Sunday, October 12, 2008

I REMEMBER...

The first time I began writing poetry, I was in the third grade. I even remember the name of the poem, WORRY WORT. When the poem actually was chosen for the school newspaper, well, that was it. I was destined to continue writing. It has been a journey to self-discovery. (Incidentally, I have always been a worry wort.)

Poetry has afforded me a creative means to express myself and in so doing, I have been able to share joy, celebration and sometimes sadness in a unique way. Each experience has taken on a life of its own becoming an outpouring of feelings and emotions.

As you probably guessed, I especially like taking on the persona of a child when I create my children's poems. It keeps me honest and real and gives me a chance to be a child again. That's important. There's no fooling a child. They can see through any pretense or artificiality.

Here are a couple more children's poems. The first gives you an idea of how I have always felt being short of stature. The second is a recollection from my youth about my own grandpa.

SHRIMP
By Patty Lynn

Oh, gee, I wish I were taller.
I’m tired of being a shrimp.
I wish I could ask God the reason
Why He decided to scrimp.

There sure is a surplus of big guys,
The one’s with their shoulders up there.
They look down enough so you see them,
And give you that terrible stare.

I’m standing as tall as I’m able.
My heels are as high as I dare,
But with all of this stuff,
It just isn’t enough,
Their noses are still in the air!

MY GRANDPA
By Patty Lynn

My grandpa’s a kidder.
My grandpa’s such fun.
Whenever we visit,
He’s glad that we’ve come.

He tells me “tall” tales
Of creatures he keeps
Way down in his basement,
Where I cannot peek.

Lions and tigers
Giraffes by the dozens,
And two chimpanzees
That he says are my cousins.

Sometimes they’re so real,
Down the stairs I start creeping,
But he stops me in time
And says that they’re sleeping.

Pretending with Gramps
Is my favorite game.
And I let him know
That I’m glad that we came.

1 comment:

Jill said...

Was this a true story about Grandpa's house or did I miss something?

Jill OX

Cute poems!