bubbles day

a poem about the birth of my pen name and a charity event

 

To day is the birthday of my name

My alias

Mp pen name

The name the people most dear to me use

 

It has been a year.

 

 

I was on another camp

My second

There for the kids

Give them what i once desperately needed

Let them enjoy what i missed

Keep them safe

 

Make them smile

Even if only for a week

 

The first day

All us volunteers, sitting, waiting

Looking round that corner

Excitement, joy, anticipation

The experienced comforting the new

While almost clueless themselvs.

 

The old broken bus turns the corner

We rush to the gate

Welcoming those we have all come to help

Not knowing what they are like

Which are funny

Which are angry, sad or hurt

 

The buss slowly makes its way threw the gate

We peer threw the windows

There they are

Fresh from whatever hell they call home

Whatever abuse they call family

From there grief and unhappiness

It does not matter now.

 

They are safe

They can be kids

They can run and play

Scream and shoat

Nothing to fear

 

They walk of the buss.

Clutching there bags

Unsure of there environment.

For some, there first time away

Others insecure about there new environment

If only they knew the fun they can have, the freedom to be kids

Others confident, strong

Some have been here before

Meeting there old friends once again.

 

This is where my name was created

Where this side of me was born

All volunteers get a nickname sooner or later

The kids were all happy

All chatting about the fun they have had

Exited about the next time they will play

One smiling kid

His bright smile and happy eyes.

Called me bubbles for the first time

'Bubbles the fish'

Exited and cheery, smiling

 

I knew I had made that smile

I knew it was me who had created the happiness in that face

I knew he would remember

And id never forget

 

Might not remember me

Might not remember my face, my name, my words

But he would remember bubbles

Bubbles had made that child smile.

 

I am bubbles, and proud of it

 

They climb back on the buss

Some eager to get home

Missing there family and friends

Others almost crying

Wonting to stay.

Desperate to stay where they can be kids

They all enjoyed it.

smiling

Smiling moor than they might at home

Moor than they might have ever smiled before

They will remember us

 

As they drive into the distance we remember,

We remember what they might go home to

That they leave here back to there cruel world

 

But over all that we remember

we made a difference

For a short time

All those children smiled

And we know

We did that

There is nothing as special as a Childs smile

 

We smile

 

Then we feel our pain

The long nights, early mornings

The constant sheared of energy

We are knackered

depleted

But we still smile

And never regret

 

There is nothing better than a child’s smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

i know there is something missing but i cant put my finger on it. help anyone

Reviews

[bubbles]

that's it!!! manda thank u. i have been raking my brains trying to work out what was wrong with it.

[Manda]

its very good but i think you need to connect with the audience more. i couldnt quite feel or picture what you were writing. its very nicely written.

[Ama May Cooper]

I think its the flow.. its a good piece but reading it thru tiem after time again trying to put my finger on nit i feel theres some sort of emotional disconnection in it.. like its a image lacking its colour unfilled in with the power .. i dont kno