Childhood Poem

So I was assigned by my literature teacher to write a poem based of of Nikki Giovanni's famous poem Nikki- Rosa.

"Nikki-Rosa

By Nikki Giovanni

childhood remembrances are always a drag   

if you’re Black

you always remember things like living in Woodlawn   

with no inside toilet

and if you become famous or something

they never talk about how happy you were to have   

your mother

all to yourself and

how good the water felt when you got your bath   

from one of those

big tubs that folk in Chicago barbecue in   

and somehow when you talk about home   

it never gets across how much you

understood their feelings

as the whole family attended meetings about Hollydale

and even though you remember

your biographers never understand

your father’s pain as he sells his stock   

and another dream goes

And though you’re poor it isn’t poverty that

concerns you

and though they fought a lot

it isn’t your father’s drinking that makes any difference   

but only that everybody is together and you

and your sister have happy birthdays and very good   

Christmases

and I really hope no white person ever has cause   

to write about me

because they never understand

Black love is Black wealth and they’ll

probably talk about my hard childhood

and never understand that

all the while I was quite happy"

 

The assignment also required us to include certain lines from this poem, and to base it on our childhood. This is my finished result, enjoy!

 

"Hayley Olivia

Childhood memories are the prologue

to your story.

You will always remember things like the way Suloman’s

rich ice cream melted in your mouth;

just like the way an ice cube melts in a fresh glass of southern made lemonade.

We all used to crave being famous,

and now if you become successful in that way,

with your face plastered on the front cover of People magazine,

you will find that you miss the non – judgmental world that you lived

 in as an innocent child.

They never talk about how jovial it made you

when you captured the flag.

Your teams cheers ringing out in different pitched bells, so cheerful,

when you flew across the yard, and past the guard

winning it all for your team.

Somehow when you talk about home on Romig Road

you get misty eyed as you remember,

the outdoor games, and the unprejudiced people, who once played amongst you

like one big happy family;

along with memories of Suloman’s on the corner and fifty cent lemonade stands.

And even though you remember the drop kick to the stomach when you heard the news,

your biographers will never feel your pain or your family’s,

as the movers placed the last box in the truck,

along with your current contentment.

Though you’re told to sit tight and face the music,

it isn’t them telling you this that bothers or concerns you…

It’s the reality of moving far away from everything and everyone

you’ve known and grew fond of.

Although your parents knew what was right

when they moved you out here you still find it hard

to cope because,

life as you knew it to be was the rug that took

seven whole years to weave

being taken out from under you;

only to be replaced by a loom and newly colored threads.

I really hope that should anyone write about me they know that

I took those threads and with the help of the loom, started a new carpet.

Because the one thing that I want everyone to remember is

life goes on."

~Hugs from Hayley