Behind the Camera..., by Orlando

My Child
So beautiful, so innocent
His head is a marble
His hands small as a kitten’s paws
His movement curious
A whole world to explore

I cannot remember when I was my child’s age
But it was no doubt a happy time
Serene, fresh, right
How clear my mind must’ve been
Unsaddled by tomorrow’s bill or delusional promotions
Living in a clear bubble of blissful ignorance
Where the only problem was in the diaper
And the solution the nearest trash bin

My Child
Always smiling, always laughing
His lips pull into a smile
That melts my heart like a snowflake landed on a child’s tongue
I long to hold him
And keep him in my arms forever

I look forward to all my days with my child
Holding his hand on the first day to school
Teaching him golden rules
Skimming my finger across the lines
As he reads his first book

My Child
Forever young, but always growing
He runs over to me
And falls clumsily into my embrace
Through good times and bad
He is now my world

I don’t want to leave the present
But the future is imminent
They truly do grow up so fast
And many years from now, when I grow whiskers like the farmer’s cat
And lose my knees to time, will he hold me?
Will he find a way to let me know
That although I’ve grown old, I will forever remain
In his heart.
Until then, I’ll spend every moment for him
My Child


Explication:

This is a free verse poem I wrote from the perspective of "behind the camera". When we look at pictures, we are so often caught up in the images and colors that we never ponder on what the person taking the picture was thinking. With that in mind, I wrote a poem in the perspective of a mother taking a picture of her baby son. It fits in with my theme of childhood and youth in numerous ways: by paying tribute to our mother's love in childhood, by painting imagery of an innocent baby, and delving into the idea of past generations and new ones.

Free verse is a form of poetry that has no set meter patterns, rhyme, or any other musical pattern. However, some poets have explained that free verse must still retain some level of form. The "form" in this poem can be found in the repetition of "My Child" every other stanza. The effect I am trying to get here is to have alternating stanzas of the mother describing her son and then her own thoughts about life and new generations. Poetic devices in this poem are scarce but are present, especially in describing the son. For instance, "his hands small as kitten paws" and "That melts my heart like a snowflake landed on a child’s tongue" are both examples of similes.