Poem Review: Conversations with A Child
I love talking to children. Do you?
I always wonder how intelligent can be innocent. Learn it from the children. They can laugh and be happy at nothing — a quality that adults miss. The carefree innocence leads to abundance. We embrace anxiety and guilt when we grow, and lose the carefree innocence.
The conversations with children is a discovery of this abundance and innocence. Yet children also need words of nourishment from us.
“The soul is healed by being with children.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky
The words of Dostoevsky ring true, corroborated by the fact that the poets who write about children feel the same. Poetry about children is about learning from them, as much as understanding ourselves. We can converse with children as children and as adults. The first poem, ‘ Young Homie’ by Poet Yasmin Aden, is an exhortation of righteousness by an adult (the poet) and the second, ‘Tell you a secret’ by Poet Ken Hume, is a small episode of honey and whispers between a father and his daughter. Contrasting as they are, the poems capture the moments of interaction between the parent and the child.
Let us dive right in!
Poem 1: ‘Young Homie’
Look around
And account aloud
shoes without shoelace
Yet you Stand out
Embrace the phase
Please wait
Tie your shoelace
Appreciate with less complain
A child barefoot with the widest
brightest silent Smile
Seen a mile away reconciles
For a while less vocal and noble
Yet struggles but humble
Hold up young homie
split it ain’t about the fast life
strife and stride
educate yourself emulate
Hold up young homie
only uphold For the right cause
For society robs
~Yasmin Aden
Commentary on Poem 1:
The poem is a conversation with a child, yet a discourse on righteous life. The dual tone of this poem is not obvious, but as we cruise along the verses we shall discover.
The poem is about the elder talking to a ‘ young homie’.
Look around
And account aloud
shoes without shoelace
You can feel the duality right away. ‘Shoe without shoelace’ indicates the carefree nature of the child. Alternately, it could also mean that the child’s dilapidated condition, especially coming from an impoverished neighborhood. But a carefree, impoverished ‘homie’ is who the poet is talking to.
Now if the young homie looks around, he can really see his adverse circumstances. Let us define ‘homie’ now.
homie — /ˈhəʊmi/
noun, INFORMAL•US — an acquaintance from one’s town or neighborhood, or a member of one’s peer group or gang.
The word ‘Homie’ is an interesting choice. It brings a community and a neighborhood to the fore, and in turn, sets the context for the poem. The child is a product, and at the same time, the most fertile symbol of a community. The poet brings attention to the child and ‘look around’ and ‘account aloud’ to awaken the child’s sense to his surroundings.
Yet you Stand out
Embrace the phase
Please wait
Tie your shoelace
The young homie’s response to the situation he had gathered while ‘looking around’ is to now ‘stand out’ , which is his ultimate goal. But how should he start?
‘Please wait’, the poet exhorts, and advises the homie to ‘tie his shoelace’. The tying of shoelace is indeed about the preparation before the journey — situational awareness and preparedness, all in simple words, by the poet.
Appreciate with less complaint
A child barefoot with the widest
brightest silent Smile
Seen a mile away reconciles
For a while less vocal and noble
Yet struggles but humble
The elements of a balanced, prepared and confident path lays ahead of the homie, according to the poet. ‘A shoe without a shoelace’ is still a covered toe than a ‘barefoot’, if only the homie ‘appreciates and complains less’.
The acceptance that the homie is in an impoverished condition is a step-up from the situation awareness, which we saw earlier. Acceptance bequeaths humility and nobility. Acceptance brings in a reconciliation, even it is for a while. Acceptance brings ‘ a silent smile’ despite the struggles. A profound input to the homie, indeed.
“Nothing brings down walls as surely as acceptance.”
― Deepak Chopra, The Third Jesus: The Christ We Cannot Ignore
For the homie, the acceptance could be difficult and against popular notion. It requires an effort. It is against instinct and popular advice. The poet, however, keeps good counsel.
Hold up young homie
split it ain’t about the fast life
strife and stride
educate yourself emulate
The struggle can take a toll, hence the young homie must ‘hold up’. It takes time to build life through such struggles. Awareness to acceptance, acceptance to action. Action is not about the ‘fast life’, but dealing with ‘strife’ and ‘striding’ over it, and focusing on ‘educating oneself’.
“Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
The action that the poet describes to the homie is to build his competence and endurance. Now, there is a purpose for that action. The purpose for that action comes from the heart.
Hold up young homie
only uphold For the right cause
For society robs
‘The society’, the poet says, remorseless jungle for survival. The society, especially the young homie’s neighborhood can pull one down, and rob them of success. The heart aches for justice — to ‘uphold the right cause’. The action that comes from the heart, is altruistic, putting others above oneself.
“Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.”
― Benjamin Franklin
The poem offers a simple, yet beautifully structured advice for the young homie. Awareness, acceptance, action, altruism — four significant elements that will make the young homie a positive contributor in this turbulent world.
Poem 2: ‘Tell you a secret’
Somewhere else, while we were reading about the ‘Young Homie’, a cute interlocution between a father and a daughter — ‘Tell you a Secret’ by Ken Hume.
She ventures over to me slowly
With a coy expression on her face
And shuffles up beside me on the couch
“I want to tell you a secret daddy.”
Her gentle voice utters so quietly
That I can barely hear.
“What’s that darling?”
“Daddy, I want to tell you a secret”
A little louder this time
Yet still with a soft tone.
Tugging at my arm
So I decide to play along
With her game
Curiosity piqued
I stoop down real close
Asking her
“What do you want to tell me?”
And so,
She whispers in my ear
“Daddy. I want….”
With a pause for effect
“I want….
I wait with baited breath” I want crisps”
Crisps?!
I said to myself.
What an anti-climax!
I chuckle out loud
“Is that it?”
I inquire.
“Yes daddy”
Her mischievous smile
Stretching across her face
I push myself up
Venture over to the press
Where she’s already opened the door
And take out a packet
Of ‘monster crips’
As she calls it.
Such cuteness
And brazenness
All in one!“You’re going to turn into a packet of crisps
You know that?!”
I say.
Laughing now.
“No, daddy”
She twisted her head back
laughing in return.
And off she skips
Back into the sitting room
Having secured her prize.
Sure, how could I resist?~Ken Hume
Commentary on Poem 2:
This poem drips of innocent, cozy, daddy-love. I don’t have a daughter, yet I dote my nieces. The poem changes my mood to all the good things in this world, yet held inside a cocoon. I can imagine reading this poem on a cold, dark evening, yet inside a home, the father and daughter duo, having this cozy, warm conversation.
She ventures over to me slowly
With a coy expression on her face
And shuffles up beside me on the couch
The warm house adorns a couch. The father is on the couch, the girl approaches the father. Father is her superhero and first love. A love that is pure and innocent, wrapped in safety and warmth.
The ‘coyness’ that she expresses, while she ‘ventures slowly’, and then ‘shuffling up’ beside the father ‘on the couch’ — there is the unbridled, innocent excitement oozing out as she approaches her father to share her secret.
“I want to tell you a secret daddy.”
Her gentle voice utters so quietly
That I can barely hear.
“What’s that darling?”
“Daddy, I want to tell you a secret”
A little louder this time
Yet still with a soft tone.
A gentle voice — ‘her gentle voice’, full of innocence and excitement, permeates the air of love. Still, the words are hushed, and the father can barely hear. She intents to tell a secret to her ‘daddy’, her confidante. First is the tone and second is the matter. The tone is ‘gentle and quiet’ the first time, and ‘louder yet soft’ the second time. Is it not a blessing for the father, to be called and whispered to, by his dear, darling daughter?
“Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father.”
― Lydia Maria Child
Then, of course, the matter that is to be kept secret, even when nobody is around. The matter is a secret, and at this stage, I cannot reveal it. The daughter expresses her intent to share a secret, a secret that can be only between them.
“I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
The father is the confidante and the girl is the whisperer. The secrets are those little things that strengthen their bond. Let us explore the ‘matter’ now.
Tugging at my arm
So I decide to play along
With her game
Curiosity piqued
I stoop down real close
Asking her
“What do you want to tell me?”
And so,
She whispers in my ear
“Daddy. I want….”
With a pause for effect
“I want….
The daughter’s act of enticing her father, ‘piquing’ his ‘curiosity’ continues. For the father, the antics of the apple of his eye draws him to the secret. He decides to ‘play along with her game’. Now, the act of delivering a secret commences.
He asks her about the secret. He is curious. He leans close to and asks her. This act of a father is all encompassing, in particular, a playmate, that the girl can trust. This is a game, but played with a person who is trusted completely. Girls have their little secrets, and it can be shared with a person who they trust most — Fathers. Fathers are the epitome of unconditional love and companionship to their daughters.
“A father is the template of a man Nature gives a girl”
― Allison Pearson, I Don’t Know How She Does It
In this playmate role, the father pops the inevitable question — “What do you want to tell me?”. The suspense, slow yet ‘piquing curiosity’, plays out now. The girl, whispers the secret… or not yet…in hushed tone, ‘pausing for effect’, says ‘ I want… Daddy, I want…’.
This dramatic effect of the whisper is like the breeze caressing the leaves of a tree, the leaves know they can only dance in the whisper — the father himself, now drawn into the web of the sweet conspiracy that the young girl has laid out. Let us see how the secret plays out.
I wait with baited breath
” I want crisps”
Crisps?!
I said to myself.
What an anti-climax!
I chuckle out loud
“Is that it?”
I inquire.
“Yes daddy”
Her mischievous smile
Stretching across her face
The girl breaks the secret. She ‘wants crisps’. For the besotted father, who was drawn into the web of conspiracy, he was expecting a bombshell. Crisps, just crumbled into an anticlimax before him. Ouch!
My idea of a meal, if I was hungry, was to open a bag of potato chips.
-Sandra Cisneros
His dear daughter has a weakness for crisps. Crisps are her favorite stuff, and she wants them, and that is the big secret! The father, like a lovelorn leaf in the ocean of this deeply hushed conspiracy is hit with a mild soft wave in hushed tones. It was all about ‘crisps’.
Being the loving father he is, he keeps the ball in the game. ‘Is that it?’, he inquires, going with the flow. His darling daughter is still at it, ‘ Yes, daddy’, she smiles, like the billion stars twinkling in the sky. And who would not fall for it?
I push myself up
Venture over to the press
Where she’s already opened the door
And take out a packet
Of ‘monster crisps’
As she calls it.
Such cuteness
And brazenness
All in one!
It is a race to the press… I would read it the counter or shelf, or perhaps the fridge. The crisps are there, alright. She has beaten her father to it, ‘taking out a packet of ‘monster crisps’’. From a cute conspiracy, it became a adorable race, which is won well and truly by the daughter. The father relishes these endearing moments, ‘such cuteness and brazenness!’.
“If daughters couldn’t soften a man, then nothing would.”
― Linda Weaver Clarke, Anasazi Intrigue
The man, the father, who in another world has to fight his own battles, is now his daughter’s playmate, co-conspirator, and a victim of her unlimited cuteness. This is a world of their own.
“You’re going to turn into a packet of crisps
You know that?!”
I say.
Laughing now.
“No, daddy”
She twisted her head back
laughing in return.
And off she skips
Back into the sitting room
Having secured her prize.
Sure, how could I resist?
So what if he lost? He is a playmate, and is trying his luck to morph her, you see? The father mimics a playful abracadabra on the cute apple of his eye, and tells her that she will turn into a packet of crisps. A packet of crisps are the ultimate joy, for the daughter and for the father, his daughter. The packet of crisps is the most loving metaphor, about the crunchy love that is flowing in this poetic conversation.
She achieves her ultimate objective, the crunchy crisps. She gets back to the sitting room with her prize. The allure of daughter’s love, cannot be resisted by the father. This event is a cute, curious and cuddly way of a daughter saying ‘ I love you’ to her father. The father returns the mushy love.
“Daddy,” I whispered, feeling my own breath hitch in my throat. “I love you.”
Just when I was sure he was asleep, the one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “I knew that,” he murmured. “Always knew that.”
― Morgan Matson, Second Chance Summer
It’s a love that both know will exist forever. Such is the cozy, cute, curious world of the daughter-father’s love.
The Conversations
I love talking to children. Their conversations bring us the fine experience of humanity and the wisdom of the innocent. With conditioned and scarred minds, adults are weary veterans of the world. The young are the fresh and future of the world.
The conversation with young homie are like the ones I have with my son. The father-son relationship is different, and it is mostly advice and admonition. The little things are never there. It is about righteousness and future. There is a definite space needed for both of us, as the young boy is growing into a man.
On the other hand, my nieces, much younger, are an unrelenting cascade of giggles, a combination of talent and cuteness, that I yearn for — as a father who had a daughter would.
Both are different worlds by themselves, but united by the innocence and freshness. The world needs more such conversations, than busy the ones busy adults have amidst running around to make ends meet. I am blessed just for this — finding two great poems and putting them together for us to read and enjoy.
~Ashok Subramanian
Copyrights of quoted verses and verbiage belong to respective poets and are acknowledged.
