Cottonwood Summers by Alexandra Laird (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📕

Cover photograph is © Copyright 2012 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved.

Cottonwood Summers

Photograph © Copyright 2012 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved.

DeviantArt: I realized after joining deviantArt that writing was very much an art form. The encouragement I received to share my writing, and the support after I shared it, gave me so much confidence to do what I love, share and learn, and to not let anyone shut me down. Scott "Mahi-Fish," especially, helped me with these poems. He always had a suggestion and a kind word, and wasn't afraid to critique a thirteen year old!

"Cottonwood Summers" was first featured in KneelingGlory's journal and as a Daily Literature Deviation by the group DailyLitDeviations. Still very appreciated.

Spring and Summer were Sisters

Gasping for Lost Times

Photograph © Copyright 2011 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved.

"Thank you *Mahi-Fish for the critique! I've changed a couple things that he pointed out to me. He is a fantastic writer as well as a fantastic person, and I highly recommend you go see his page!"

http://mahi-fish.deviantart.com/

Skips Down the Hospital Halls

". . . This [is a] very special little poem about a very special little girl who has made the last four years of doctors and tests and treatments and pain bearable by just the thought of her beautiful smile."

Thanks to Lucidflux for the comments and suggestions!

Sticks, Stones, and Pinches

"A small little memory from when I was three or four. I hated that little brat."

At the Amusement Park

"As written on a napkin while eating bar-b-q at an amusement park."

I Still Have His Note

Photograph © Copyright 1998 Gail Laird, All Rights Reserved.

Something Poetic About a Tree

Photograph © Copyright 2012 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved.

"Doesn't it drive you mad when you get a wonderful poem in your head and then it gets lost in your thoughts and for the life of you you can't remember what it was? . . . all I could see in my mind was a brush stroke in shades of brown and purple. Very strange."

Cottonwood Summers

June 2009

Every summer in our
Back-yard oasis
In good ol'
New Mexico,
Our two-story-tall
Cottonwood tree
Would let down
Piles of snow.

The green capsules
Peeled back
In quarters
As the silky cotton
Inside grew,
And the wind would weave
Through the leaves
Coating the oasis
Like dew.

(Although in the later years
It was more like a blizzard!)

Without the cotton
The case would dry
And the wind then blew it down, too
And mybrotherandI
Would run outside
And

Crunch, Crunch
As we went down the
Little path, under the
Not-so-little tree.

Crunch, crunch
As we stomped around,
It under our shoed feet.

You see,
mybrotherpreferredsandals
And I preferred none
As I thought it
A crime to cover my
dirtybarecallused feet,
Except maybe in flip-flops
When we went out-of-home,
But only if my nails were
polished pink!

Oh, they were glorious days!


Spring and Summer were Sisters

July 2009

Here's to
Me and Selene under the umbrella
'N Sorcha's popsicle mustache
And make-believe and
Our innocent dreams.

Here's to
Spring and Summer frolicking
in the grass
And picking dandelions—
Lots and lots of dandelions—
Laughing and spinning and smiling
In a field full of white fluff flying
with our happiness.

Here's to the days
Where we were ourselves and
Nobody else, except
Faeries and princesses and performers and
Dreaming dreaming dreamers.

Here's to the
Friend I loved, and the Toby I didn't
And the frog from school
Hopping on the hard wood floor
And you and me.

Here's to Breyer's organic peach ice cream
That I still ask for when I'm sad,
Probably because I ate it with you.

Your smile is engraved in my memory
And in my heart
Please, don't let me ever forget it
Or the memories I cherish so much.

Here's to
Spring and Summer in the soccer field
And the best days of my life.








June 2009

Warmth immerses me
as the sun's rays
envelope my body

For a moment I
will close my eyes
and absorb it

Just for a moment,
until I drown
in its pool

As I am forced
to remember that
disease is my master
and realize again
that I cannot breathe

In the
beautiful,
warm,
sun-
shine.

And I am yanked
up to the surface,
harshly out of
the nostalgic emotions
the warmth redolent

By the pain shouting
From my skin
By the burning,
And the knowledge that It
may
never be
again


I gasp for air

I gasp for times
That cannot be re-lived.


Skips Down the Hospital Halls

June 2009

She skips down the hall
with her eyes;
Her legs wobble

She skips down the halls
of the hospital
And smiles.

How does she smile
when she is
Not like the rest?

How does she smile
When she is
Not "normal," you ask?

What is your question?
Can't you see?

Just watch her

—Smile!

Sweet, perfect little thing!


Sticks, Stones and Pinches

June 2009

The little boy taunted the little girl, both no older than four years, in the big room of the high school turned preschool.

The curly haired child held back tears, her big brown eyes looking defiantly into his blue ones.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

"Oh yeah?" he retorted, "How 'bout this?" and he pinched her arm until it bled.

Change the verse.

It's sticks, stones, and pinches.

At The Amusement Park
June 2009

Screaming
Laughing
Talking
Singing
Kissing
Dissing
Children Missing








I Still Have His Note

July 2009

I wonder if he knows I still have his note
When he yells at me
and when I yell at him
And when I want to slap him
and when he wants to punch me
I wonder if he knows I still have his note

“E=MC ■
Hi Alex! psst!
Do you know you’re the bestest big sister in the world?”

In my favorite music box
(the beautiful, big piano music box
from Grandma’s friend, Josephine,
the pretty one with the dancing ballerina, that I
Love, love, love, love, love)
I still have his barely legible
quickly written
spur-of-the-moment
written on a sticky-note
Note.

Does he know, after
I-can’t-remember-how-many-years,
That I still cherish and
Love, love, love, love, love
His note?

Surely he doesn’t even remember the note.
It wasn’t a big deal or anything, see,
just a little note
from a little boy,
who I
Love, love, love, love, love.

I e=mc ■ you too, Bubby.


Something Poetic About a Tree

June 2009

Something poetic
Grew in my mind
About a tree
Before worthless thoughts
spread like weeds.
Now all that remains is a
Single, brown brush stroke
That branches from
my mind.

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I have so many thanks! If you're not here, you're not forgotten!

The last one goes to Mahi-Fish and SOLARTS who spotted this and reminded me that poetry is everywhere!

This poem
hasn't been
written yet.

Text: © Copyright 2009-2012 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved.
Images: © Copyright 2011-2012 Alexandra Laird, All Rights Reserved. Photograph accompanying "I Still Have His Note" © Copyright 1998 Gail Laird, All Rights Reserved.
Editing: See "Author's Notes"
Publication Date: 04-29-2012

All Rights Reserved