Story of a lost journalist

September 2, 2008

A child of 9

Filed under: poem — Cris @ 03:36
Tags: ,

I wish it was those times again
When I was just a child of 9,
And playing was the only thing,
I did or want to do

Like the sun gone up to work
Big girls and boys all around
Went out to do the same
While cloudy eyed, I slipped around
To find a bed and sleep again

My wants were so small, my needs even less,
Cause I could name the things I liked
In ones, twos and threes

Running around, no thing of shame
Climbing and crawling, a happy deal
Bruises and wounds, ack who cares?

Watching her, that little girl,
Of all those years ago,
I know what I had was lost
And that I took, did all too well
Unpicked, unlearned, uncared

For fear, I didn’t, of shame or truth
I must’ve known it didn’t matter
To worry about a world
That didn’t worry for me

I wanted only fun in life
Things that kept my spirits high
I must’ve known that life didn’t wait
For boys and girls to wake up and run to it

I knew what to do ‘n where to look
To find and do the things I should
I must’ve known there was no time
To wait and brood, life went by too fast.

I knew a lot at 9,
Knew to live and love,
The earth, my Mom and folks
They were all in my game

[Wrote as soon as it came to me – precisely at 3 AM, when I woke up seeing a bad dream – about an old lady whose ghost came laughing and wouldnt go away after I had shot her with my hands shaped to a machine gun! Dream’s location was supposedly a place I knew as a kid and to which I returned to sleep the night with my Grandma, a few many floors above my home – again supposedly. H ‘n C it was called. Well there was something of childhood in it and I found myself waking up to murmer those lines – I wish it was those times again. Its a crazy world, but I do, I really do wish I could sneek to those days and live it sometimes]

Advertisements

11 Comments »

  1. Awesome! Truly!! Re-read it four times to realize its beauty. Way too good for a spontaneous work!

    Was reminded of the Greenday song:
    “Wake me up, when september ends…”
    all through. Don’t ask me why!

    You rock, Cris! 😀

    Comment by Hari Shanker — September 2, 2008 @ 06:20 | Reply

  2. crissss .. u started writing poems .. wow wow!

    Comment by rose — September 2, 2008 @ 09:37 | Reply

  3. “I knew a lot at 9,
    Knew to live and love”…criss what cool and wonderful lines man!!!
    u rock da

    Comment by Kripa — September 2, 2008 @ 16:18 | Reply

  4. Aww.. beautiful sweetie!! And so true… During that age what worry can haunt us, right? In fact, worry only comes to our train of thoughts only after we grow up.
    My favorite– “I could name the things I liked,In ones, twos and threes”

    P.S. I know its probably old wives tales but, its often said said that bad dreams are supposed to bring something good. So keep your fingers crossed!!:)

    Comment by M.Rose — September 3, 2008 @ 20:56 | Reply

  5. @Hari Shankar, 4 times?! Wow thanks I dont think I read it that much!

    @rose, you should know! I published in our school magazine in classes 6 and 7! Hmph!

    @Kripa, thanks dear 🙂

    @M.Rose, wow I get a professional’s certificate yaayiii! My favorite, if I may choose from my poem ahem, “I know what I had was lost
    And that I took, did all too well
    Unpicked, unlearned, uncared”. Bad dreams hah? I hope that grandma comes again today… gulp! Err or maybe not. Any easier way to inspiration oh wise one?

    Comment by Cris — September 4, 2008 @ 03:46 | Reply

  6. Professional?Me? Whoa! I started writing poetry only 7 months back. I don’t think of myself as a professional. But coming from you my dear, its really an honor. I’m humbled!
    Easier way? Hmm.. Actually, its very easy to get inspired.All you have to do is this—- Look around and don’t just look, SEE with your heart and eyes. Inspiration is right in front of us. We only look but never see. We can LOOK at the most inconsequential of things like, say, a piece of crumpled paper or a jumble of electric wires , but its only if we SEE as it should be seen, we can write an epic poem bout it.(Am I makin’ any sense?) Try it chrissy!

    Comment by M.Rose — September 4, 2008 @ 08:53 | Reply

  7. I wanna be 7! 🙂 Nice one Cris

    Comment by Tony Sebastian — September 4, 2008 @ 13:53 | Reply

  8. Those days are irretrievably lost, sure!
    But atleast you can ‘reflect’ back.

    Btw I have been thinking that Sylvia Plath’s poem about some orchids in a hospital ; that which we had in the school course, ofcourse ; would be the last poem I read written by a female. Not because poems by women are inept, just that it takes them eons to shine any light onto me! Gee

    Cris is the next big Poet!

    Comment by Vishnu Kuttan — September 4, 2008 @ 14:58 | Reply

  9. @M.Rose, Mine eyes are open from nowww. Crumpled papers and electric wires, you watch out.

    @Tony, Hehe 7 ?

    @Vishnu Kuttan, Wowwww thanks little bro!!!! :-))))

    Comment by Cris — September 4, 2008 @ 16:14 | Reply

  10. Reminds of childhood, think will start writing childhood havoc stories that shook a whole household once upon a time. 9 though sounds a little too old. 6 was more like it. Lost all sense by 9.

    Comment by Funnywriter — September 5, 2008 @ 03:37 | Reply

  11. @Funnywriter, possible, I was always slow, so I stuck on to sense for a little longer than the rest. 🙂

    Comment by Cris — September 6, 2008 @ 01:51 | Reply


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: