WRITING 201 : DAY 05 : The Elegy Of A Young Boy – Fog, Elegy, Metaphor


These are some lamentations of a 5 year old child, who lives in the mountains with his mother, father  and a one year old brother. He dreamed to be a teacher someday. His father died in an untimely period of life where he is still very young, tender, and still don’t know what life and death really mean. He went up the mountains and talk to God to bring back the life of his father. At first he won’t allow his father to go but ultimately in the end of his trek, he gave up and let his father go on his way.

This is a 10 – syllables, 4 – lines, 7 – stanzas  Elegy

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      I’m here ‘bove a mountain, heaven  can touch 

          White smoky layers, flying on my top

                               Hear me  God, where’s father, the man with grudge             

                   You took His happy life, bring His breath back

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    Said in your prayers, together we’ll grow     

                Like Mosses in the Bible, beard unshaved

       Cane in his hand, as you told long ago

                                  While mother listened, the story you shared

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.You promised,  to let me finish my school

                  Degree in college, a teacher someday

Or if not, in a vocational school

           And now your leaving me, at home to stay

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What are promises for, my father dear

                              You are leaving me, my heart is broken        

You didn’t say to me, perfectly clear

                   That you’ll go ahead of me, to heaven

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  But i really would not, let you go now

                     I’ll be missing you, tomorrow and next

             I have my homework, and i don’t know how 

                                     To do it all alone, don’t know the steps

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   I will cry and cry, until you’re here back

                                Sitting on your lap, rubbing my nose red

      If you’ll  return now,  me back on your lap

                                 I’ll sleep right now and make you my bed

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     I’m sleepy now, i can’t hold back my eyes

                               They’re going to close, on this sleepy fog

        Look, your bed’s cottony, God has revised

                                          Sweet dreams, Pa, took samples here in my bag

.–oOo–

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