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A Child With An Imagination
When I was a little girl
With plaited pony tails and all
And mamma's hand- made pillow
As an imaginary doll
To play with, all alone
For me, the colours of the rainbow
And all in between that follow
Used to be mysterious chimes
Oscillating between positive and negative vibes
Eyes closed, I create an imaginary world
A completely new fjord
Created below the precipice
Of the sea of deepest emotions unleashed
Because, a child with an imagination, that was me
When I close my eyes
Sometimes, I see yellow
And it brings one happy feeling
Joyful and rather mellow
Painting my whole day aglow
Yellow trumpet flowers and yellow ripe mangoes
Spring forth here and there in rows
The times I see the lightest of blues
It makes me think of sky hues
Blue seems royalty
With navy blue uniforms a specialty
So does my blue pinafore dress and a blue lagoon
Lingering away in my mind's cocoon
Well, a child with an imagination that was me
Whenever, I see dark blue
It makes me shiver all through
For I think of the dangers of the unknown sea
Where Pirates and hungry monsters haunt
Drowning, as one possible fear of torment
Many a times, when I see red
The boldest colour of the spectrum
Funny thing, I never think
Of reddish danger or blood curdling dread
But makes me think of wrapped up presents
For wish fulfillment
Red ribbons and red balloons
Of happiness and contentment
Yes, a child with an imagination that was me
At times when I see green
I feel unusually safe and serene
As if I have come home
The green grass and the green trees in our backyard
Green leaves of varying shape
Supporting the green fruits sour to taste
Play a part to relax my body and mind from within
When in those times, I see orange
I never associate it with fire or a fiery mould
No not me, not even for a second
But it does make me awfully hungry,
The reason a wee bit unknown
Perhaps orange sodas, sweets and lollypops, is my concern
For, a child with an imagination, that was me
At times when I see white
I think of the light
Of my sweet mother
A symbol of purity and chastity all together
Her white prayer veil and clean white laundry
And occasionally the white crescent in the national flag
Occupies my mind, yet another mystery
At those dark times, whenever I see black
The most dreaded colour to sight
I cannot help but think
Of the devil carrying a black sack
Of hideous sins to commit
And black witches roaming in the darkness of the mundane night
Oh! A child with an imagination that was me
When at those times I see pink
My favourite of colours, till this day
I think of myself in pretty pink clothes
Not to mention, the pink flowers and pink frills of all sorts
For me, Pink powder puff and pink satin
All together makes the perfect woman
And finally, at those very rare moments when I see purple
A colour marvelously special
Gives me a feeling of mystery and excitement
And believe me, something physical
Stirs deep from my soul
Though I still was child at heart then
The strange feeling lingers on, quite magical
Surely, a child with an imagination that was me
With plaited pony tails and all
And mamma's hand- made pillow
As an imaginary doll
To play with, all alone
For me, the colours of the rainbow
And all in between that follow
Used to be mysterious chimes
Oscillating between positive and negative vibes
Eyes closed, I create an imaginary world
A completely new fjord
Created below the precipice
Of the sea of deepest emotions unleashed
Because, a child with an imagination, that was me
When I close my eyes
Sometimes, I see yellow
And it brings one happy feeling
Joyful and rather mellow
Painting my whole day aglow
Yellow trumpet flowers and yellow ripe mangoes
Spring forth here and there in rows
The times I see the lightest of blues
It makes me think of sky hues
Blue seems royalty
With navy blue uniforms a specialty
So does my blue pinafore dress and a blue lagoon
Lingering away in my mind's cocoon
Well, a child with an imagination that was me
Whenever, I see dark blue
It makes me shiver all through
For I think of the dangers of the unknown sea
Where Pirates and hungry monsters haunt
Drowning, as one possible fear of torment
Many a times, when I see red
The boldest colour of the spectrum
Funny thing, I never think
Of reddish danger or blood curdling dread
But makes me think of wrapped up presents
For wish fulfillment
Red ribbons and red balloons
Of happiness and contentment
Yes, a child with an imagination that was me
At times when I see green
I feel unusually safe and serene
As if I have come home
The green grass and the green trees in our backyard
Green leaves of varying shape
Supporting the green fruits sour to taste
Play a part to relax my body and mind from within
When in those times, I see orange
I never associate it with fire or a fiery mould
No not me, not even for a second
But it does make me awfully hungry,
The reason a wee bit unknown
Perhaps orange sodas, sweets and lollypops, is my concern
For, a child with an imagination, that was me
At times when I see white
I think of the light
Of my sweet mother
A symbol of purity and chastity all together
Her white prayer veil and clean white laundry
And occasionally the white crescent in the national flag
Occupies my mind, yet another mystery
At those dark times, whenever I see black
The most dreaded colour to sight
I cannot help but think
Of the devil carrying a black sack
Of hideous sins to commit
And black witches roaming in the darkness of the mundane night
Oh! A child with an imagination that was me
When at those times I see pink
My favourite of colours, till this day
I think of myself in pretty pink clothes
Not to mention, the pink flowers and pink frills of all sorts
For me, Pink powder puff and pink satin
All together makes the perfect woman
And finally, at those very rare moments when I see purple
A colour marvelously special
Gives me a feeling of mystery and excitement
And believe me, something physical
Stirs deep from my soul
Though I still was child at heart then
The strange feeling lingers on, quite magical
Surely, a child with an imagination that was me
Published 25th Nov 2012
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Anonymous
25th Nov 2012 6:58am
GREAT poem by your pen, Aminath!
A child with imagination, that, you still are.
Your imagination is a gift, a joy for each reader!
A child with imagination, that, you still are.
Your imagination is a gift, a joy for each reader!
28th Nov 2012 3:14am
Thank you so much for the lovely comment and the encouragement! It means a lot!
25th Nov 2012 8:34am
Beautiful, flowing, and inventive imagination here. Lots of talent and promise.
Of the devil carrying a black sack
Of hideous sins to commit
And black witches roaming in the darkness of the mundane night
Wonderful.
Of the devil carrying a black sack
Of hideous sins to commit
And black witches roaming in the darkness of the mundane night
Wonderful.
28th Nov 2012 3:18am
