Blooming Early or Late?
This tyro of six years reads hardly a word.
The idea of language displayed on a screen
or printed on paper strikes him as absurd—
no matter for minds like his, agile and keen.
It’s stuff—string and tape, stacks of cardboard and paper—
he much prefers, and with good reason; for when
he dreams up his newest astonishing caper,
he’s on it more quickly than you can count ten.
He may not leave all budding chemists behind,
or translate the Iliad before he’s thirteen;
the messes he makes rankle, for he’s inclined
to squawk when he’s called on to pick up and clean,
but I do anticipate wonders indeed
the day he decides it’s worth learning to read.
Packaging and Contents
Oh, wrapping! is it any wonder
that you soon will be in shreds
on the morning when the thunder
of small feet that from their beds
speed their way toward waiting treasure
breaks the silence of the night,
last the longing child must measure
ere the dawn of wild delight?
You ribbon, strewn upon the floor—
did you know there’d come a day
when your binding role no more
mattered—you’d be fire’s prey?
Toys and finery everywhere,
feast for eyes and threat to feet
strewn on carpet, draped on chair—
Christmas blest, if not so neat.
Julian D. Woodruff writes poetry and short fiction for children and adults. He recently finished 2020-2021, a poetry collection. A selection of his work can be read at Parody Poetry, Lighten Up Online, Carmina Magazine, and Reedsy.
Julian, your sentence structure and length is becoming legendary as you have a unique facility for continuing a thought while still being able to make it all rhyme. Obviously, I enjoyed reading both of our poems about a kid that prefers everything to reading and the paper trash and toys strewn about on Christmas. The first one affected me personally, since I hated to read books and the notes on music while my mother was trying to teach me to play the piano. It turned out I had amblyopia and had a difficult time see the print and notes. Glasses took care of that.
Your right, Roy–English teachers, and others as well, were telling me to simplify as early as junior hs. Sometimes I managed to do so; other times I’m building constructions like “As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly …”–although usually not that vivid. Charlie is beginning to take an interest in stories (maybe when he’s told that the supply of construction materials has temporarily dried up). Thanks for reading & commenting.
Two very nice snapshots of childhood! Thank you for sharing with us.
Two very nice snapshots of childhood! Thank you for sharing them with us.
Hmm, Julian, it’ll be interesting to see what the young tyro may be able to create from messy masses of discarded paper and ribbon and bags and boxes on Christmas afternoon. Maybe he will take interest in a book, if an appealing one happens to be among his new treasures. A fine final line clears up the scene in both these poems of yours.
Oh, Margaret! Charlie’s activities may be curtailed: there may be as many as 20 to dinner at his place for Christmas this year, in a house not nearly big enough for him, 4 siblings, & his parents. The book I had in mind for him, if it’s still available, is Gorey’s The Dwindling Party, a rhyming classic if there ever was one.
Best wishes to you for Christmas & all the other feast days you will be celebrating in the next month.
Thank you for the kind words, Marguerite. I do sometimes wish that the Christmas am chaos were truly a snapshot that I could simply file away or toss & then go back to my hot chocolate.
I love the realization you portray in “Blooming” — what language really is — as well as the stoicism that lets time take its course. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a poem about wrapping paper. You show us its virtues, why we appreciate it, even if its only role is to be ripped and discarded.
Two pieces that to me are redolent of nostalgia – a primary school friend who was better with his hands than with words and numbers, and my mother’s OCD when it came to Xmas wrapping paper strewn around the living room.
I loved the idea of Xmas wrapping paper being the topic of a poem, Julian. Some of the phrases and imagery are sparkling.