take me back to the beginning, when life was so much simpler
when my roots had no idea of where my branches intended to go
but were happy to just enjoy being free to strive
back to that tiny village nestled way down in that uncharted place with the red dirt and the kind people whose roots and branches had no borders and were free to intertwine and grow heavenward
Oh to laze in that beautiful undiscovered place, existing in an everywhere place in my heart
in the flavored soil where I was birthed...in dirt red so vibrantly crimson
blood hued roots delved deep, seeking sustenance in the earth
anchoring the forested natural formation of fruited trees and the people who inhabited the spaces
nutrient rich...the maroon dirt protected and fed the land which once was tended lovingly by caring hands
I remember the coffee buds on the trees outside the front door of my grandmother's house
I remember my grandmother's kitchen - a composite of Wattle and daub - a woven lattice of wooden strips of "wattle" and "daubed" with a sticky material combination of wet soil, clay, sand, and straw.
Her house was made of brick, combined with the wattle and daub, built by my grandfather whom I never met - a fisherman who had died at sea
I remember my grandmother digging in the soil for cassava to make her famous Bammy/flatbread, I so loved it when my mother fried bammy, serving it with fried fish
we had to drive a very long way to enjoy it after my parents moved to the city - I wish we had remained in the red dirt of the countryside
I love the natural quiet of the rural lifestyle, I would have loved to roam the woods, picking and eating fruits at my leisure, sleeping under the trees - spending more time with the only grandparent whom I ever met
But my father was a restless soul, like me - he needed to experience more of the world - it was the artist in his soul
I remember my mother's songs, my aunt's kindness, my siblings many idiosyncratic rumblings
The branches have diverged, taking roads which should not have been taken - and bypassing roads that should have been taken
But my roots still stay anchored in that humble beginning which still feels so right
Most times my branches ache with the longing for the simpler times, now lost to city life and striving for that something which will ever remain out of reach
But they all are a part of the growing pains of this life which we try so hard to conquer and rise as heroes
We may fall to ruin, or rise as shining stars - the victory is in how deep and firm we plant our roots of sincerity - how strong we remain, allowing ourselves to live our best lives...
In the enabling of our branches to strive to great heights of self fulfillment.
About the Creator
Novel Allen
You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. (Maya Angelou). Genuine accomplishment is not about financial gain, but about dedicating oneself to activities that bring joy and fulfillment.
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By Jay Kantor7 days ago in Families
Comments (24)
Resonance in spades for that yearning for simpler times... Your poem is comforting to those who have deep roots in those memories. An amazing recollection for an amazing and well-deserved placement!
Novel, you made this city gal long for the rural days of my childhood. This poem is absolutely beautiful. Congratulations on your win and top story!🥰
An engaging prose poem, Novel. Many maximalist words, too! Loved this one.
Wooohooooo congratulations on your win! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
this was lovely-congrats on your placement
Aw!. I love the memory of red dirt and rural naturalness - can't believe i missed this gem. If only we still ate naturally from our gardens. Sigh. Fist bumps on T/S.
Congratulations on your top story 🎉🎉🎉
This story is a heartfelt tribute to the simplicity and beauty of rural life, where the narrator’s roots are deeply intertwined with the land and the people. The imagery of the red dirt and the descriptions of the grandmother’s house create such a vivid and nostalgic picture. The contrast between the quiet rural life and the restless pursuit of city ambitions is so relatable.
Your great work
Congratulations on TS!! Beautifully done, you had me walking the red path with you. The details were painted well for us and I wish we all could enjoy the simple life you drew here - sitting, watching, talking, cooking, sharing…
Beautiful poetry, truly amazing! I loved every detail. Congratulations on another amazing poem!
This was a joy to read. The comparison of a simple life to a the demands of city living. Memories of a happy time of contentment or struggle with an urge to move and discover. The vivid imagery of home cooking and warmth is comforting, reminding us of our childhood. Where we felt safe Congratulations
Really great work! I love the descriptions of your memories!
Congratulations on your Top Story, Novel! This poem is a beautiful, sensory journey back to your "Red Dirt Roots." I absolutely love the vivid details, especially the contrast between the simplicity of the red dirt village and the aching complexity of the city branches.
I really like the unique style of this work - filled with surprises. I also enjoyed the visuals. The red dirt imagery is fantastic. Well done!
very good
Fantastic!!
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Excellent challenge entry…. I haven’t attempted it yet. I really like: “But my father was a restless soul, like me - he needed to experience more of the world - it was the artist in his soul I remember my mother's songs, my aunt's kindness, my siblings many idiosyncratic rumblings The branches have diverged, taking roads which should not have been taken - and bypassing roads that should have been taken”… lovely turn of phrase.✅
Love your writing
This was so nostalgic and emotional. Loved it!
Your homeland sounds like heaven on earth! This was wonderfully-inspiring! 🫶🏾🥰 Go No No Go!
This is beautifully done. You conveyed such a memory of peace along with a sense of longing. Somehow you got me feeling nostalgic for a Caribbean landscape that I have never seen myself. Your poem felt very grounded too. And relatable. I think every person in the world can look back, and reflect that some roads might have been the wrong roads. And some of the right roads might have been neglected. But I really think having a strong sense of where you came from helps frame where you are. Oh— almost forgot I really liked the lines about the foods. To me that’s a huge component of upbringing, and it gave the writing such a comforting feel.
🤎❤️🤎🍂🍂🍂🖤♥️🖤