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Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)


A Golden Memory


When I was a young child
about five to seven years of age.
I noticed the neighbour's trees
were dirty and sooty and black.
Black with smoke chimney coal dust.

The bark was ugly dirty and black
the leaves were ugly dirty and black.
And barely green if at all in most places,
except a little on the side facing the sun.
The sun I saw as a beautiful yellow light.

Next to my father's garage grew these trees.
They were really tall shrubs, but I was but still
a young child, with much to learn in this world,
ruled by mean men. Magic and the elfin language,
still danced like sparkling stardust in my eyes.


Next to my father's garage grew these trees.
They were so sad dull black lifeless and ugly.
I took a bright yellow lively house paint.
And painted the trees yellow bright golden yellow,
in all sad places I could short armed easily reach.

But I also got paint on my hands face clothes.
In my wonderful joy I got paint on my clothes.
My apparently best going to town best clothes.
My mother punished me for painting the trees.
And the leaves a bright joyous yellow colour.


For making a small part
of this dull adult world.
A golden magical shinning
bright fairy glade place.

For painting making a small part
of this dull adult fading world.
A golden orb magical shinning
bright mystical fairy glade place.

For trying to make the tired
world a better magical place.
Thus were childhood dreamers
often beaten into submission.

By those who failed to see
the divine presence in dreams.
By those who failed to see
the magical sparkle in dreams.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock

Submitted: Saturday, June 05, 2010
Edited: Thursday, November 08, 2012

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  • Rookie Lynn Glover (7/24/2010 9:45:00 PM)

    Brought back many childhood memoriies, Terence, maybe not by painting the trees, but all the other majical things we did as kids. A good solid poem, Lynn. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 3 Points Dwi Utami (7/15/2010 3:36:00 AM)

    Golden memory -
    This poem make me remember my father.
    But during me chidhood.i'not lucky.like a child in this poem.
    Smoke, dirty, sun yellow light,
    is blending good.: thumb: when we are saw yellow light, ? i'never saw.I'have saw sun alwys red in afternon.he.he.he *really great poem: thumb: : thumb: (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 2 Points Rehana Nazli (6/17/2010 11:49:00 PM)

    For trying to make the tired
    world a better magical place.
    Thus were childhood dreamers
    often beaten into submission.

    By those who failed to see
    the divine presence in dreams.
    By those who failed to see
    the magical sparkle in dreams.

    Terence I liked your Golden Memory and the pain in the last two stanzas moved me a lot. Thanks for sharing it. Regards, Rehana (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 35 Points Nivedita Bagchi SPC UK (6/17/2010 11:27:00 AM)

    ‘I painted the trees yellow bright golden yellow. /In all sad places I could short armed easily reach. ‘…actually you painted your psyche to be in tuned with somber trees a.k.a. Human being…

    ‘Divine presence’… ‘magical sparkle in dreams.’..Yeah magic of Divine Will …does wonder thaumaturgy magic…which ‘sighted-blind’ can’t view…thanks B-2
    Ms. Nivedita
    UK
    10/10 (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 2,177 Points Pranab K Chakraborty (6/17/2010 6:44:00 AM)

    Beautiful and simply I tell you, you have dribbled with so many this in such a little space, really astonishing. Polluted uglyness acquired by the trees after getting the divine birth on the earth, as a poet you have the self-imposed commitment to give back its serenity again. Metaphor runs through the total body of the poem. Yes, the adult and the so-called hungry and hankerer civilization of human has made the globe a complete crematorium. Just waiting a bit as if the sensitives are the animal to be sacriced. Yet the poet has to run long before getting dark in calender pages.
    Thank you....write more poet.......

    Regards,
    10+++
    pranab (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 26 Points Gita Ashok (6/16/2010 1:16:00 AM)

    For painting making a small part
    of this dull adult fading world.
    A golden orb magical shinning
    bright mystical fairy glade place.

    For trying to make the tired
    world a better magical place.
    Thus were childhood dreamers
    often beaten into submission.

    By those who failed to see
    the divine presence in dreams.
    By those who failed to see
    the magical sparkle in dreams.

    A beautiful work of art that made me reminisce my own childhood days. Even today, it's the adults who kill the creativity of a child. No wonder the world is what it is. If only childhood could last forever... (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 721 Points Antonio Liao (6/15/2010 2:58:00 AM)

    the last stanza pleases my soul....like a wind gallops my whole being....fascinating poem of revelation...God bless...a 10 +++ (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - -1 Points Tsunami Hs (6/14/2010 7:54:00 PM)

    I love it! so sweet. sounds like something i would do! yellow is such a happy color!
    ~Tsunami (Report) Reply

  • Rookie ellie carpenter (6/14/2010 7:12:00 AM)

    nice sweet poem my fav keep up writing i love ur poems just keep posting and ill keep reading
    love ya
    xoxoxoxoxo
    ellie (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 294 Points Ramesh T A (6/14/2010 1:57:00 AM)

    Indeed the sparkling young dreams are curtailed by elders! Otherwise the world will be full of beautiful wonderful as depicted in the poems! Nice dream! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 0 Points Kesav Easwaran (6/13/2010 8:59:00 PM)

    childhood memories are always sweet to share with...whatever you do there would have been mostly innocent deeds- perhaps understandable by the so called 'grown-ups'...
    good work...10 (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Ramin Chaman (6/13/2010 3:09:00 PM)

    I think this poem is one of best poems that i read..and thanks for your message..10+


    Ramin (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Amrit Rathi (6/10/2010 10:19:00 PM)

    A beautiful poem full of innocence and nostalgia, very nicely penned! What a solace to paint to this tired world we think is great, with magical childhood dreams......For trying to make the tired world a better magical place......Thus were childhood dreamers....By those who failed to see....the divine presence in dreams......By those who failed to see.....the magical sparkle in dreams.. A REALLY GREAT POEM FROM A CHILD'S HEART! Deserves 10+ (Report) Reply

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