Childhood Time-lapse
A poem from beginning to end
Preface: I moved away from Washington when I was 10 years old and resided in four other locations before returning at age 29. This situation combined with my emotional attachment to the following quote laid the foundation for my poem of experiencing the childhood I never had.
“We laughed and laughed, together and separately, out loud and silently, we were determined to ignore whatever needed to be ignored, to build a new world from nothing if nothing in our world could be salvaged, it was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn't think about my life at all.” --Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
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Childhood Time-lapse
I’ve always admired nostalgic notions in movies, songs, or plays…
not because I related
youthful tingles seemed much less stone jaded
I simply appreciated those idealistic ways.
I was never bitter about choice or direction,
Always overly curious, at a revolving intersection
1 out of 4 ways must mold the clay of my yellow brick words I lay so seriously mysterious:
Missing out on a wonderland of past troubles,
similar enlightenment, pieces of enchantment, life in a bubble?
It wasn’t Deja vu on this timeless day
Everything sworn to make sense of it in some way.
“A day during which I lived my life and didn’t think about my life at all.“
Quoting another’s words,
sharing knowledge can be a dangerous thing
Hope can spread painted wildfires with more envy than a patriotic, “freedom ring!”
I think I’ll vow to be that kind of person
yet planning to not try only caused it to worsen.
More to be proud of her
She could have died in there
Overtime—steady, slow—mountain fine— rhyme, regrow
Wtf is yolo?
explore solo unknown as disguised weird loner.
I kept joking we were 12 years of age
on a spontaneous Munchies Mondaze
An emerald euphoria painted memory hills
Not in Kansas—Wizard of Oz shrills
Getting nowhere fast, making moments last
Acknowledging no travel wasted
but a full flavored plate tasted.
It could have been my black Adidas or hiding our massive consumption,
following my ghostly childhood into the forest
or not hiding behind such a surreal reintroduction
But it seemed to be still and moving and it was lagom.*
Not having to choose one or the other
Stray from home, wander the world, backwards runner
classic brainwash misconception spoof
don’t worry, it’s only standard post travel blues.
Time mended, mind bending
conversations about nothing in a common language
but with a flow of old souls playing whatever role with extra baggage.
Kyle transformed into Vince Vaughn for a bit
unaware of Robbie, real life, or how to quit
uncanny at channeling pure talent and dreams
blowing my mind into laughing realms to unwind
A day in the life of this wild child
My adolescent playground map laid out
no longer outcast in exile
But suddenly, here—home,
where x marks old, x marks new and x marks maybe for a while.
In movie time,
no one remembered their lines
no one remembered their lives.
*lagom: a Swedish word meaning not too little, not too much, just right.
About the Creator
Vonawesome
Does poetry
Yearn for a
Love of their own
According to the
Nature of one’s life?
☻🙃☻
xxx --DV
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