Picking Blackberries

Picking Blackberries

A Poem by Emily B
"

sometimes we need to pay attention to the lessons

"

When I was young, my grandmother would tell me stories
about her grandparents.
There were stories about the origins of the universe.
Legends that connected me to my world.
Embedded in the stories were admonitions to live a worthy life.
Sometimes, when I walk out with my daughter to pick berries,
I think about those lessons . . .

Mama, we have to pick all the blackberries so the bugs don't get any . . .

There's plenty of berries for you, me, and the beetles, baby girl.

I don't like the beetles. See that one?

Where? Oh, look how beautiful and shiny his wings are. . . the beetle respects us. We should respect the beetle.

What about the birds? Do we have to share with them?

Plenty of berries for them, too.

But, why, mama?

Because our Mother tells us to share with others. Don't eat so many, there won't be any left in the bucket.

I only eat the ones I pick . . .

Alright, girl.

Mama. . . ?

Yes?

Do you want to pick blackberries alone now?

Are you wanting to go and play? Go on, then, baby girl.



© 2009 Emily B



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Featured Review

Our kids always do seem to find a polite, kind and gentle way of letting us know that they are a little bored with us, at times. for others, it may be a different experience entirely, but most of the children I have been around in my family will let an old man down easily...

Nice little sentiment here, Em...

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Our kids always do seem to find a polite, kind and gentle way of letting us know that they are a little bored with us, at times. for others, it may be a different experience entirely, but most of the children I have been around in my family will let an old man down easily...

Nice little sentiment here, Em...

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

It is such small moments that moral courage is created.. a fascinating look at the learning process of children. and mmmm blackberries. In cobbler. Warm from the oven. With ice cream. Everything good about childhood wrapped in one afternoon, methinks!

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Ah Emily you captured the innocence of a child so well in this piece; it seems that my eyes have forgotten how to see the world through unsullied eyes. But it appears that “Mama” knew how precious they are…

Great Write!
RLG,
Tommy


Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Yes! A perfect capture of an unforgettable moment. Loved the intro, also. Right on!

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I have shared this experience with my children, makes me think of autumn. We always make a pie with ours though it needs a lot of sweetening! I liked the way your relationship with your daughter came through in the poem, the questions, the conversation, the reflection at the beginning.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

reminds me of the times my father took all of us kids , out picking blackberries. one of the great memories, and this is wonderful as well.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Child indeed is the father of man. We progressively lose our intelligence along with our empathy as we grow older. There are priceless lessons to be learned here.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

The lightness and lessons to be learned from children...priceless. great writing.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Children have a knack of seeing things in the simplest and most unaffected manner... How well you capture that pretty encounter

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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1259 Views
26 Reviews
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Shelved in 3 Libraries
Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on August 20, 2009


Author

Emily B
Emily B

Richmond, KY



About
to the Lost Boys I am no Wendy; but my voice brings you back to me. And you sit around my feet, anxious for a story or a kiss. Listening to my words spinning adventures, like so much g.. more..

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