Tides and Home Movies....

It's Open Link Night over at dversepoets.com  Take a peak at what others have to offer in the way of poetry...

Black and white flickers on walls, images
of we kids way back when in summers hot;
spliced film footage of us then, at waves' edge,
running on hard wet sand, white hot sand not 

Low tide found us exploring ocean rocks 
with pails, shovels, eyes sought unbroken shells;
seaweed trained ankles, agates filled pockets
Moats filled with foam as our sand castles fell

The present passed quickly by, just from our
jumping up and down; grandma waved and smiled
we poked anemones  assumed flowers

mollusks squirted up at us, crabs ran wild 

Sun tan oil, first aid, and steaming cocoa;

We ate charred hot dogs, blackened marshmallows
Starfish stared back at us; jellyfish foul
memories in a groove of time, kept safe somehow 

Somewhere, a lifetime ago, the laughter 
we saw on the screen abruptly ended 
The silent opera was over faster
than any of us ever intended

Reels spun out of control, film's tail flapped about 
Now do you hear the ocean far away?
Hold the shells to your ear if any doubt -
.. it's funny how fast we moved on that day?

Paper dolls..sour lemonade..

Today at dversepoets.com we are writing about childhood memories...a huge realm of subject matter..

Young girls played in rows 

of Ladies' Mantel..
smelled of new hay and squealed
high soprano C

     rose lips pursed.. pretending to be movie stars

They wore hand sewn dresses..

played 'neath cedar trees

..ran barefoot..made mud pies...

played hopscotch 

in the same field where they caught 

grasshoppers in jars..

They drew pictures of horses...plucked daisy petals

They wound pastel ribbons 'round the 

maypole in May while 

the piano played

...gained many a skinned knee..

jumping rope..climbing high bars..

Among their best pastimes..
 cutting paper dolls..sharing a sleeping bag..
learning to tie knots..balancing on
a sunbeam..pushing each other high
on a swing..swooning to 45's
wearing mom's heels, dressing up
..making brownies..
running long and faaaar
They thought they might be dancers 

in the Royal Ballet..

even Miss America
..but the wrong way signs

pointed to factories..

where they ironed firm pleats 

with dry steam

...no longer wishing on stars

Others folded diapers..

being still a teen....already daughters

of faulty design..

they were not meant to be amid bridesmaids

who flocked to the beaches 

of Bordeaux

..not to mention no accolades from an

Alma mater

Had they known from 

the beginning...that the pattern was set..

that their deep scars..

left by mixed messages and

conditional love they trusted,

would impede them, 

they would have rebelled..ranted and raved

They would have had the power..

..and would have denied the sour

lemonade...

they had they been fed 

from the start