My First Long Poem....on a heavier note.

  In my 6th grade English class we were asked to memorize and recite a poem. I chose this one, mostly because it was one of the shortest options. It made such a strong impact on me that, for years after, I continued to write poetry. In fact, by high school, I secretly considered myself a poet. In 2011, I have a very difficult time imagining 6th graders being amazed or entranced by Eugene Field's words, but they had a major impact on me. In a single school year, I experienced Charles Dicken's Great Expectations; took in Romeo & Juliet at a ballet; and was introduced to Edgar Allan Poe. This was in an Oklahoma City Public School.

 Times they are a changin! For my current 7th grader, EAS means "EA Sports, it's in the game". When I was in the 7th grade, EAP meant "Edgar Allan Poe, it's in the book". Of course, I have to admit, the Atari joystick of my day cannot compare with the Playstation 3 (and the awesome graphics of today's games). Maybe that played a small part. But it is distinctly possible that I was just a strange kid. I have tortured my 7th grader through Great Expectations and I plan to introduce Walt Whitman and Edgar Allan Poe this school year. I am pretty sure my son has no desire to be a poet.

 By the time I reached high school, my favorite poets had become people like: Prince, David Lee Roth, Lionel Ritchie, Geddy Lee, Michael Jackson, Steve Perry, and Ronnie James Dio. Things seemed to have required a bit more flare to hold anyone's attention (mine included). Emotional highs that could not be created by a good concert light show, fancy dance moves, or a guitar/drum solo;  were easy enough to find behind a name like Bacardi, Schnapps, or Wellers. But  there was something about the sober intake of words literally centuries old that I enjoyed immensely (and still do). Forgive my digression (and long- windedness), I was only trying to introduce this poem by Eugene Field, which I think helped me to cross some imaginary line (that I did not know existed at the time) and find common ground with people where I might not have expected it. So, without further ado, here is one of many from my 6th grade year:

 Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust

But sturdy and stanch he stands

And the little toy soldier is red with rust
And his musket moulds in his hands

Time was when the little toy dog was new

 And the soldier was passing fair

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue 

Kissed them and put them there

Now, don't you go till I come, he said

And don't you make any noise

So, toddling off to his trundle-bed

He dreamt of the pretty toys

And, as he was dreaming

an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue

Oh! the years are many, the years are long

But the little toy friends are true

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand

Each in the same old place

Awaiting the touch of a little hand

The smile of a little face

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through 

In the dust of that little chair

 What has become of our Little Boy Blue

Since he kissed them and put them there


 These words were written almost 130 years ago, at a time when it was not uncommon to lose children from various diseases of that time period. Ironically, Eugene Field lost a small child within a decade of writing these words.