The Ides of Winter

 

 

Our days lit by constant sunshine

strength in numbers was our design

In hand me downs we ran through town

with baseball bat and ball of twine

 

By golden skies and rustled tree

for reasons yet unknown to me

My eyes were keen to beauty seen

this soul my own as I was free

 

When Ides of Winter come to be

oh times when lives were all carefree

Follow my track all the way back

to friends who meant so much to me

 

)

Author's Note

Oh the taste of youth .How sweet it was to jump from bed, everyday in the constant summer of my memories

Reviews

[Dinesh Sairam]

WOW.. Awesome!

"Then we aged the world took over"

^ Amazing how you shift the pulse and meaning of the poem with just one line!

"When Ides of Winter come to be
oh times when lives were all carefree
Follow my track all the way back
to friends who meant so much to me"

Got me nostalgic there :( Perfect write brother! :) Keep writing.

[Tommy]

I truly love this poem! How would it be to view the world with such freshness again?
That pic was taken not far from my house. The movie was filmed in Utah. I played on that baseball field as a kid; Now it is a amphitheater. This made the theme so more real for me.

RLG,
Tommy

[Nyida Strong]

That was my childhood, long gone now. I'm far too jaded these days. Thank you for this reminder of who I used to be.

N. Strong

[Carolina Kel]

I enjoyed this, especially the Sandlot pic at the beginning. It helped set the right tone, especially since at the end of the movie they tell where everyone is as a grownup. I think this is relatable, even if you never ran around with a baseball bat. :)
Good job.

[Norma M Sutton]

Excellent! I love the first and last stanza's the best.

[The Analog Kid]

The summer was so amazing then! Nice.

[Tina Kline]

As people grow older they look back and only remember the good times, how great those days were. This is a nice poem about that.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

That's so true.. youth .. vitality.. but those memories never age.
A bit sad but this is how it is ... or the alternative. I prefer getting older ... I have someone who depends on me and calls me mommy.

Beautiful poem, melancholy meandering through a summer breeze.

Chloe

[Sarah J. Kelleher]

I think the beginning of it reminds me of The Sandlot! ^.^ It's like the aging process of those kids, that's what I'm seeing. It's a little sad, actually.

[Charles]

This is a good one, as usual. The only thing that bothers me is the switching between first and third persons (me/my to we/our). I'd think the poem would be tighter if the voice were the same stanza to stanza (I recognize the meaning of the shift, just find it a bit of a distraction). :-)