A poem: Someone

Here's another poem I wrote weeks after the first one you've read yesterday. I'm not a poet but I do like write a poem when I'm down. It feels like I'm telling people about how I feel but in a different form. So enjoy the poem...

Title: Someone

There was someone,
Someone who used to live in the darkness,
A life that he wish he never had,

It has been many years,
Since he used to live with little lamps,
In a little bamboo house,
The house held thousands of stories about someone,
But he feels it was like yesterday,

Someone used to live with nothing left,
His belongings were burnt out,
He had to work as a stone collector,
To carry out his life through the darkness,

Someone used to work,
From dawn till the sun disappeared,
With little rice in his worn out bag,
For a little money,

His little body was tired,
Slept on the bamboo floor every night,
Woke up before the dawn came.

After woken up by many unexplainable dreams,
Hoping to get another Ringgit in the next day,
Someone was a warrior,
In the battle of his family,
Those who failed will fall,
Those who escaped will live,

His dad always wanted to kill him,
Either with a hatchet or motorbike,
But he was strong and unbeatable,
He never wanted to be defeated,
By the hatchet held by another warrior,
He escaped every single attempt

Someone used to cry,
When he got to know he was different,
He was adopted in the family,
He never knew his real parents,
But he hoped it wasn't true.

Someone used to run deep inside the jungle,
When he was sad and cried under a tree,
He wished the tree could talk to him,
Though he knew it was just a dream,

When the pouring rain came,
Someone used to save his books,
Putting them in a plastic bag,
Because he knew,
The bamboo house was not able to protect his books.

Someone had a dark life,
Darker than when he was walking in the jungle at night,
under the moon light,
He had to go through it,
Though sometimes he lost his way,
But he kept awake and walking,

Because he knew at the end of the jungle,
There was a little bamboos house which will give a shelter to someone.


P/s: This is another poem illustrates about the blog owner

A poem: A little boy

I've written this poem in Dec 2011 when I was feeling so dawn about my life.
It was about 2 Am in the morning and couldn't sleep. So I grabbed a pen next to my bed and a piece of paper then started writing something. This has several versions until I cut off some unnecessary stanzas and finalised it. So here's the final version.

Title: A little boy

There was a man,
Who used to run and walk in the jungle,
Every morning and afternoon
Together with squirrels, monkeys, butterflies and sometimes a snake

He used to live with a little lamp,
In a little house made from bamboos,
He used to run away deep in the jungle,
To save his life from the roughness of his drunk brother and father,
Then he had to crawl back to the house to get back his things,
Before setting off to school through the jungle with empty stomach

When he had a chance,
He went to a shop and stole pencils, books, sharpener and sometimes sweets,
He never wanted to do that,
He knew it was wrong to do that,
But then he had no choice,
Or he would never be where he is at the moment

He used to cry when he lost his pencil,
It was hurt more than when he was ill,
He adored every single thing in his bag,
Though the bag was old but he appreciated it

When he was a little boy,
He never had what he wanted,
He liked chocolates,
Cost too much to afford them,
He had to steal them

When he was a boy,
He never had new shoes and uniforms when a new term began,

The pupils used to laugh at him because of his poorness,
The other villagers used to laugh at him because he always wore the
same old uniform to go to school,
He was down, but he was strong in his world

Sharp at 12.40 in the afternoon,
The moment he had waited for since the dawn,
He ran out of the class and excited going back at home,
He was hungry and thirsty,
He stopped at the little stream and took his bottle,
Filled it up and drank it.

He liked carbonated drinks,
That day it cost 1 ringgit but it was a lot of money for him,
He never had it and he really wanted to know how it tasted,
One day he was walking to the shop,
There was a bus passing him though,

One of the people on the bus threw a carbonated drink cane out of the bus,
He ran to get the can and found out there was some left inside the can,
With a thirsty throat he drank it and he was over the moon,
He thought it was so delicious and loved it so much

He knew when he got back at home,
He will end up with rice and nothing else,
Maybe some salts or black sauce,
Or something very little in the can.

He collected snails from the river or maybe some eatable leaves from the jungle,
For his lunch to be eaten with rice

His childhood was a life,
A life with not a single challenge,
But many challenges to build him,
To be someone stronger and tougher,
Although he fell, dropped and slipped many times.

Crossing the bridge of life,
But he woke up and kept walking with no one,
Even his body was tired,
But the flame of his spirit was always on,
Because he knew nobody would be with him but himself....

P/s: It's a true story of someone...