A Golden Memory Poem by 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
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
We were great when we were child Now time has clouded our profile. CP
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!
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.
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:
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
‘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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 9:10:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I think this poem is one of best poems that i read..and thanks for your message..10+ Ramin