January 24, 2005
-
The Park Poem.
A cold wind is blowing
at the back of my neck,
in the distance a train hoots
and I am by a big lake
and have just fed the ducks
and they are looking for more bread.
Fir-cones roll in the wind
that ripples up the lake
that with the sun on it
looks like vanilla ice-cream.
I said to Mummy about the dead trees
and she told me that
they are not dead,
just resting for the winter.
Mummy says it’s too cold to write poetry
but I don’t care.
I love to see the water
even on a cold day.
This is a lovely park
and the ducks think so too.
A little girl is crying
she does not like the wind
it scares her
but it is only God
blowing away the dust of the winter.
Bare branches creak behind me
like in a scary film.
But I love this park
even in January,
even today
when it is so cold.
Mummy is grinning
I tell her I am writing
a very l o n g poem,
she says I am clever and stupid
both at the same time.
She says there is a pub
that allows children in,
shall we go there?
I don’t think she is enjoying the park
like I am,
though my clothes are
thicker than the ones she is wearing.
But I must not be mean,
so I am putting away this pen,
love comes before everything
even a poem.
—
Sophie Lucy Morgan (aged nine)
____________________
See also The_Clowne_from_Clown for a blog of the walk where I wrote the above.
And Three_Headed_Sarahs are writing plays, their blog have been up two days now, and have got some prose for them.
As I have spent the whole evening answering comments from the above two blogs, comments here might have to wait a day or so!
Terry.
Comments (44)
first! awesome works man! dman awesome words, i love your form and style, youre the best on xanga in my book
peace
John
and my dad doesnt give a shit about me writing anything with his ex-communist ideals of “productivity”
God, I just love Sophie.
(And ryc..thanks for the comments – but I suppose football is an acquired taste. Especially easy, though, when your team is a winning one!)
Sophie is a very adorable person. I love your poems by her.
Nine is such a wonderful age.
I hope you are doing well.
Stay warm and happy
Now that everyone knows it is you writing all these poems it is O.K. but you must admit a long time ago you made it seem she was a little girl, not an old cranky man( I mean that in a nice way as you must admit you are cranky at times)Still as that has been all sorted out .I think most people know about your personalities if you were a woman, i would call you Eve. Keep up the good work and keep cheerful, you are still breathing be thankfull Cheers marj
personally my fave bit..
Fir-cones roll in the wind
that ripples up the lake
that with the sun on it
looks like vanilla ice-cream.
so there!
I love this! (((Hugs))) Cheers! (clinks beer glass against monitor)
This is a first rate poem! Brilliant job! Sophie is a wonderful character.
Peace.
PS: All is well for me now, and I’m back in the game.
I read the Clown description of the walk before I read the poem. It is most interesting to see how you transformed the walk to make it a poem. I like your Sophie voice. I like to think of not being dead but resting for the winter.
-HUGS- you have a very creative mind, very imaginative so keep it up !!! Being new to your site, I always thought Sophie was your daughter until i realised she’s not
I am glad I read your other site first, and then read this. I like both views! Sophie has such an endearing way of putting things. And so, so do you!
I love this~
Many Blessings~
Sophie’s poems are like Mozart’s piano trios. Each one is better than all the others. Great finish to this one. Reminds me of fairysprinces77. Must visit her now.
Yikes, I meant to type fairyskisses77.
Those last fewlines are quite wonderful … this is a keeper!
Love comes before a poem, right! but a poem is also love.
It is never cold to write poetry.It is never to cold ro see the beauty of things.
Simply amazing, especially from one so young! Thanks for sharing!
Have a wonderful evening!
john lennon eh, well… i am well versed on the Beatles
I like parks in all seasons and I like your poem. (P.S. Raguslil sent me.)
Such great imagery!
Sophie is so sweet…such is the innocence from a child’s point of view.
Regarding your comment: I think I understood what you were trying to say. Did you, by chance, mean monosyllables and polysyllables? If so, I’ve never heard of those terms. Forgive my silly question but what are they and what is the difference between the two?
Nice poem! I wish I knew who the author really is… Have a nice day and thank you for your comment on my blog!
“love comes before everything
even a poem,” I think John Lennon would have loved these lines and I do too.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the notes saying what songs bloggers are listening to does not mean readers can also listen unless a purchase is made. Right?
Smart,sweet Sophie. I LOVE her. The line about God blowing away the dust of winter is so neat! Now, if he could only blow away the snow as easily!!!!
I always have a vague feeling that Sophie is destined to become like her mother. She’s so naive its as if a polar backlash is inescapable. Good to read your poetry again, Pineapple!
That is so beautiful. I love Sophie more each day!
i always look forward to reading your entries…
they have a certain touch.
*smile* this is just wonderful.
I love this one.
It amazes me how you are able to write from so many perspectives.
You’ve not seen the whole of life until you meet Life face to face on His terms.
hey, thanks for the great feedback!
Dear friend,
I am writing to let you know how dear you and your writing are to me at given times. Today is one of those times as this poem from Sophie is one of her/your best. Her insight grows with the growth of your imagination. She is a beauty of a child created by you and your beautiful creativity and mind.
Thank you always for being such a good friend and keep on writing,
Becca
PS, thought I would mention that site you visited the other day has closed down. Just in case, notice a previous comment to this one above.
Becca
I would like to ask you why you make this appear as a child’s poem when you write it… sorry, I do not know you history here but this sounds very strange to me. Peace
Thanks Lordy for reading and for posting the card from your collection. I have several hundred postcards of various locales but haven’t collected in earnest for several years. I’m glad I’ve discovered a way to share the best ones. By the way my postcard was of a scene in Montreal that a friend sent me. I lived there nearly 30 years ago and never had a bike stolen–of course things might be different now.
the site you went to and told her to write a little to be believable. cant even remember the site name but can find it in my history.
regarding your comment on the book im currently reading :
yes i guess the book wouldnt do much for you. im studying law.
Beautiful writing–I can see your park, feel I’m right in it. We all have so many different people inside.
Thank you.
I have always been fascinated by “dead trees”. I couldn’t tell you why, but I like the idea that they are just resting. Thanks for showing me a different point of view.
parks and poems, go together.. keep writing the poems..
This was just wonderful! I like how you were inspired by a real life event. Perhaps that is often the case but you allowed us to see more or less how you really did it. Marvelous.
I had an epiphany yesterday. I’m going to be working towards getting into graduate school to get my PhD in Psychology. I’m going to see if I find a program that will let me get to the Master’s, I’ll get evaluated, and if I don’t meet the requirements to go beyond that, then I’ll simply be granted the Master’s which I imagine I will still be able to use. It’s such a relief to finally know what it is I’ll be aiming to do…
Be well. No need to get back to me right away. You visit me often. My turn
The last verse was a kicker to ones heart though oddly beautiful thank you beckon/angelM
.Guess you missed my Jan 25th post … but its ok
Have a good weekend ahead anyway,.
Dear sophie,
I like your poem. Your mummy is very wise to know that the trees are resting in winter and are not dead. And you are so caring to postpone writing a poem to go with mummy.