Monday, July 26, 2010

My Poem Writing Year - #117 - Tar Bubbles

Tar Bubbles in Eden, NY
Photo by Amy LV

It's a small thing, sitting on the curb and popping tar bubbles just for the joy of sound and the soft feel of warm black on your fingertips.  As a young girl, I would sit by our mailbox and play with the bubbles of tar for leisurely stretches of time.  Now my children do this, and I still smile with the car windows open when I drive through warm tar on a hot summer day.  SNAP!  SNAP!  SNAP!  It's great.

Students - what things do you do, little things, things that don't earn you a ribbon or a championship, things that don't accomplish anything spectacular...what do you do for plain old enjoyment?  These are good possible writing topics, what you do when you simply spend time with yourself, loving the world in little ways.

(Please click on COMMENTS below to share a thought.)


  1. Amy, this poem takes me back. When I was young we used to go stay with my great grandmother at the lake. It was the best place to be a kid: candy stores, water, and laughter. The road in front of her house was covered with tar bubbles during the hot summer months. We'd go out to play and could spend hours walking on the hot pavement. Our feet were black and full of tar spots when we'd return to her house. Thinking back, I'm not sure how we played on the hot tar street for the amount of time that we did. They did "hiss" and "click". How funny, I hadn't thought of these in years. Still enjoying your poetry! Thanks for sharing.

  2. Cathy,
    What a wonderful place that must have been! Thank you for writing. I have this feeling that you and I would get along really well, and I hope we meet at a conference someday. I still really like popping tar bubbles and think that I should do it more often...'hope you find one today!