Loss of Imagination

A Poem By Hannah W. // 9/13/2010

No time for tea and sympathy
heading straight for the brink of sixteen
it’s been over a year, suddenly realizing,
since playing at some imagining.

How long it’s been since sticks and arrows
how long since paper planes
how long since flags and carboard houses
how long since spying games.

No time for books arranged in series, for
each year in between, growing up more
suddenly standing at the library door
finding the characters two years younger or more.

How long it’s been since pranking fairies
how long since talking dogs
how long since laughing out loud while reading
how long since London’s fog.

Looking back, realizing silly things
like how one absent-mindedly sings
when cloaked and rose-cheeked in the spring,
or when no one seems to be listening.

How much longer till those days return?
How much longer till full confidence again?
How much longer till fearless creating
or carving a snow pile into a den?

No time for tea and sympathy
not far from the brink of sixteen
it’s slowly fading, now realizing
how pales the world without some imagining.

Comments

Awh

This poem is sort of sad, but I still like it.

Julie | Mon, 09/13/2010

Formerly Kestrel

Wow... this is good. 

Wow... this is good.  Amazing, actually.  Come to think of it, I haven't done a lot of those things you listed lately.

Bridget | Mon, 09/13/2010

"I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question." - Harun Yahya

...............

I ussaly don't like poens about growing up..................but this one is accauly pretty good........."How long from London's fog." loved that line......

ps. Tea and Sympathy is a Jars of Clay song.....though I've never heard it.......its on one of their old CDs called 'Much Afraid'

Bernadette | Mon, 09/13/2010

oh, Hannah

I completely understand. Just wait until your a senior about to turn eighteen. ;)

Loved the poem. I've been musing over the same kinds of things a lot lately.....life used to be innocent, freeing rather than complicated, simple rather than involved.

Mairead | Mon, 09/13/2010

_________________________

"Sweet is the love that never knew a wound, but deeper that which died and rose again." - Mother Mary Francis

I was delighted to see a new

I was delighted to see a new poem posted by you, Hannah! You are very talented and this poem did not disappoint me. =) Thanks for posting it!

paperpoet | Mon, 09/13/2010

......

I love the first line!!!!! "Tea and Sympathy" has such a nice sound to it!!! Your poetry has such a nice feeling to it! sooo beautiful!

Elizabeth | Mon, 09/13/2010

************

The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine

Not sixteen....

Though I'm only on the brink of 14, I've been reflecting on a lot of these things lately. I've thought about what it was like to read a book or watch a movie, then run outside and act it out. I remember when my friends and I would play a game, Girls That Live in the Wild, and we would change into animals on the different moons. I remember when I used to be able to create without thinking about it, without having to think about being practical or not. Though those days are gone, I'm grateful for the memories, so I can try to imagine myself 8 years old again, riding an invisible horse around my front yard.

A lovely poem.

Erin | Tue, 09/14/2010

"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond

I've forgotten more of the

I've forgotten more of the little ways than I thought. But I've held on to more than I remembered.

Anna | Tue, 09/14/2010

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

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