What are you doing, my son?
Counting crowns.
Crowns? What crowns?
King’s crowns.
Where are the crowns?
Can’t you see? The rain is making them.
She looked where he pointed
At the water rising where each drop fell
And saw the crowns
King’s crowns
Thousands of them
I wrote this piece to be published anonymously in the college magazine, in a page dedicated to versification on rain. Most of my students guessed it was my piece ‘cos I used to relate this little episode where my 4 year old son opened my eyes to the crowns that rain drops made - to prove the point that all of us are born poets but our creativity falls by the way side in our struggle with this business called life.
6 comments:
Along with our innocence we lose spontaneity too. Our perspective loses its freshness and originality. I was reminded of a story I read. Little boy asks his father - 'Dad, have you seen the star in the apple?' The boy cut the apple laterally and lo! there were stars right in the middle. Who would ever think of cutting an apple across the middle? Our vision jaded, mind cynical and thoughts stale - what are we doing with life?
good post madam!!!
i guess it is when you think in an unknown direction you get more ideas and find more fun in life
One truthful post!!
Superb poem, madam. Is it not possible to retrieve the freshness of the child in later life? I am posing this question more to myself than to you. To go back to that stage is to be in communion with God.
Haaa…beautiful madam. I can see those countless crowns, thanks for the fresh perspective.
How nicely put! :)
Post a Comment