When I was just a cub,
Issue date: 4/13/09 Section: Creative
When I was just a cub, and radiant, My ma told me that beauty could be revered through the blackest creases of life.
My pa sounded the chimes, Crimson stained city dreams, and disappeared through the militia hand grenades. And I heard the angels sing through the silver chair in Christmas Eve.
When I was just a cub, And gorgeous, I once saw freedom dissolved through the sweet breeze and yellow knee high grass. I felt the chill of dusk beneath my fingertips, On a road that was close to home.
My ma drew the cellar blinds And vanished into the star-lit, Stolen night.
And I saw the Phillipino men, In their olive skin dance in their Phillipino graves, White as alabaster.
-- Leandra Bryant
Viewing Comments 1 - 3 of 3
Ike
posted 4/13/09 @ 11:19 AM EST
This poem is very powerful. I like the imagery that the poet is able to create for her reader. I'm all about the imagery and this takes the cake. Well done. (Continued…)
Mags
posted 5/18/09 @ 3:56 AM EST
I LOVE this poem. I get the feeling that the speaker is talking about a time in their childhood in which they witnessed tragedy during a time of war. I really feel it. (Continued…)
sammy
sammy
posted 5/18/09 @ 4:02 AM EST
I LOVE this poem. It speaks in so many ways. The speaker has grown up during a time of war and tragedy. I love the imagery!
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