02 Apr 10
2 edits
Originally posted by wormwood"One Raspberry Ornament"
true, I never believed any of that crap. well, actually I did belive in santa the first christmas, having no reason not to. the guy was there, standing before me, and he brought the stuff. but the second christmas it was a different guy (my cousin), and that was the end of that.
"One Raspberry Ornament: Short story in verse about one boy’s Christmas Time
in New England, sort of long ago, when snow was snow and our sturdy snow
forts lasted almost until spring and when each day seemed like a year and, now,
those years less than a day and every day was (and still is) Christmas.
………………………
Chapter One… McCarthy Street
"Yes, I still hear distant sleigh bells at the festive season
when evergreens wear tinsel and bayberry candles glow,
and still glimpse the long signature of thin runner tracks
inscribed again, by moonlight, upon the glistening snow.
Only one fragile raspberry colored tree ornament
survived the sniper action whimsies of our childhood.
Dart guns were the preferred weapons of choice,
suction tips removed with care. Our aim was good.
Each December that selfsame decoration seems to appear
by a McCarthy Street front window, now so far away,
across from Varjian’s house and Patty Bevalaqua’s,
next to cheerful Mrs. Johnson and crabby old lady Gray.
That she was strident and mean spirited and hated boys
and kept their footballs there was never any doubt.
There used to be an overhead light bulb on her porch
until a BB shot through some cellar window took it out.
Mr. Varjian once had a big barn, until a mysterious fire
broke out suddenly one cold November afternoon.
Someone had urged his son to light a matchbook in
the upstairs chicken coop to keep warm, then soon
fire trucks arrived. Bloated hoses like snakes and people
were everywhere. The old barn just blazed and blazed.
Wedged in saplings, near a dump, a safe distance away
we marveled at all of the excitement, quite amazed.
Sure, we felt a few pangs of something between guilt
and accomplishment and fear. It was a terrible thing.
Party line was that we all tried our best to stop David.
No problems but we didn’t see him again until spring.
That winter we were not invited over, as usual, to watch
The Lone Ranger on their television, Saturdays, 6:00 pm.
Dad’s used 5” screen deal with Mr. Eckerly was cut later,
so we toughed it out. Dave couldn’t see us, nor we him.
Chapter Two… Grandma Came
"Then as it happened Grandma came to live with us one fine day... "
Note: One of Five... Christmas, 2008, Boston Lad
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03 Apr 10
Originally posted by Grampy Bobbynice cure for insomnia.
[b]"One Raspberry Ornament"
"One Raspberry Ornament: Short story in verse about one boy’s Christmas Time
in New England, sort of long ago, when snow was snow and our sturdy snow
forts lasted almost until spring and when each day seemed like a year and, now,
those years less than a day and every day was (and still is) Christmas.
...[text shortened]... ristmas, 2008, Boston Lad
.........................................................[/b]
04 Jun 10
Originally posted by karoly aczelThat's not weird at all. Like if you called them by the first names the press might get hold of it or something.
"Holy Karoly."
i call my young children "bubbles" when calling them in public to protect their anonymity. I also call animals "bubbles"
Perhaps your children ARE animals, most i see are not far from it.