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In grade three we were learning how to write different kinds of poems. Of course none were beautiful, top notch poems. They were the poems you'd hear from someone who just puts together words that rhyme, which are poems but not the really touching, meaningful ones that I've read in the Times. There's one poem I wrote that day that now I just want to decode it and see if I can sense any true meaning in this poem. So here it is . . .
There once was a beaver named Sally
Who liked to walk down the alley
And when it was dark
She played her harp
That Silly old beaver named Sally
- Third grade Vicki
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Okay first things first. Nobody really names a beaver, but if I did, I'd name it Chompers or Munchy or Fredrick . . . not Sally. Next if beavers walked down alleys they'd probably freak out and run into a mailbox because they're not used to the city. Why in the world would a beaver play a harp in the dark or even better how in the world would a beaver play a harp in the dark? Don't ask me. And lastly, beavers aren't silly, they are serious animals who have jobs of being beavers.
Okay so this poem has no meaning. All it can tell me is I had a big imagination back then and that's what the point of this article is. We all had such huge imaginations when we were young. Think back, way back. Were you ever a princess for a day? A cowboy? A cop? A robber? A powerpuff girl? What about the yellow tellytubby? Now we still have our imaginations but through writing or drawing and that's fine but just always remember that you have that imagination for a reason. Use it.
And one last thing. There is one more thing this poem told me: I enjoyed beavers at age 8.
Beaver loving VickiDeze signing out.
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