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Author Name: Premiumskipinpin 13 Comments
Date Added: August 20, 2008 19:08:28 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Little boxes of varying colours all the same,
filled with people trying to play the same game.
Whites, blacks, browns, others more like yellow,
coloured races, different nations, wanting to know,
how to be best winner, of the game, in that little box.
These good people in little boxes go to the university,
dentists, philanthropists and politicians with a degree.
Some become lawyers or doctors, not yet fully grown,
each carefully tagged by a separate box of its own,
still, all have same things in common in that little box.
Some drink Martinis, Blue Lagoons, eat with silver spoons,
two or three phone calls or so, than it's golf all afternoon.
Many make beautiful children and send them off to learn,
after summer vacation, the university, now it's their turn,
to be stored away, in that, custom coloured, little box.
The children start their own businesses as they get older,
later they love, get married, become fathers or mothers.
They in turn also build new places for their children to hide.
After, they settle their affairs with a few extras on the side,
they too, ride to the cemetery in that same narrow little box.

Author's Notes:
An inspiration at the Holyoke, Massachusetts cemetery where little flags indicated deceased Viet-Nam war veterans French-Irish-Polish etc.Americans, were scattered here and there alphabetically among the poorer working class. . I noticed some huge monuments some ten feet high beneath the largest Pine trees of the burial grounds and wondered, although I knew exactly "WHY". 
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'LITTLE BOXES' Copyright © Raymond Pinsonneault
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Comment By: FreeMicky McMaster on November 19, 2008 09:25:05 PM Report
intriguing piece ,Raymond
very nicely done


Comment By: FreeWide Awake on October 15, 2008 03:35:22 PM Report
Very POIGNANT Raymond....A real punch in that last line!

Excellent construction fellow poet.


Comment By: FreeBarbara Demasson on October 6, 2008 06:41:19 PM Report

We all have the same and position may buy a grand headstone but it cannot buy a favorable accounting of our lives...which is all there is left of us in the end. It really is what you leave behind that counts...good deeds, love shared with others and fine memories made together. Nicely penned Raymond!



Comment By: FreePamela A. Lamppa on September 22, 2008 10:44:45 PM Report
...even in death.

Wonderful perspective and perception in this poem.  ~Pamela

Comment By: FreeRohit Sapra on September 21, 2008 02:19:24 PM Report

It was really nice reading this poem of yours. It talks about the continuous process which life has and especially the way you have described it is very good since the flow is fluent.



Comment By: FreeLinda on September 10, 2008 09:49:31 PM Report
Very nicely written poem filled with a lot of meaning!
Comment By: FreeSuzin on August 30, 2008 11:10:20 PM Report
Wow, I loved this poem! I find it scary that we're all born to die, but that's the way the world works.  Its hard to imagine the babies I know now becoming adults, likewise the adults when they were young, but we all go through the same journey.  No matter what we all end up in the same place, we all have our time.  This is a very insightful poem, it's amazing.  Another great poem.

Comment By: FreeJames Lagoski on August 24, 2008 03:20:50 PM Report
Dear Raymond-
Everyone who breathes ends up in a box
Colored in crimsom wearing the same socks
Yet no matter how we're covered we're all the same
In the end we can all end up a winner of this game

If you played by the rules amongst all the fools

Drowning in the tears that filled many pools

And remembered you can only br you

Then you've became one of only a few
I Loved This!

It made my mind click!
Best Wishes to Ya!

Comment By: FreeTango on August 23, 2008 04:57:17 PM Report
Wow! This really makes one think. you are so right, we just go round in ever decreasing circles in our own little box.

An excellent write.


Comment By: FreeMary F. Charest on August 21, 2008 11:23:41 AM Report
A well written poem that makes one stop to think.  Nicely penned.


Comment By: FreeCathy on August 20, 2008 08:47:06 PM Report
I really enjoyed reading this amazing write Loved every word of it Excellent write

Comment By: FreeRoger Bacon on August 20, 2008 08:21:53 PM Report
Good write. 
Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on August 20, 2008 08:09:37 PM Report
Awesome lines here it expresses everything..... Great poem ...((
The children start their own businesses as they get older,

later they love, get married, become fathers or mothers.

They in turn also build new places for their children to hide.

After, they settle their affairs with a few extras on the side,

they too, ride to the cemetery in that same narrow little box.

 So True!!

 ~ She Whispers


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