Picking collards
Selling them
For two dollars
A bushel
For Christmas money
The Dollar General
Would be the recipient
Of my hard earned greenbacks
My own lemonade stand
Experience
But again
Hard work
Meets red clay
Adolescence
was spent
Mired in mud
That found its way
Caked on
In places
Dirt should not
Be found
One with the land
I know it
All too well
Hello, I spend most of my young years playing outside. And I also worked on odd jobs to make some spending money. Enjoy your day and weekend!
ReplyDeleteI spent my youth playing in the frog pond!
ReplyDeleteLovely poems.
I played outside everyday when I was a kid! AND I love collard greens.
ReplyDeleteMine was picking berries. Stained fingers. I wish there had been dollar stores then. Just the five and dime!
ReplyDeleteLovely poetry of youth ~ it is all so fleeting ~ glad you have the memories ~ thanks for sharing ~ ^_^
ReplyDeleteHappy Moments to You,
A ShutterBug Explores,
aka (A Creative Harbor)
...and now I'm craving collards with chow chow. Have a great weekend.
ReplyDeletethis brought back memories. Snapping peas on the front porch in my little hometown in Kansas. Enjoyed your writing!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was about five years old we lived next to a farm that grew and sold strawberries...I always had red fingers and strawberry red lips because I was allowed as many as I wanted.
ReplyDeleteYour lovely words brought me back in time to 68 years ago...thank you 🍓
Oh this poem was visual I could totally see it my head. And to me that is the secret of great poetry. Good work!!
ReplyDeleteOh love this, thanks for posting!
Allie of
www.allienyc.com
Piękny wiersz. Pozdrawiam serdecznie.
ReplyDeleteNice views of red and green. Hugs-Erika
ReplyDeleteLoved the visual your words created.
ReplyDeleteI just learned to like kale last spring. I think collard greens is a green too many. I might try it with a big squirt of red ketchup. :)
ReplyDelete...oh how I remember red mud caked to my boots in Georgia.
ReplyDeleteOh after three weeks of the grandchildren staying I know all about those places where dirt should not be found 😉 Happy New year to you R, here's wishing you all the best for 2020 ✨
ReplyDeleteI love collard.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sweet and nice memory when you were growing.
How nice to reminisce on those young days of doing business. Yes, it was good experience
ReplyDeleteHank
I recall doing a lemon aide stand when I was kid.
ReplyDeleteoh the things we did as kids, some stick with us and some we would rather not anymore
ReplyDeleteI don't know what collards are but I've been seeing so many lemonade and cake stands around the neighbourhood lately raising money for the bushfire relief and I think it's a great way to let kids give back!
ReplyDeleteNice look back
ReplyDeleteMud? I'd rather not. ;)
ReplyDeleteestupendo! Todo lo mejor para este año!🎊🎉🎊🎉 Espero verte pronto por mi blog! 💓💓💓
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem.
ReplyDeleteSounds like simpler times.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I remember dirt for miles when I gardened (or tried to) as a child.
ReplyDeleteLove your style of poetry
Blessings
Maxine
A lovely poem … and look back.
ReplyDeleteAll the best Jan
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