A flying carpet of memories
carried me back to childhood.
I was only nine.
It was so nice to put my nose
in the middle of wild carnation
to feel its intoxicating scent,
to jump and try to reach branches,
to touch with my lips
apple and cherry blossom
and to lick the leftovers
of sweet morning dew.
I spent a summer with cousins,
riding a big black motorcycle
between the tall stalks of corn
and screaming into the wind.
My early morning duties were
to feed ducks, chickens and hens.
I worked hard in the orchard,
hair tied into a pony tail,
mouth filled with sour cherries.
An old train... hard wooden seats.
Nine hours I traveled back home,
all day among unknown men
and nobody complains
for its bad smell and smoke
and its sustained, somnolent
tan-dara-dan, tan-dara-dan.
They ate hard boiled eggs,
home made corn-bread and sweet pie,
and drank water and brandy.
Recently I was on the same route,
again among unknown men,
well, most of them.
On my lips a well known taste,
the sweet fruit of love,
of eternity.
Author notes
Childhood Memories
This is for an anonymous contest
Please tell me what you think...
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Outstanding
This is so well written. Our memories of childhood stay with us and I liked the way you included so many fine details that brought this poem to life. I liked the ending as well - just hinting at something more spiritual. Your writing goes from strength to strength.
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This is a wonderful poem - full of childhood memories of a special summer. The train ride by yourself - the summer spent with your cousins. Sounds like a great memory. Thanks for entering.
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You paint a vivid picture, one of magical moments and delightful memories.
A true joy to have read, thanks for sharing your gift.
Smile brightly
Tony
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Believe me, I unintentionally tumbled upon this poem. Anyway, I thought it was great. Smells and taste have always played a part in my memory as well. Maybe because we become aware of its existence in a more profound way. I liked how you described your own smells and taste in your memories of childhood.
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fantastic.
It made me think a lot. child hood is so different these days. I always used to say i'd have prefered to grow up in my mums child hood when she told me stories of how she used to go down to the river, swing on rope swings and go to youth club every evening. If when i'm older and i decide to write a poem of my child hood memmories they probably won't be as interesting. thank you for sharing your memmories in such a good poem. -
what a quaint memory your share with many of your family
sweet dreams!
good to catch up with you, again
Tamara
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Fantastic!!
This precious write brought back a few of my own childhood memories, growing up in Michigan, climbing apple trees, picking apples, and of course, eating them!! Thank you for sharing these wonderful times of your youth. I enjoyed every moment of your colorful story, and felt the poignancy of that long lost innocence, fleeting along those old train tracks of time. 
The last stanza is a beauty!! I'm wishing you all the best, and write on, Poet!! 
Peace & hugs,
xx Cyn xx
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Those bittersweet memories of childhood, before we awaken into our fervent song. Beautifully done, my Friend. At the house we lived at the longest, we had cherry trees, pear trees, flower gardens, blackberry bushes and neighbors who had watermelons, strawberries and crabapple trees. Every harvest was a feast of the senses. My mother made jams and jellies from the fruits and table coverings from the flowers. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie.
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Nice memories
so glad you remember some good ones.
Lovely insight into your good times.
Jim
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WONDERFUL!!!
These are some beautiful memories, may be some of them were of hard times, of times where days were not easy to get though but none the less sweet memories which now are looked back upon in thoughtful and lovely ways.'s
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