Friday, March 21, 2014

Camp Hideaway

The. prescriptions are filled,
and the bags are packed.
You can ride up front,
or you can ride in back,
but you're riding

to Camp Hideaway.

We've got arts and crafts
(but nothing too sharp),
campfire songs,
and s'mores after dark
providing

that you've had a good day.

The flora and fauna
are certain to soothe you
and quiet the queerness
that moved us to move you.
We're trying

to help you here.

Just think of this all
as a grand vacation
with medication
and meditation.
Fighting

won't help you, dear.

Stop fighting, dear.

A camp poem for Corey's prompt at Real Toads

16 comments:

Sylvia K said...

Ah, yes!! Been there, done that -- I have four of those dear ones!!

Kerry O'Connor said...

No amount of gentle persuasion will get me to budge, so I am with the reluctant victim of your poem. I believe camping is a popular form of retreat practiced by people the world over - just not me.

Kay L. Davies said...

Taking the patients out for R&R, are they? Sounds like torture to me, but what do I know?
K

Kathryn said...

I'd definitely need some form of medication to go camping :0)

Margaret said...

Oh, I just started giggling with the first line…

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I LOVE this........yup. "Trying To Help"..........this is so funny!

Helen said...

This is hysterical ~~ and honest!

Herotomost said...

Ugghhh!!!! Yes, this reminds me of Church camp and several other camps I went to as kids and the overwhelming uncertainty and dread that would wash over me daily. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be getting to know the other kids. To me, it was like being held as a hostage in the Game of Thrones. That kind of camping was never my friend. Not sure if this is how you meant it, but it is how I read it, with a wash of dreadful nostalgia....lol. Great description and awesome tone.

jo-hanna said...

For medicinal reasons - like chocolate, or so I say.
Nice and snappy, with the briskness of a Head nurse.

Lorraine Renaud said...

heard of that yep I go along and wait, I'm patient...when all sleep I run away run run run run run run with
my medication

Sioux said...

Mama Zen--Those stand-alone lines are gems (along with the rest of the poem).

Susan said...

Aargh! Living on a farm is much better than camping, but not so much a vacation for the mother. Given this alternative, I wouldn't want a vacation. I think. But then, for me this is a theoretical opinion with no experience behind it.

Kim Nelson said...

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Those parents likely don't know what else to do. Saving a life is never easy.

Bekkie Sanchez said...

Geeze I like your work! The timing and the form is awesome! I enjoyed the truth of it.

Fireblossom said...

I know what it's like for one's body to turn traitor, but not what it's like for one's mind to do the same, which i think might actually be much worse. If they came to take *me* away to Camp Hideaway, I'd be the girl kicking and screaming "Ya got no right!" a la Frances Farmer.

Susie Clevenger said...

A sank to the level of administering Nyquil once...I understand your pain lol