Saturday, March 13, 2010

Nets of Safety


grow in nets of safety.

Cocooned in wired homes,

Lost the need,

To fight and bleed,

For rights a child owns


grew in those nests of safety

Danger never seen.

We swung the bat,

To kill a rat,

And balanced on the beam, that

That stretched across,

The russet barn,

Its floor a rotten mess,

Hide and seek, reality,

Left us with a guess,

of who was up the apple tree.

Its branches kiddling scored.

With broken limbs collected,

from children who weren’t bored.



Yodood said...

You captured something here. I can't put my minds finger on it Ú the rhythm, the oblivious safety of innocence — not sure what, but I love it.

Anonymous said...

I only just realised you were here again. I have been busy as well so there.. I really like this by the way. I have been continuing writing a bit myself as well. Glad you are ok..

Helen + ilana = Hi said...

At last you're really back!

Unknown said...

Thanks, Yodood - no hidden meaning here. I was just commenting on the fact that the young things of today are wrapped in cotton wool and never take any tree expeditions!

Hello, thedog, I have been lurkin for a while but getting back into noveling sort of led to me blog again!

Hi, Hi, I think I am back therefore I am!

mac said...


We were more adventurous, weren't we?
I think we were more innocent, too. In spite of all our coddling, our children have grown up much faster.
Go figure?

Unknown said...

Mac, I went out at 9am and came back when I was hungry (not much change into adulthood!). Mum and Dad never knew where I was and could only guess by the injuries I sustained. The apple tree and the rotten barn were my favourite (banned) haunts.

mac said...

I have a kid sister that came along 12 years after I did. I tried to teach her how to do things. Tried!

I told her that we didn't ask, we just did. We stayed out until we wanted, ran around all day, and basically whatever we wanted to do. She always had to ask for Mom's permission.

As if she would ever say yes. Some of that shit was dangerous!

Unknown said...

I confessed to my dad when he was dying that I used to play on the swing. He asked what was wrong with that?
"The swing hung over the local quarry".

Wanderlust Scarlett said...

Oh for those days... I'd forgotten about them. Thank you for a stroll down a shaded and hidden path that I once knew.


Scarlett & Viaggiatore