Irene, I wasn’t really sure about the prompt and not feeling well of late. Fairly certain I would do it completely different now or let Neil’s suggestion sit a while before trying it again. Actually, I’m not a big fan of winter, except those in my childhood when we lived across the street from the park. Somehow that park was our private playground and still speaks to me of a certain kind of freedom lost.
Elizabeth
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While I didn’t live any where near Central Park in NYC – I did get to play there and your poem reminds me of that great park which is the only green many get to see as their ‘backyard.’
I went to another back yard…
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/08/wwp-119-pretty-gritty.html
Jules, I have no idea why those memories recur in my sister’s backyard, but I sit back, relax and enjoy them each time. I really like your ‘mud’ memories, they were delightful. Thanks for visiting,
Elizabeth
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This:
“brought thick green scent
of fresh mown grass anchored
beneath large oak trees,
whose leaves drifted down
like butterflies tired after
Summer’s fleeting moments
of children’s fading squeals”
Is magic!
Lovely!
Thanks much Hannah, the memories come in quick vibrant flashes and I was trying to capture that feel and movement. Memory is such a fascinating element.
Elizabeth
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The Spring scene reminds me of the park just across from the house I lived in as a teenager. The house itself does not hold good memories, but the park does. The same green mown carpet, the same oak trees, and add in a few tall pines for good measure. There was a fountain near the west end of the park. I used to go there when I was twelve and daydream, pretty frequently – especially underneath the tallest pine. When we visited that town a few years ago, I found the park was still there.
Thank you for bringing that memory back.
-Nicole
Nicole, I thank you for reminding me of many other things. I moved away and lived for almost forty years in another city, returning here, to the place of my childhood, about five years ago. I have revisited the park and little has changed except that I remember it as filled with children and now there seem to be very few. Time’s wrecking ball affects most things,
Elizabeth
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