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Array
(
[sid] => 23314
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => A Child Went Forth Everyday
[time] => 2003-09-16 17:05:00
[hometext] => This is a poem based on Walt Whitman's one- "A Child Went Forth Everyday"
[bodytext] => There was a child went forth every day And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years. An early death became part of this child, And sand; pure, yellow, hot sand brought by exotic water, falling between fingers of a hand which tried to reach its future, And sand; dirty, gray, cold sand brought by trucks between apartments, smashed under feet which tried to go somewhere else, And pure love painted in red, under the blue sky cut from a newspaper and a sun taken right from heaven, And pure red fire, and tears covered with smoke, hidden in the deepest part of child’s heart, and a girl, a girl on the balcony, And a pure red, small fire truck, a toy, and the driver, Irony became part of a 4-year-old child. And a long way home became part of him, And an illness, and very nice people, which were called murderers 10 years later, and respect, And a new building, a bunch of empty rooms, white walls and big windows, which step by step were becoming a new home, And the biggest ball of fur he had ever seen, his dog, and a lesson from him- be loyal, And a lesson how to choose your own way from his best friends- two cats, And a message from various birds that words mean and do much, And his friend saying that punching someone right in the face is not always a good idea, And a brand new bike suggesting that speeding can be very harmful, and disbelief, and a week in a hospital, And Lego teaching him the atom theory by spaceships and pirates, And a good piece of advice from a rooster sitting behind the fence to get the hell out of there if the boy wanted to achieve something significant. His own parents, he that father’d him and she that had conceiv’d him in her womb and birth’d him, They gave this child more of themselves than that, They gave him afterward every day; they became part of him, Mother and Father, an ocean of love, always full, without any tides, not to salty and not to sweet, never causing any disaster, All those little storms caused by the small rebellious child, Mother and Father, their marriage, like a never-ending sunrise, every day more and more light and feelings, And fun, Christmas, family, holidays… Primary school, Plato’s allegory of cave called Matrix, People who wanted to run away and never say goodbye and ended up under the bridge downtown, Mission impossible which in the end didn’t even matter because after taking a look around it became just a precious illusion, First date, knockin’ on the heaven’s door in November rain, first disillusionment, A new place where the streets have no name in the New Year’s Day on Sunday, bloody Sunday, in the name of love, High School the time that wasn’t on child’s side, the truth that was wasn’t out there, the dark side of the moon, Parties in the house of the rising sun, which smelled like teen spirit but turned out to be livin’ on the edge, nothing was as it seemed, The love that doesn’t cost a thing but drives us crazy, And Janie who got a gun and punished her father by wiping out two biggest towers in the world, Doubts and meaning of life, Horace, Aristotle, Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Carpe diem and pantha rei became child’s philosophy, memento mori his biggest fear, exegi monumentum aere perennius -his biggest goal, Things that were already parts of him affected his present life, Thousands of smiles from dozens of friends found thanks to his dog, birds and Freud’s lectures, Best grades thanks to Lego, Individuality thanks to his cats, And a second home in Minneapolis thanks to one, old rooster, Hopeless locker, good lunch period, personal fashion of Mr.Youngberg, sophomores and Peter, uniforms, crazy bus driver using handbrake on road covered with snow, prayer, faith, mass in foreign language, loneliness, laughter, new feelings, emotions, terribly expensive flowers and unbelievably cheap petrol, All these and 100 million things that he wasn’t able to describe became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 239 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Drzewo [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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