Perhaps it was the I remember the bus stop by the brown field Empty no man's land between the houses with a couple of small How old was I in second or third grade? Nine years old I suppose Maybe eight houses down from ours maybe less It's all so hazy Those two small trees in that dry, strange, empty space unwanted, un They were simply there, not far apart from one another teasing me with their purposelessness, their purity Perhaps it was Sometimes, often even, I still want to do the wrong very wrong Things are so murky now What was I thinking all those years ago? Certainly as a boy all of my worst inclinations were un Fantasies consumed I had super powers Rules didn't apply to me Nobody new about my secret identities, but I wanted to brag to Be appreciated Life in my imagination was So exciting that I simply had to tell the other boys at the bus stop to convince them that I had access to other realms Supernatural control over the universe Certainly over a little tree near the bus stop Perhaps it I summoned demons from another dimension to burn that little tree little by little very early every morning, long before anyone normal awoke I would watch flames born of comics pages licking And when the lower branches began to blacken noticeably with burn marks I felt my secret Feigning innocence, but speaking excitedly about arson at the bus stop and the possibility of alternate dimensions full of fire demons All of the boys certainly mentioned the little tree's gradual, daily destruction at home, and I was too excited not to Perhaps I was so sure of my cleverness Speaking, feigning ignorance, innocence, un to my mother Something terrible and strange is happening there I said There's an arsonist, I suppose, all we know is that the little tree is being burned up slowly What should we do about this? What can we do about this? What can we do? What? So horrible Acting was not my super power, or perhaps my mother's super powers were stronger despite the vastness of my imagination She was awake long before anyone normal awoke waiting for me at the door to another dimension, the portal to powers and forbidden I stood there a fool, holding some comics pages and matches, feeling revealed, stupid, pathetic, un Oh... Oh... Oh. the thrill of it.
d’Verse open link night
For this ‘open link night’ at d’Verse, I’d like to share a free verse poem that I wrote last October. It’s based upon my memories of a true episode during my childhood when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.
63 thoughts on “Little game, or: Thrill me”
I love your story. I think we all have gone through similar at that age! Very well done.
Looks like your burning bush didn’t materialize!
yeah… it wasn’t spectacular at all – less burning and more charred than anything else, Dwight ❤
The disjointed and the choppy rhythm really struck me as that of an 8 or 9 year old boy trying to come to grips with a secret… and he knows that it is wrong. Ang yet the thrill draws him back again and again! Wonderfully composed!
That’s exactly what I was going for, Muri ❤
This was a enjoyable peek at your younger and carefree self. Yes, the thrills of those things.
Thanks, Grace; yeah… I had/have a very vivid imagination… and, apparently, so does my daughter… I often worry that she’s too much like me!
I like the way you have written this David…..
Thanks so much, Don! I feel like this one doesn’t really fit your humorous style so much – I’m glad you liked it 🙂
It was the way you wrote it I liked. Doesn’t have to be humourous…..
❤ Don ❤
So inspiring poem 👌🌷🙏 Happy Friday 🌹♥️
Thanks, you too 🙂
Oooo,you didn’t really,did you. I used to pretend I could fly by jumping out of trees with a sheet tied to my shoulder’s. Or this really super hero,furtively dreaming in my day dreams. I was 9, we left England in 1966,I was 12, and Aussie Land is a larger stage for the imagination in which I was still indulging, even then. I didn’t give thought to being the Super Arsonist, I knew too much about Bushfire, and my father’s strap.
Yes, I really did. I do have a dark streak in me that I still have to contain, even today 🙂
Oh yes, ‘acting was not my super power’ – how well our mothers know us! So well written David – bringing childhood memories to life.
🤎 Thank you, Marion! 🤎
Ah, the wild things that we did as kids. I enjoyed how you used your super powers to bring over demons from another dimension. And moms know us better than we realize 🙂
All entirely true, Dave ❤
I feel bad for the little tree, but I think, fortunately, mothers often do have super powers. 😀
Mine definitely did, Merril!
It’s nice to understand the name origin of your blog.
I felt transported to that ‘world between’ of childhood. It thrilled and slightly frightened me because I remember that universe so clearly. A well-written piece!
Thanks so much, Susan 🙂
I’m still in that universe, in a way….
I believe, we writers and artists, are those who never closed that portal. 😉
I like that, Susan. Thank you so much.
Wow..something very different from you or from anyone..I was very sympathetic to the tree, I must admit..but I too remember feeling I had super powers about that age..and in dreams I showed off to all my peers. that I could fly..just by tipping myself over backwards..I floated gentling to the ground. I guess when we begin to see the world as more overwhelming than we first thought.. is when we need our super powers to get us through those scary days. I enjoyed this David…I really admire your experimentation with poetic challenges too🤗
I still like to pretend that I have superpowers 😉
❤ Karima ❤
I still dream I have them..i guess that’s saying the same thing:) so me too❤️
🤗 Karima 🤗
Hi there Ben, this is a pleasingly original write, which I enjoyed very much. You conjure much here very effectively and with considerable deftness…. Look forward to more from you…
Thanks so much, Scott. That’s very kind of you.
Please feel free to call me by my first name, which is ‘David’. The word ‘ben’ means ‘son of’ in Hebrew… and my father’s name was ‘Alexander’; this blog was created in his memory.