THE BADGERsteemCreated with Sketch.

in #art6 years ago

I once knew a little boy
and sure he was his father's toy.
At every Dawn of the morning light
he'll gather sticks like they were kites.
A curious boy he was for he buys;
goodly stuff from poor old guys.


Source

His heart panted everytime
he had to do a task that was timed.
His questions were barely answered
whenever he asked the Elderly.
And it seemed at some point as though he was wiser
Or perhaps the old were misers.

"Why do we hire people when we can do the work?
Why do we go to school and yet seek for jobs?
Why should the old watch what they eat
If indeed they were good at it?"
These very questions he asked a minger mater
Who infact didn't understand the matter.

image
Source

"I thought the old 'specially the septuagenarians
were a repertoire of the past gone eras.
I was told they knew everything
and that compared to them all I know is but a thing.
Should I rephrase these statements
Or should I make some adjustments?"

"Why are there classes between people?
Why are some poor and others feeble?
Why are the rich fit for King
While all the poor wear are rags and rings?"
And in the boy's quest for answers,
He had the serendipity to meet a wise old badger.

Whom in his youth made efforts asking
The older ones who kept neglecting.
But the older he grew,
The very more he knew.
So he in his own wise state
gave the boy a very good rate.

No man is saint, no man is free,
Everyone is bonded in their own degree.
All the things we say and do
are reflections of decisions made ado.
Our life is just too short
to even wear for long a skimpy short.

All there is are just spaces
and as we grow older we give life paces.
But listen little one,
Wear yourself out not even once.
For as time goes by you'll meet a girl
and sure she'll give your life more respect.

And all this wondering of yours you would neglect
Cause with time all these would reflect.
Go youth way little lad,
Wonder not of the world or her herd.
For she is old and older than you
And you'll realize this when the time is due.

So went the boy to his home so glad,
He picked up a book and said to his Dad;
A poor old man this day gave me an advice
that I'll sure share with you when the time is right.
But first let me go forth in the dead of the night
And gather sticks like they were kites.

Hi Guys,
My little write up was something I cooked up a few years ago. It was precisely written on the 14th of October, 2015. I wrote the poem after noting some symptoms of puberty in the life of teenagers.
I noticed that aside the physical change that is noticeable they tend to suffer identity crisis and at the same time they question the world system and emphasize on it's inequality and harshness.
So I wrote this poem to soothe a teenager especially young men (boys) who feel they are not understood.
Please let me know what you think about this poem.
Thanks for stopping by.

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