perhappened mag
issue 1: CARNIVAL
my childhood was not
wild and poppin'
MORGANA MOORE
My childhood was not wild and poppin’
Our entire worlds were within the walls of the house
And the grotty plastic and breezeblock of our school
That will exist permanently in early 2000s
Despite being a child of the 60s
When parents let their kids run free
And only beckoned them back
For hot tea at five on the dot
My mum was afraid
And untrustworthy
Of this modern world
I didn’t ride a rollercoaster until I was eleven
On a school trip where I was
temporarily let off the leash.
I was told extensively at the time
That that was very weird.
Was I Amish? A freak?
All my bony kneed, pre-teen friends
Had grown up on Butlin’s Holidays
And the like.
Butlin’s! my mother would scoff.
How un-esoteric!
At the time I was jealous
Unbearably so
Why can’t my life be wild and poppin’?
I’d ask myself, already feeling
left behind at such a tender age.
In 2007 my definition of poppin’
Was defined as going to the park alone
And eating cotton candy,
The forbidden food!
Now I don’t mind my quiet memories
They’re simple and unclouded
Pure and nostalgic in a way
I don’t think whirling lights and
Rollercoasters could be
Maybe it was 2003.
And we had happened upon
an old-fashioned carnival
and to my amazement
my mum said
‘let’s go in’
In her mind it was
Wholesome, not tacky
And fun, not overwhelming,
Everything she wanted our childhood to be
When people are gone
And memories can’t be made anymore
We treasure the simplest of things
Like sitting in my mum’s lap
and whirling down an old helter skelter
painted bright red and white.
Screaming with glee,
And thinking, for a five-year-old
My simple, sheltered life
was pretty wild and poppin’
Our entire worlds were within the walls of the house
And the grotty plastic and breezeblock of our school
That will exist permanently in early 2000s
Despite being a child of the 60s
When parents let their kids run free
And only beckoned them back
For hot tea at five on the dot
My mum was afraid
And untrustworthy
Of this modern world
I didn’t ride a rollercoaster until I was eleven
On a school trip where I was
temporarily let off the leash.
I was told extensively at the time
That that was very weird.
Was I Amish? A freak?
All my bony kneed, pre-teen friends
Had grown up on Butlin’s Holidays
And the like.
Butlin’s! my mother would scoff.
How un-esoteric!
At the time I was jealous
Unbearably so
Why can’t my life be wild and poppin’?
I’d ask myself, already feeling
left behind at such a tender age.
In 2007 my definition of poppin’
Was defined as going to the park alone
And eating cotton candy,
The forbidden food!
Now I don’t mind my quiet memories
They’re simple and unclouded
Pure and nostalgic in a way
I don’t think whirling lights and
Rollercoasters could be
Maybe it was 2003.
And we had happened upon
an old-fashioned carnival
and to my amazement
my mum said
‘let’s go in’
In her mind it was
Wholesome, not tacky
And fun, not overwhelming,
Everything she wanted our childhood to be
When people are gone
And memories can’t be made anymore
We treasure the simplest of things
Like sitting in my mum’s lap
and whirling down an old helter skelter
painted bright red and white.
Screaming with glee,
And thinking, for a five-year-old
My simple, sheltered life
was pretty wild and poppin’
Morgana Moore is a UK-based short fiction writer interested in speculative fiction, the oddities of the human experience, and identity. She is the creator of @fatcatmagazine where she publishes flash fiction submissions online. To keep up to date with her work, you can find her on Twitter where she occasionally Tweets @morgana_moore.