How they haunt me still
like playmates’ naughty taunts.
The old church bell
the lilacs’ smell,
the lilting daffodils.
Narrow, cobbled streets,
sidewalk market stalls;
old crones bleating sales
down at Fanueil Hall;
Fish for sale along the harbor’s
rim dead eyes staring,
sorrowful and grim.
Garlic and spaghetti
and East Side corner gangs;
weddings and confetti
and ancient streetcars clang.
Ivy-covered walls
and painted leaves in fall;
ghetto street kids playing
kick the can; old Italian vendors
touting crabs and clams.
Windows full of mothers
staring at the view;
a house chock-full of brothers,
drinking home-made brew.
Memories of childhood,
how they haunt me still,
And though I ponder all life long
I guess they always will.
took me back to my childhood days, nice use of discriptive words, Alicia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Alicia. This was like opening a window and looking back into a time that has almost vanished with the march of progress. I could visualize, taste the aromas and hear the sound. What a beautiful treasure to share with all of us. When I finished reading this I opened the window again and went back to my own childhood. Marvelous writing, everything I enjoy about good poetry. Thanks for sharing it. David