It is said writers often tell a story many times before they get around to writing them down. Well, that is certainly the case with this early childhood experience.
I have told this story many times across the years and now I have finally taken the step of writing those words down in the form of this narrative poem. It is important to realize that events in our lives can spark ideas for poetry.
The events that are written about here happened quite some years ago, so they are my version of the truth as I recall it. Just like so many of life's experiences, it contains both happy and sad moments.
We must never forget writing is about both the mud and the flowers, the good and the bad, and sometimes we write about our embarrassing moments too...
Enjoy!
Kiss Chasey
All the kids in the
street
Gathered in Alan
Prebble’s
Front Garden
Bikes on the grass
A gang of eight
Milling around the
shrubbery
Talking
Just talking
Then someone said
We should do
something
Then there was
silence
Until Barry, a big
kid said
Let’s play a game
Then the muttering
began
A hubbub of mumbles
and muttering
In the midst of the
murmurs
A voice rose up like
a wisp of smoke
A wisp of smoke from
a country cottage chimney
We could play kiss
chasey the voice whispered
A pause…
Then an okay was
uttered
Not too sure who said
it
Or why
I was only nine years
old
And I knew…
Well, not much
I certainly had never
heard of kiss chasey
The mention of the
words kiss chasey
Made the girls squeal
and the boys blush
Barry explained the
rules
It’s simple really
said Big Barry
The girls run and
hide
The boys try to find
them…
You’ve only got two
minutes
And, if you find one,
you can give her a kiss
If she lets you
Do you have to?
Asked Alan Prebble
-well the game is
called kiss chasey
Oh yeah
I suppose you’re right said Prebbs
The girls scattered
into the garden
Still squealing
The boys followed
after counting to one hundred
Slowly and
deliberately
Like extras in a
zombie movie
I trailed behind
A little bit confused
Suddenly
Ahead of me, I saw her
Standing beside the
hydrangea bushes
Like a statue
Unmistakably, it was
Margo
Staring straight
ahead
Frozen in time
Margo the cool dream
girl
Margo who made me
nervous
Margo who made me
feel awkward
That Margo
I slowed
I glowed
As the distance between
shrank
Margo was still
staring
Barely blinking
What was she
thinking?
Knees shaking
Heart racing
I somehow took a
hesitant step forward
An invisible magnet
drew me closer to dream girl Margo
Contact!
A soft, dry kiss
All over so quick
No lip lock
No lingering here
I stepped away
Away
Away
Now, it was me
staring…
Margo slowly raised
her arm
And dragged it across
her mouth
Removing the boy
germs
No words
Just a look of
disgust spreading across her face
As if she’d been
kissed by a frog
A weird, warty swampy
frog
She slowly wandered
off
Leaving me
Welded to the spot
Staring at the
hydrangea bushes
Crestfallen
-The boy with wonky
lips
And crumby kisses
Frog boy
Right there
In that moment
I decided I would
never play
Kiss chasey again
Alan j Wright
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