Tag Archives: childhood

The Work Of A Child

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.
My fragile
Ladder
Built
So many
Years ago
To help
Me reach
More than
I was able
I’ve saved
The work
Of a child
A weathered
Reminder
That even my
Youngest son
Has now
Grown tall
Easily
Reaching
Attaining
What I
Cannot
He was
Once small
My little boy
Of six
Even then
Striving
To help
Me be stronger
And stretch
Higher
Than it
Seemed ever
I would be able
.
.
Bear … 03.21.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015

Child constructed ladder. Hanging here for many years. ⓒBearspawprint2014

‘ Child constructed ladder. Hanging here for many years. ⓒBearspawprint2014

Recently some rearranging was done, and the ladder, that Roy made, when he was about six, was moved.  It seems my regard is all that was holding it together.  Fortunately, I took this photo last year.  If I had been warned of the changes to be made, I would have moved it myself, but I was too late.   The symbolic value I see was not visible to another.  I have other mementos of my boys growing, and some others have also been sadly lost. I wish it were possible to preserve some of childhood, but  only the feelings and what has been learned can be carried forward.

Bear … 03.21.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015
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Just Under Mind

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Detours through Gwa Gwa take one just under
Mind from Maya are confusing when you’re new
Dimensions and reflections seem mysterious
The sign posts most peculiar and very few
.
Though residents don’t live there they do come
And go swarms of hopping people looking fleas
Fatigue and pain and sorrow are unremembered illusion
For soothing comfort one never needs beg or say please
.
Cycling through lost polar time manic blinking
Away seasons and hours pain multiple insane
There is glory music to accompany curving space
The upward wonder crescendo that doesn’t wane
.
When I traveled most in Gwa Gwa’s realms
Of course I actually dwelled in my Mother’s home
But detours over Gwa Gwa horizons allowed
My soul to dance flying in dreams I could roam
.
I was much blessed to be able to stay awakened
Awareness securely anchored behind Hell’s threshold
While innocent childish spirit wandered Gwa Gwa free
I loved my human demon keepers bought bought and resold
.
.
Bear … 03.11.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint

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Find Me

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.
Personal stories
Each one unique
.
Lost in the crowd
A child cries aloud
.
Mama Mama
Find me Find me
Mama Mama
Find me Find me
.
Childish cries
Alone and so lost
.
Personal stories
Alone each cry
.
Each cry personal
Unique and alone
.
Lost childhood stories
Mama Mama
.
Find me Find me
I’m crying all alone.
.
Mama Mama
I’m lost all alone
.
Mama Mama
Find me Find me
Mama Mama
Find me Find me
.
.
Bear 02.05.2014

ⓒ Bearspawprint
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ASHES

* 
Daemon Monsters Of Childhood
*
Cremated,
Burned to ashes,
Disbursed,
It seems they should be gone.
*
Yet the Daemons and their
Makers are forever merged as One.
No difference the impetus
And doing, origin and end.
*
It is vile petty People,
Foolish, nasty, and weak,
Who call their craven weakness
A minor  human error, and
Each horrid indiscretion
A simple mistake.
*
Humans and their
Monstrous Daemons
Are entangled in their lies,
And by acts of satisfying sin
Force the children’s cries.
*
The Monster Making Daemons,
Are living on in all Dread.
*
Self perpetuating,
Forever replicating,
I see the Daemon Monsters 
All around in all Fear.
I see your fear within me
And mine within you.
*
These Childhood
Daemon Monsters
are the same evil core
That lives in mayhem
Strife, torment,
Greed, abuse
And the Daemon Father Monster
War.
*
Bear  11.29.2013
*
*

Friday Visitors To Start The Weekend

While Dear Husband took a mini-vacation two of my Grandchildren spent the night with me.

Roy didn’t get to go to the beaches in Pensacola, either, as he needed to register for classes for the
fall semester. He’s having to competitively register in order to take sequential courses sequentially.
The process doesn’t seem to be any more streamlined than in the olden days.

But I had lots and lots of fun with these  little ones.

The Star Song of Childhood

“Sharon!!  Would you PLEASE STOP banging on

that piano and SCREAMING!!!”  That was my Mother’s

response to my early musical aspirations.  Grandmother

sighed with relief as my rehearsal was interrupted. 

No one seemed to realize that all I needed was a better

composition.  Something more grand to showcase the

richness, the range, the magnificence of my coloratura. 

 

Piano as percussion is something that four year olds understand. 

I could hear the thunder of the tympani,  the sweet agony of the

violins, and I was doing quite nicely, thank you, at representing

the swell of the choral voice.  Why couldn’t any one else hear the

grandeur?

 

What a bother to be so misunderstood.  I had to acquiesce

to people who could not even hear the glory of the Stars sing. 

Not even at dusk as the Evening Star rose with her solo as all else

fell silent.  I would hear the sweet Star Song.   And as darkness

allowed all of the other Stars to voice a prelude to their

appearance in the night sky. “Sharon!!!  Close that door!!

You’re letting the mosquitoes in!!!”

 

Bear

ⓒ Bearspawprint 2013