Raised as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I grew up not celebrating Christmas. In our family, it was just another day, but one we got to enjoy together. So, when people asked me to write about childhood memories of the holiday, it was back to making up stories. In the poem below, I wanted to capture kids playing with their new toys and some of the conflicts that came about from the treasures that Santa left for good boys and girls. Happy Holidays, everybody, from 1974.
G. I. Joe wakes on the flatbed
to the incessant whistle
of an angry conductor.
Barbie is escorted
from sitting on the caboose.
Behind schedule now,
the train leaves in a rush.
Joe almost slides off,
as the engine turns to follow
newly laid track
around the giant pine,
under the electrical cords,
through a cut cardboard tunnel.
A black monster
stands in the Express’s way,
barking,
barking,
then yelping—
running away from
the collision with its nose,
leaving disaster behind,
as the boxcar
rolls over Joe.
Barbie laughs out loud,
puts on her princess dress
and waits to catch the next train.
| Copyright © 2020 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He also dabbles in short fiction and may be onto some ideas for a novel. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. In September 2020, he started the blog “Disturbing the Pond.” |
A familiar tale we have all been through--thanks for the memory!
ReplyDeleteYou managed to capture all the magic and fantasy of childhood on Christmas wile remaining resolutely rooted in real images and events. So well done!
ReplyDeleteThis use of toy figures creating their own reality was the theme of my upcoming Fiction Workshop instructor, Darren Dean's latest poem. I'll see if I can find it.
I look to Jefferson City, MO to become the next trending literary hot spot!