i knew, as a wide-eyed little girl
that holding my red p f flyers
while laying in my bed
during thunderstorms
was enough rubber to save my soul
from lightning strikes from the devils.


my brothers and i spent our summers
camping bare souled beneath the sky
waiting to count the third shooting star
before we closed our eyes to slumber.
listening to them give into sleep
was such a lonely business. ...see,
their sleep was one place i never followed.
i would lay awake and sing songs in my head
while somersaulting across my blanket
realizing in all the world
there was no one alive that matched me.

shall i tell you a secret that happened to me
on one of these empty midnights?
well, the backside of the moon winked down at me
with poker face innocence, a querying brow
and red rover charm to swoon me.
he whistled mchale's navy theme song
and teased me with his light shows.
i guess no one knew but him and me
that he could turn into butternut cream,
then into reds of raspberry and cherry.

there, by the banks of the aspen creek
he gave me strengths of wisdom and faith
and humor to last me a lifetime.
he rocked me, he soothed me,
he held me with his songs.
when orion’s belt warned of the sun's approach,
he left me with this promise:
that the night would come
when he'd turn campfire-flame blue
and thunder would snap across my skyline.
but if i would relax and let sleep tuck me away
i'd wake to a world that could match me.

now, 40 years of welcoming storms,
tonight the moon has turned fire-flame blue
and the rain is announcing thunder.
so i wrap myself in gramma's wored-out quilt
and welcome the storm and its promise.



redmittengirl

Hi Mitts,

I really like your style and can relate to a lot of the imagery here.

Brucefur

brucefur

thanks for the compliment, i appreciate it! although i no longer have my p f flyer sneakers, most of this poem remains true to this very day.

"mitts"

RMG:

You have a vivid imagination and a nice descriptive touch. I enjoyed this.

Joe

PS: I had a pair of blue P F Flyers.

red,

thanks for the magic. it was sleeping inside...listening to the songs in my head and embracing the night's cool comfort.

Peter

joe-
thanks for the comments. (takes a p f flyer kid to know a p f flyer kid!) now that i realize my brothers were messing with me by telling me those shoes would save me from lightning, i hope that means the moon wasn't messing with me as well with the promises he made me...

(grin)


peter-
am glad the magic is with you too. songs in our heads and that cool night air....(ahhh!) thanks for letting me know you felt all this.


redmittengirl

their sleep was one place i never followed.
i would lay awake and sing songs in my head
while somersaulting across my blanket
realizing in all the world
there was no one alive that matched me.

This is beautifully expressed; moreover, it sounds a lot like my childhood night, red! I love how you close the cycle toward the end with this part, where the moon's promise goes:


but if i would relax and let sleep tuck me away
i'd wake to a world that could match me.

I love your imagination in the third part a lot. It just tastes sweet!

the poem triggers two questions for me:
1. I thought you'd be younger?? I guess I love your youthful spirit then.
2. Is it your birthday? the last part kind of hints at 40 years, so I thought maybe??

Thanks for the read.

k q-

i was touched by your thoughtful post. you had similar childhood nights! (big smile here). i was reading a book of essays by barbara kingsolver (high tide in tucson) and she made a comment about how a writer's work is never quite done until it connects with a reader somewhere. sounds like we connected.

thank you for the comment about my youthful spirit. i turned 50 earlier this year. the 40 bit was more in calculating that all the camping at aspen creek must have been when i was around 10 years old. you are on target, though, in a broader sense because it has just been this year that i have been able to work my way out of cluster in my old life, and reach a point where i could finally begin to write and get back to being who i used to be. i started writing in june of this year and so this poem was a celebration.

thank you for sharing your comments!

redmittengirl

9/11

I'll try to call you tomorrow.. I'm tired.

Red Mitten girl --

You had me at PF Flyers...

they were my magic shoes...Nike had nothing on us, did they?

The place I used to camp as a kid was called Froggy Bottom...there was even a pond there that we would skinny dip in...man, those were the days...

I enjoyed your poem very much...and was especially glad to hear how many other folks on this site understood the importance of PF Flyers.

Christy

christy

i was not able to get into emule til very recently, so i missed your comments on this poem til now. oh yeah, i loved my p f flyers and the years that they were so magical to me....i even miss my brothers that had so much fun convincing me of their super powers.

redmittengirl

advise only... call your brothers and tell them you love them.

terry


ok, two ten, i'll call them. it might be easier to fly to them, as none of them live the phone-on-the-hip lifestyle. i love all them all dearly.

mitts

Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 09/25/2006 12:28PM by johnniegirl.

Sorry for late response to your response. Happy Re-Birthday!

Sherry is another gifted writer who used to visit a lot. I enjoyed everything she ever posted here.

This is fantastic writing...really -really great.

If I can find it, I will post a link to Sherry's book.

Les

Here's a link to a couple of Sherry's poems:

[www.terrain.org] />
go to the link above and type in O'Keefe


Les

Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 03/12/2013 02:40PM by les712.

Just information.. I had supper with Mitts a few times last summer in Billings. She is healthy, happy and fun to be around.

Mitts is on my facebook. I will continue to hound her into returning here. It will be a good reminder to me too; I want to buy her book.

Ps: Terry, I am glad you found the time; I know it isn‘t easy. Thanks for being here.

well wow, i am honored. thanks guys! and i am here to say twoten knows how to steal ladders. (and return them after he's made good use of them.)

i haven't read this poem (campfire moon) in a long time. some things in life come/go full circle.

thanks boo for hounding me.

I'll fess up about the ladder thing... A mechanic of mine and I were in Billings. Mitts had supper with us and hung around to watch the Bobsey Twins try to find their way around an airplane to do an inspection on it. We needed a tall ladder. The gas guys from the local fixed base operator had gone home.. I'd'a swore to that.. anyway, I amble over to their gas truck and take a tall ladder. They won't need it 'till morning. So back at our airplane I place the ladder, clumb up it, an' wuz layin' on the wing when we see the gas truck drive off. They go about five airplanes and two guys jump out. The get their hose out, the truck grounded to the airplane and go looking for a ladder. They ain't got one. I get done, and fold up their ladder and take it back to them. I appologize and they say, "That's all right, we just thought we were going nuts and wonderin' where we left it"

You‘re welcome, Mitts, anytime. Truth is, I need emule a lot right now and an emule populated by ghosts does me no darn good at all; so thank you!