Poetry Blogs (Toys)

Long ago,

longing for a doll's house, 

a teddy bear,

and a ventriloquist puppet.

Longing to be held, comforted, soothed.

Longing for the safety of home,

something to cuddle and a companion.

Longing for the pleasure of play,

the delight in losing oneself in make believe:

escaping reality.

I picture myself,

five years old and,

painting in my yellow, plastic smock ...

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Holidaying as a teenager
back when time moved slower
and thoughts were many
I’d cruise the gift shops
reviewing tacky souvenirs
This used to be a fishing village
now it’s a tourist trap

And picking up a handmade bear
with wonky mouth and vacant stare
big button eyes and blood red lips
I’d wonder of its maker, its creator
someone dreamed 
this bear into the world
someone thought this...

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How is it

that even someone
that clings to broken toys
with a mix of
nostalgia and remorse
that cradles a chinadoll
whose chipped fingers slip through flesh
to the infantile heart at the center of
neurons
Could still
be held in the cradle of arms
owned by someone whose own skin
wields their own patterns of 'horse play'
And brazenly still
Refuses to let go
Of such an uncoordinated ...

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His Mother makes them both a snack

Jamal, he sits out in the back

Upon an empty old rice sack

Flip-flops and bottle tops

In Gaza, fun for girls and boys

Are simple things that make no noise

For Jamal they're his favourite toys

Flip-flops and bottle tops

He plays outside in rubble dust

His Mother smiles and is not fussed

It's safer there but only just

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