Nostalgia Crept In Early

The worlds we fashioned

in Lego and Playmobil

were reigned over

by American kids

with monkey wrench hands

and Bruce Lee haircuts.

 

Action slotted neatly

into place; the swings,

steering wheels, bike handles

...and you, my sister,

were co-founder,

fellow God

for we shared the codes

of storylines

and personalities.

 

Our plots could have given

the soaps

a run for their money -

nobody had their own parents,

except the kid

with one leg

whose Wellington

you would suck on,

and we made him a farmer’s son

because of his boot;

equipped him

with Playmobil crutch.

 

Then there was Fitzgerald,

abbreviated to Fitz

because he had tantrums

[non-PC puns]

and Billy, who was the coolest

in a baseball jacket

and cap, although I favoured Simon

dressed all in plain black

and Carla, my cynical

female medium.

 

Yes, I can

recall their names

like registration

 

and the tree-house constructed

using the desk chair

as platform -

pulley system,

basket tied to red string.

 

I remember the exchange

of wide-eyed admiration

at Auntie Elaine’s

willingness to join us

beside the radiator,

and how a character

worthy of Austen

[based solely on hysteria]

was born �" I believe

 she wound up as

Billy’s mother (?) �"

our faithful anachronism.

 

 

I wonder if the heavens

were ever quite so shook

by divine thunderbolts

as was our plastic

alternative dimension

the day I had to tell you,

like Wendy

leaving the nursery,

that I was too old to play,

having turned twelve.

Our parents were mocking me

for pretending the

showerhead’s stream was

an exotic waterfall

 [a feat of imagination in

the stark white of

our old bathroom]

and the kids at school

kept telling me I had

a weird accent,

and I feared the embarrassment

whenever I brought home

a friend �" that you would not

allow me to deny

the share of toys

that were mine.

 

So I hit back

with the formal announcement

to my nine-year old playmate

that it was over,

the kingdom all yours

[even the Special Lego

with window shutters] �"

and you cried,

and said I was stupid

and sulked fiercely.

 

And in retrospect

 you were right �"

 the true test of maturity

would have been loyalty to pleasure,

not developing fake ceremony

to finalise sweet leisure.

 

 

It all changed after that.

 

You tried on

Independence, secrecy

and a tendency

to be scathing - found it

to your liking.

 

I guess it was a

counter-attack.

 

The mini-world was

closed to me,

like a theme park ride that

I was too tall for;

you resisted my attempts

to keep up-to-date with events,

resenting my presence

during games, and we grew apart

with even less in common

than before.

 

It remains thus;

closeness eludes us.

 

We’ve

experienced

our relationship

in reverse.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think, and any suggestions for improvement. Thanks.

Reviews

[Travis Lawrence]

Great poem. I always admire the ones that look back at the past. Ah, nostalgia.

Just read it a second time, and it's infinitely better when I know where it is going. You touch on quite a bit of truth in this, the story is captivating, and it is really, really well written. I wouldn't change hardly anything, except I don't like "auntie", personally I would just say "aunt" but hey it's not really important at all.

"the parents were mocking me
for pretending the
showerhead's stream was
an exotic waterfall
[a feat of imagination in
the stark white of
our old bathroom]"
-- I still do like to close my eyes and imagine my shower as a waterfall. That certainly is unfortunate that you were mocked for it.

"you tried on
independence,
secrecy and a tendency
to be scathing - found it
to your liking.
I guess it was a
counter-attack."
-- Best lines of the poem, you put her new-found outlook so well.

I can relate to her, for sure. This is going in my favorites.

-Travis

[W.k.kortas]

It is awfully full-speed-ahead, and yet it works here; this has a whole bunch of universal truths nicely expressed. It captures not only a time and place, but it's as insightful a look into sibling relationship as I've read in some time. A very solid piece of work.

[Damien Dsoul]

Very complex your poem is, though it tends towards an open narrative sort of feeling, the sort of work that's best appreciated when read aloud. It's full of juxtaposed imagery and witty humour all around.

[Zelligg]

Kinda weird but I was jotting just now on a piece about places beyond our senses, that swimming in infinity leading to a sound of reverse! I have so been where you take the reader here, with a dog friend too. The lifelong shame, irreversible from the succumbing to social clap-trap may be a very early fall from grace, in reverse. A lesson learned, but what for? Can't ever recover what's lost. More falls to come, try to keep up, stay unified from within. Write something!

[Monsieur L]

We all grow up, and as much as we try some times, we can't spend too much time on the things we used to like back then... It's a really nice piece, loved the smooth rhyming scheme, not always present, but present at the right times in the right places...
Thanks for sharing,
aLejanDro

[October]

This was really sort of sad.
It sounds a lot like,
When my brother told me
he wouldn't play with my Barbies anymore.
This poem is powerful.
Thanks for sharing.

[Spoken]

Wow, it starts off reminiscent of a wonderful carefree whimsical childhood and then transitions quickly to the fading of a childs innocence and playful ways, filled the reader with memories of their childhood then stripped them away just as quickly. I think this really makes the reader feel the sadness of this poem. I like how you've incorporated specific childrens toys into the writing; legos, playmobile, the swings (always being amongst the favorites of children) This really helps rekindle memories as I'm sure many people have had experiences with these toys in their childhood, being popular favorites. Very nice! Beautifully sad piece

[Andrew Dunham]

developing
fake ceremony
to finalise sweet leisure.

I like that bit. I always fought with my brother over everything. However, there were moments of lego-filled enthusiasm where I looked up to him for his skill with design and construction and his (vast) 2 more years of experience of the world. There is a sadness to growing up. As the years go by, I have become my father in many ways, and that is no bad thing. But I miss the sweetness of childhood and the long days of nothing to do. Rather a melancholy poem, C, but nonetheless riveting and poignant.

[Bubo]

This is such a deep, tragic piece really, of a relationship that never recovered childhood.........there are just to many profound words for me to choose any one line, because all shouted of your feelings, the emotions and finally the distance that is now between you............I have a younger sister, and we went through some pretty awful times, we are not close either, but i wonder if the
past has made it this way for us too...............you really are one of my fave writers and should be published, such a relatable piece .

[Emily B]

I love the reference to the Wendy having to grow up and leave the nursery. You played some wonderful childhood games. So creative. I can remember playing Barbies and house much longer than I probably should have. And that the only way I could get my brother to join in was to let him drive the Barbies in his jeep. Pity you lost touch after leaving Neverland.