PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[for all who are, or were, like me]

Long ago in that rather distant, sparkle-sprinkled time,

I was a lonely child, like a word without meaning or rhyme

through solitary summers:    yet I was not ignorant

of the kind of friendship an awkward kid, like me, could want.

Nor could I tell my parents (not at all an acceptable

choice):  homophobia was---there and then---too plentiful.

And, even at that tender age, I knew, deep in my soul,

I was not like, nor liked, by my peers, who deemed me different.

But during those sultry seasons' sunny, extended days,

I embraced what was, for me, the most desirable of joys---

watching the long-haired, shirtless, barefoot, adolescent boys

(all of them clad, defiantly, in supple, bell-bottom jeans).

In silent admiration, I offered my ardent gaze:

this poem bears witness to the beauty of those bucolic scenes.

J-Called