It was something when I was young,
a-hiking with the lads, gatherings by bike
testing outdoor skills, climbed
trees, jumped brooks and struck
matches against rock to see sparks fly
always a couple of moose, common
in our section of country. Back
then, destination’s goal
a stretch of bulrushes, shoots of
cat-tails calling. We fell upon them with
wild gusto using them as spears and
clubs, showering each other with
clouds of fluttering seed and boyhood
joy wrestling on the ground.
Today’s youth gather mostly in pairs
to compete in computer games,
the woods a place to avoid, where bird
flu and mosquito scares
are subjects to escape from.
© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/
Comments
skinner_jennifer | November 1, 2011 - 12:26
Never was a truer word spoken Richard.
Some children miss out on so much fun and adventure
today.
When I was young I lived in a house that had a garden
gate going straight out into the woods, it was an
amazing place for girls and boys to play, climbing
trees, making dens, playing cowboys and indians and
just generally spending time in the fresh air. We
never worried about anything back then, except having
fun. We used to pick buckets of bluebells too, mum
used to go mad, but we loved picking them so much.
Ahhh! the memories. Thankyou for sharing this great
poem of childhood memories.
Jenny.
Richard L. Prov... | November 1, 2011 - 17:09
Thanks, Jenny. My own children, now grown, do not fully comprehend the joy we had with so little materials. I used pieces of wood as toys, and is just one example how we created our own fun. Memories, eh? Richard LP