Barefoot Summer Poem by Pablo Cruise
Barefoot Summer
Do you remember the calls home from behind the screen?
When our days were full of anything
Skinny, brown, half clothed without their consent
Feet as black as slate
Can you hear their voices shout from beyond the fence?
A pre-pubertal wakeup call
Focusing long enough just to get outside,
To recommence that seasons game
Think of how far we use to go
With the wind whistling through our ears
Army canteens and surplus sacks
Two wheel caravans with no certain course
The cool of evening that itch of skin
We shivered with exuberance
Five more minutes to get it all in
Before that screen would close again
Do you remember those days from years ago?
Sense them from time to time
Does it bring on a sigh or maybe a smile?
Makes me want to take my shoes off
Your poem is enough to create the genuine air of olden days. I also felt like being with you.
Actually in reading just the first two lines I had an epiphany..what I read was one thing and my thoughts yet another....in those days my days were filled with nothing (no agendas, ...no plans) yet there were completely filled....do you no what I mean...a beautiful non-complicated world in youth yet never a minute boring...
I always admire a poem when the title is reaffirmed in the last line and it worked beautifully. The questions were also an excellent idea as they allowed the reader not only to visualize your imagery but theirs as well as they used their memory and their perceptions. Great work! Karin Anderson
Sigh... this was a real sentimental journey. Thank you for jogging my memory. Good work here Pablo. HG: -) xx
Good times are sweet times at later times to remember...good nostalgia
what a nostalgic write, makes one want to be young again. sensuous and refreshing. thanks Mamta
What nostalgia- so bringing back my young days with people now gone - thank you for the memories coming to mind - Well written....Cindy
Barefoot summers, oh how well I remember those days. The feel of the sidewalks cement coolness on my young little feet, dancing in the puddles left from mornings rain. Wish I never had to grow up! Great poem again. God Bless, Linda
It's like I've traveled through time, I can imagine everything that you had written... It sure inspires me to write more poems
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 5:19:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The joys of boyhood are captured in this nostalgic poem. superb write.