Pop!

[Delta40]

I never showed him
How to blow
his own bubbles
And he cursed me
When I found
Crushing autumn leaves
Meant so much
More than winning
On the pokies
As jackpots exploded
In his hands
I watched every bubble burst
When it finally poured down
I thought about
The old red roundabout
And starting over again
From the beginning
This time
I sat perfectly still
And watched the world
Go round instead

[AuntShecky]

Re: popping. This is what I thought of after reading your poem: Whenever a woman receives a bouquet of snapdragons, she can't resist the urge to "pop" the puffy parts of the blossoms. Same thing with a certain species of seawood found off the coast of northern New England (not this week, though, after it was blasted with a horrible, hurricane-like Nor'easter which brought three feet of snow.)

And any time a child --or an adult male --finds himself with a bit of bubble wrap, he can't leave it alone. I think the reason is that we humans crave opportunities to use our tactile senses. Hence, the experience of crushing autumn leaves under our feet (as in your poem) -- or punching through a thin layer of ice on the sidewalk (which we can do in my frozen
neck of the woods.)

In your poem we have the image of blowing bubbles (soap bubbles or bubble gum?) What are "pokies"? Same as ponies that we bet on, with the chance of winning a jackpot? What is "the old red robin"?

Despite these questions, this -- and every one of your postings -- thrills me.

Auntie

[Delta40]

9502

9503


Hope this helps. Thanks for your review.

[AuntShecky]

9502

9503


Hope this helps. Thanks for your review.

Neither of these would load. Must be beyond the capability of my 12-yr-old computer, named "Pong 3.0." I do like your poem, just the same.