Kids! Kids! Kids! Poem by Efren Petalver Carranza

The Next Generation

A gust of wind that followed her brought me the scent of her shampoo, or it could have been her body lotion that turns me into a bulldog snipping for his prey. Too quiet, not even his tail wags, but his eyes are twirling, not knowing when he would attack. And yet he remained steady to be tamed or petted.

She stood about a foot from the bedside with a towel snuggly wrapping her body until it became like bone to a bulldog when she fetched and landing it on to my face. I had a minor glance to her perfect-inflated-balloons but her red Victoria Secret stayed well-fitted below.

I rise and growl but before I could stand up, she jumped right on top of my fully clothed body and starts skinning my tee-shirt out like a crispy piece of white paper turning it into two, three, and now four rags. She shushed my lips with her painted claws in blood nail polish leading my mind clueless to her game plan. Or if there were any game plans she intended to play, yet all I know I am obediently following her directions, for she is now my master.

My free hands hold back in uncertainty of her by blindfolding my eyes with a rag as I lay submissively turning in to her prey in the jungle of darkness. Yes, in the jungle of darkness, for I am now blindfolded, imagining the drapes closed at 3: 00 on Saturday afternoon. And the money tree at one corner of her bedroom matches with the leafy designs of the drapes while a vine creeps upward around the ceiling. On the same corner, a light hangs like a burning full moon with glittering stars like eyelets peeking from the wall.
Everything is quiet midnight in the boondocks -as we begun learning and understanding each other only by the movements of our hands. Still blindfolded, her hair is teasing my chest as her lips begin to search for my weakest spot. She nibbled it shortly though I desire it rigid and longer, but her hands commanded me to stay.
The tiger is still in his cage wanting to get out for that fresh meat, yet it would be foolish for him to disobey his master's command. And the hungrier he becomes the madder he goes up and down in his cage.

I could sense the gust of her hands passing by hair as she begins to unfold my eyes. Her fully unclothed body is now exposed right into my blurring vision and once again I saw that beauty I have fallen in love a year ago.

The difference between the past days to this day is trust and preservation of our virginity. But today is the day that we are indulging the loveliness of being in love. Love as we promise in churches and on trees where our vows and names were written. And today we become Tarzan and Jane playing on full-sheeted-Seally mattress of avocado satin.

I counseled tiger to protect his identity and masked him well enough to enter into the kingdom of 7th heaven so when he reaches that place to become extravagant he will not to be blamed for something he will then regret. But Jane timidly unmasked tiger for she begged vigorously to own this tiger's generation regardless of the outcome of this love hereafter.

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Our two lovely sons are the angels of our marriage, the jewels of our relationship, and God's most precious gift. I love my children more than anything else in the world.

For many parents, raising a child or children is a big challenge and responsibility. As member of eight children in the family, I know now how difficult my father had been through, especially when my mother died at early age. I also feel now his frustrations then, when my younger brother and I constantly fight each other, for which I am going through the same experience with my two sons. The only difference back then was that kids get whipped by stick or belt and not just a time out or grounded. I am hoping though in years ahead, as my two sons grow older, they will realize what brotherhood means: The kind of relationship me and my brother Dante, who has been out to seas during and after he retired in the Navy. We do miss each other, and once in a great while, we spend our time together when he visits me.

But as we grew older, married, and have family, we tend to separate, have less communication, and became distant from our siblings, like a tree - it branches and spreads out its twigs farther and farther. Then our generations become wider and apart, not knowing their blood relationship, genes, and ancestors as well

Related poems: The Roots of Thomas Carranza