When I was a Teenager
by Emile M Tubiana
Rated "G" by the Author.
Print Save Follow
Recent poems by Emile M Tubiana
Le jasmin de l’été
La Joie de la vie
Les vrais amis
Mon Profond ami
Vive la vie
>> View all 552
How we lived when I was Young
When I was a Teenager
My town was called Beja
We lived on farms or in town
Our breakfast, lunch and dinner were hearty
Breakfast was milk, bread and butter and jam
Alternating with soft boiled eggs .
Our main menus were noodles with legumes,
And spaghetti with tomato sauce.
Twice a week we had meals with meat or chicken
We drank very sweet lemonade
Our parents drank wine, alcoholic drinks
We went walking to and from school four times a day
Going to school, returning home for lunch
Back to school in the afternoon and back home
Some walked half a mile each way and some more
In the summer we had no air conditioner at home
In the winter we had coal fire in the kitchen stove
We had neither radio nor television
Only few had a telephone
There were a few fridges for the hospital or the doctors
Three cars served the mayor, the governor and the doctors
We had a lot of toys, none was checked for danger
No child died as a result
Today I wonder how we met without phone
The school yard was our center of communication
The play ground was the street,
The boys played soccer until dusk
The girls played hop scotch.
I didn’t know what obesity means,
We were healthy and happy people
There were no burglaries, no rape
There were friendship and good neighborhood
In the summer time we sat on our door step with our neighbors
Some had a guitar and some just sang nice songs.
I wonder if today people could live this today?
Copyright 2010 Emile Tubiana
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by jude forese
|i believe there are environs in the world that still exhibit the qualities you've expressed in this descriptive poem ... believe it or not, when i was a child, nyc had many such neighborhoods ...|
|Reviewed by Paul Berube
|Great write, Emile. Ah, the memories.|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|It is indeed as if you are talking about another world, another dimension, Emile. Merci, mon ami. Cela me rappelle ma jeunesse dans le nord du Canada; crois-moi ou non. Amour et paix,