~ sweet, youthful years (in Houston ghettos)

Quatrains in 8-count, except for the penultimate line, which is 9.

~ sweet, youthful years

When we were children growing-up,

no puddle ever went un-stomped,

no stray was left without a home,

and morn' till dark we laughed 'n romped.

Lightnin' bugs blink soft in a jar,

butterflies pinned neat to a board;

held on by a clothespin, each cape ...

across skies, like Superman, soared.

No tree worth its climbing unclimbed,

from hick'ry twigs slingshots were made,

stung hard, Chinaberries, just right;

such memories never will fade.

Cardboard stands, nickel lemonade,

yards were cut for merely a buck.

Lost bottles were quickly redeemed,

Saturday morn movies, potluck!

Missing chain-guards, fenderless bikes

with handlebars turned upside-down.

Right pant's leg rolled-up, playing cards

on spokes, played a motorbike sound.

Keds for kids and patches on jeans,

sandlot football was the best game ...

played 'til we dropped, sleeping like logs,

ne'er again will times be the same.

When we were children, growing-up

we would say, "Yes, Ma'am and yes, Sir!"

got quiet when we were told to,

and dared not sass back, that's for sure.

Dad worked all day, Mom stayed at home,

made cookies, and kissed 'way our pain.

Doors never were locked, nor the cars;

if I could, I'd live it again.

Come on, you kids, shut down the screens;

they'll wait ... not so, innocent cares.

Enjoy being a child (while you can),

wasting no more ~ sweet, youthful years.

Richard W. Jenkins

©2016

Author's Note

"Our Gang!"
Thank you sincerely for reading this poem of my youth.

All critique and constructive suggestions are welcome! : )

Reviews

[GreenShoes]

Yes, kids today have a completely different childhood experience than we had. This poem was a wonderful trip down Memory Lane, and what a great photo that is up there! Is that you, in the middle? By the way, I've never been to Houston but I've heard great things.

[Richard🖌]

Karen,
How our youth sticks to us (eh), all the freedom and mischief we enjoyed in those sweet, innocent days.
The skinny kid with thumbs in his pocket looks just like me. ; ) Thank you for stepping back with me, Karen … it was lovely having you along.

Houston: When this picture was taken, there were no freeways here and the population was 350,000. Now, you can go hardly nowhere without traveling 12-lane freeways, and the numbers are in the 5.5 millions.
It is a far different city than the one I grew-up in, but it is true that there is so much here of interest, entertainment, culture, beauty,one could not do and see it all in a lifetime.

Hugs 'n blessings, Karen! ⁓ Richard : )

[Calamityofgin]

Awe...honey...am all warm fuzzy in tummy. This made me want to take my yearly venture into Harper Lees world and live again my precocious young self vicariously through Scout and remember unique and unforgetable friends like Dill....To be comforted by Atticus's gentle force...to read King bring a journey of eclectic scamp buddies morbid curiousity to life....singing songs of my youth...and tear off the rear end of a poor ol firefly and wear his glimmer a*s as a rare gem on my finger...(ooh that smell) and to go barefoot until indian summer fades to ineviteble chill.

My goodness! What a wonderful read....most charming and pricelessly familiar....thank you Sir Richard ...for the thoughts i will now enterain a while...a kiss darlin. 🌹

[Philip Muls]

Sweet innocence of our youth. You capture the wonder years in a great way. I enjoyed this.

I have a similar story which you might find recognizeable : Lovesick.

Regards, Philip

[Vatsal Rohilla (account..]

Ah! Dear Childhood. Maturity comes at a cost- and that is our childhood, which leaves us numerous happy memories which we can plunge into while flipping through the pages of our life. As children, we do not have any worries. We are naive and tend to enjoy each moment to the best. We laugh at small things, run around in the streets, jump in the puddles, play pranks- simply, we enjoy our lives. I like the rhyming and the vivid imagery that has been presented. This poem reminds me of this Hindi ghazal "Woh kaagaz ki qashti" (English- that paper boat). In this one too, childhood memories are thought over and are described beautifully. Though your poem is quite different from it.
A very good piece to read. I enjoyed the work throughout. Keep writing.

[Dave]

Richard
So beautifully you captured so many elements of my own childhood.
Oh the fun we had, to many to remember, so hard to forget even half.
Like you, I often wonder why we wanted to rush so quickly to adulthood.
Thank you for the reminder.
Dave

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

I just love this, Richard. Your memories, the picture, your wisdom all come together to remind me of times long gone. When we speak of them now, I suppose the younger generations feel as we did about hearing grandparents stories of party lines, milk wagons, alleys, and on and on. Time has moved on, and I wonder what they will tell their children of that will seem so long ago.

[LittleSoph]

Beautiful! What a nostalgic poem. Although I'm of the Y generation I found it very relatable and whimsical. I particularly liked the last few lines they hit home for me. I've only recently begun writing so I can't give any technical critique but I really loved it.

[Richard🖌]

Thank you, LS, for your praise and enjoyment of this poem … you've both rewarded and make me very happy. : )
Welcome to the site … I'll drop by to see you soon … brightest blessings! ⁓ Richard

[R.M.C]

I would also just like to add one more thing I like about your poem: you've expressed the decline in manners and trust over the years exceptionally well ('we would say, Yes, ma'am and yes, sir' and 'doors never locked, nor the cars' subtly bring to attention the stress in security these days and the lack of manners - this is only enforced by the line 'if I could, I'd live it again')...

[R.M.C]

Simply superb, Richard. You've picked (and described remarkably well) some very cherish-able memories of your youth - memories that we can relate to some of our own. Your use of cards in the spokes of your bike, for example, to make a motorbike sound, is something myself and my friends did when we were young, racing around the block (though we generally used coke cans placed atop the wheel touching the metal frame of the bike. Your last stanza is a great connection between your youth and modern childhoods - I'm afraid that many modern kids are too wrapped up in their Xbox's and Mobiles to go outside and play games such as football and tig. Above all, I love the fact that in your title, you've mentioned the ghettos, and yet in the poem, all you talk about are the happy times you had - it's a really effective statement, saying that your lives can be filled with laughter and smiles even if you don't have much money (in this day and age, many people see money as the only way to enjoy life, which is a true shame).
The only thing I can think to mention is that I think your 8th line is 9 syllables, not 8 (though I could be mistaken), but apart from that, there is nothing I can criticize Richard.

[barleygirl]

Even tho the reading isn't as smooth as the few poems of yours I've read so far, the message is far more memorable & endearing. You've managed to amass quite a collection of very specific memories here, stated with such details, anyone from "our era" would have to relate strongly & be filled with longing for those sweet youthful years. In your description of life in the ghettos, I notice there's nothing to suggest that anyone realized they were poor, which is exactly how it was for me growing up, too. We were so rich in imagination & energy & playfulness, never bombarded with media letting us know all the things we might've been lacking. Your word snapshot shows us this specialness of growing up when we did. I feel sorry for today's kids.

[Richard🖌]

Margie,
You're terrifically observant, understanding, and insightful — one to seldom get anything over on … I can surely tell!
On that note: Yes, we rarely considered that we were poor. We were so preoccupied with enjoying life, I suppose, it never dawned on us to consider it. In fact, the rare times it came-up, we looked at money and fancy, tawdy-dawty people and things as something pretentious and egotistic, and only to be showy-offie with. We had no interest in these kind of folk, and certainly never wanted to be like them.
LOL! Little could we perceive what life held in store for us as adults.
On the smoothness issue: I, too, feel it can be made to flow better, and the only knee-jerk explanation for why it isn't, is that most all of my pieces are derived from imagination and life observances, while this one is from reality. The difference? My ink was blended as much with fact, sentimental yearning, and emotion, as with skill.
But, you said all that, didn't you? : )
I, too, feel sorry for today's kids,that they will ever know what it's like to really be kids who enjoy life with their every fiber, emotion, and imaginative dreams.
Bless you your lovely heart, Dear Margie, and thank you warmly! ⁓ Richard

[barleygirl]

It just occurred to me, I don't even know if you have any kids or grandkids?!??! I myself have never been married or had kids, approaching age 60 soon . . .

[Richard🖌]

Margie,
Personal stuff, I'll share in a message.

[Richard🖌]

To be honest, Margie,
This is a bit of a wishful fantasy … especially, about Mom staying home. The real story is here:
"Streets of Houston" (in the ghetto)
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/RichardJ/1629865/

(it's long, though; so, if you don't read and/or review it, I'll certainly understand)