Refreshments, incredibly heard, knocking on the door
Knocking on the door, this is where the party's at at at!
And nobody's really asking and rarely ever don't care
Mostly on and off the highway, social flair, so cool
Acting out my age ghostly, with top hat and neat costume
Sometimes a loon, in the day, midnight till dawn tuned
Predicaments, patch worked experience shaping the clay
Broadening skills have social and private patterned paces
There are rest stops in intervals toward each finish line
Just take a breath, exhale, time and trails have moved on
About as long as a stick of gum, stuck on sole of shoe
Obstacles spare no one, we all sit at the same booth
Innovation, mind's eye, a voice has unique ways
Customary, ordinary self, extending fingers to the sky
Angels holding the paint pots, whispering, my ear tries
To capture the golden ether. of Angelic melodies
As beauty is the reflection of finger paintings
Finger paintings where the heart of joy shouts glee
Ineffable expansions if nice, starlight, heart's swaying
Speed and beat, comfortable restating, early child life
Inside resides opening eyes, exploration and doing
Washing dishes was fun till age took away your sponge
Discovery, changing air, let child inside free to imbue
Search high and low for a child like delightfulness in you
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Comments: 49
Excellent poem, William.
No surprise as to what I love best:
"Angels holding the paint pots, whispering, my ear tries
To capture the golden ether. of Angelic melodies
As beauty is the reflection of finger paintings
Finger paintings where the heart of joy shouts glee"
hugs
"Washing dishes was fun till age took away your sponge"
My grandparents used to fill up their sink with water and soaps and I was allowed to wash the dishes for them. I loved doing this but am sure I made one heck of a mess. I was always wrapped in this big apron and remember it being soaked when I was done. Why is it washing dishes becomes a chore when we are older?
We grew up singing while we washed dishes. All 6 kids in the fam. We sang all the old family songs, and the traditional "American Songs." We still do this, to the delight and bewilderment of the grandkids when we get together on holidays. They're asking things like, "How do all of you know all the same words to so many songs? No dishwashing machines for us, thank you very much.
Wilka
what wonderful thoughts you sent our way
Morning, my good lady
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
I never liked to iron clothes either and still don't.
Nice poem William.
Search high and low for a child like delightfulness in you".
I definitely liked it, my dear friend! ;-)
Blessings and bests wishes - S.
Anna del C.
Author of "The Silent Warrior Trilogy"
http://www.annadelc.com
Hope you are feeling a lot better now.
Spicecomments.com - Christian Comments
I really like this my dear,,,it makes one stop to think,,, Bless you,,,
Back to your poem. Once again you wove another enchanting poem with delicious turns of phrases. Thank you.
Memories reside of
When we were young
And we could reach
For the sky.
Now, may I have the green as that's my favorite color? If not, yellow will be fine, it's happy!
Marilyn
Wonderfully joyous, William.
Washing dishes ... all of us have memories. Not only of ourselves as kids ... but of our own kids standing on the chair splashing away.
By the time they were too old to stand on the chair they were too old to enjoy the chore :)
I did.
That reminds me of a trip to Montana on the train when I was little. My mom, brother and I would take the train back to visit family. We had fig newtons along as a treat (we must have had a deprived childhood) and left them at our seat when we went up to look out the dome car. When we got back, some other kids had eaten our fig newtons! I think I was actually sad at the time but now I would have been grateful.