Charing Cross Road, 1937 ~ Wolfgang Suschitzky
adorable at nine
enchanting at ten
stomping my way through puddles
befuddled at thirteen
shoulders hunched against the rain
adorable at nine
splashing my way through life
inhibition nowhere to be found
stomping my way through puddles
laughing at whatever .. wherever
unstoppable at eleven
cloudbursts .. mere child's play
i shrieked .. bring 'em on
fuming at twelve
galoshes .. the indignity
the injustice of it all
shoulders hunched against the rain
i longed .. to be nine again
You have given words to my feelings.
ReplyDeleteLove this! Keep going through all the years ahead...
ReplyDeleteoh yes! The horror of teen years! Now hand over your rain boots let's go barefoot!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed growing along with you, but you stopped short didn't you? Lol! Hard to tell the different whether it be rain or tears on these types of days. Love that hair and enjoy your week Helen!
ReplyDeleteYou nailed it...you sounded very headstrong and I was, too!
ReplyDeleteJane x
Wonderful circle of ages. Perfect imagery.
ReplyDeleteNice piece
ReplyDeleteExcellent....threading your tale through the rainy landscapes.
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteLovely poem and yes, life often makes us go in circles, back to splashing those puddles again and avoiding other things... But we must master whatever comes our way!
Sending you hugs and best wishes for a healthy and happy 2016!
Feel blessed for being out of bed today and making my rounds. The coughing will eventually stop too...
Mariette
oh, this is perfect. yes...nine. wow. my daughter is nine, i am envious the innocence! lovey words!
ReplyDeletestacy
http://warningthestars.blogspot.com/
Oh I would love to withstand the rain with glee... nine is a perfect age I think..
ReplyDeleteThis is a lovely examination of kid angst. Well done. :-)
ReplyDeleteDevelopment is most rapid in the teen years, so they say. Perhaps too rapid that teens are easily confused. Incisive write Helen!
ReplyDeleteHank
beautifully said!
ReplyDeleteTraveling through all those puddles in youth. I still like to walk in the rain it can be refreshing. Of course not when I am trying to get to work!
ReplyDeleteLove this journey of your years in raindrops Helen. Hope all is well with you these days. Happy New Year!
ReplyDeleteDon't we all long for a different era and age. Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteYes ... nine was such a perfect age ... I like how you walk us through this growing up period - delightful and insightful too. Bastet
ReplyDeleteSuch wonderful emotional images! Love the way you go from open-hearted to less so & highlight both the joy and it's (hopefully temporary) loss.
ReplyDeleteThe "I was" was a mess. I'd liked to have known her, she could have splashed with me. Our granddaughter has the privilege now of walking of having one or both of us walking to school with her. She splashed yesterday, she 'is' six.
ReplyDeleteA very fun reading poem, Helen. Thank you.
..
Oh yeah. This is a good one.
ReplyDelete=)
Love this poem...it really has caught the feeling of the prompt and also took me back to the joy of splashing in winters puddles!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and nostalgic, darling!
ReplyDeleteLove it, and the pic is perfect :)
xoxox,
CC
I loved running in the rain. It made me feel like a deer, light on its feet running through the woods. I don't run anymore, I hardly walk, have to use my cane for balance.
ReplyDelete..
shoulders hunched against the rain
ReplyDeletelonging .. to be nine again
A second comment again Helen, Ma'am, after so many years. Come to think of it as a passing fancy! One tends to think things can be better or different when an inconvenience intrudes! Happens many times to me too!
Hank
Time does change everything- the way we look at things and at ourselves. Well said.
ReplyDeleteOh love it You and the poem bursting with positive energy. Love the circle
ReplyDeleteHa, once we get over the teens, those childhood pleasures stay with us! Yes, this gave me a lot of pleasure to read.
ReplyDeleteOh for that innocence and freedom. I love the puddle as a setting. I do think we come back to that freedom of not caring what people think when we are older.
ReplyDeleteThat was me Colleen
ReplyDeleteI can feel the pleasure. Also, the nostalgia. Or, perhaps, I'm the one who's missing 9-year-old me terribly. Maybe I can have a talk with her when it rains again...
ReplyDeleteThis was a delight to read, Helen. I remember all those times so well.
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