Poetry by Annushka

Simi�s Song


Unusual in many ways was this one baby boy;
I realized this from the very start.
In breech position he would sit as if part of a ploy
to stay within and never to depart.
And so he sat supposing that
he could mess up the doctor's timely chart.

When finally my labor pains began to grow much stronger,
I knew cesarean would be his way
to enter our world, for I could not hold on much longer
and wait for him to turn around some day.
And so I cried, although I tried
to keep composure straight and not delay.

And that is how it came about that we met one another
me lying on an operating table.
Of course our plan had been a birth at home and not this bother,
but that's all right for we were both quite stable.
He stopped his cry to identify
my voice and then his wrist received a label.

The weeks and months that followed taught us how a little baby
could change the lives of those who lived with him.
The tiny little giggles and the squeals of joy were maybe
the mighty catalysts for change within.
Despite the fights with sleepless nights
our hearts and admiration he did win.

Unusual in many ways was this one brown eyed lad;
we understood this from the very start.
With endless curiosity and wonderment he had
filled up his busy head and tender heart.
Experiments,then accidents
would follow this professor "Mr. Smart".

Of course it was quite easy to perform some crazy tricks
on little rolly-poly brother Joe.
All kinds of queer ingredients he'd find and make a mix.
"Poison di-oxide" in the cup would glow.
And in a haste bro Joe would taste
to see if it might cause some vertigo.

The years that passed in childhood play were spent out on a farm.
Adventure waited for him every day.
And although many of his stunts did cause us some alarm,
it was the best place for us anyway.
So, digging holes like little moles
these boys would study every clump of clay.

What happened then, one sunny day, was quite a curious matter.
He stopped his game to hear a brand new sound.
While rest of us were visiting, immersed in busy chatter,
some quite new fascination he had found.
An instrument intelligent
had won his heart and he became spellbound.

Just a few months later he began to play french horn.
He surely was endowed a special skill.
It seemed that music was the biggest reason he was born.
His grandest dream he set out to fulfill.
Through discipline he seemed to win
each obstacle and challenge to his will.

Just like an athlete he would train and keep up a tight schedule.
We understood there was no other way.
However, we did miss him every time we had been hopeful
to see him join us for some rowdy play.
A hermit's life,a lonely strife
might be the final price he'd have to pay.

Unusual in many ways is this young handsome man.
Today he's turning eighteen years of age.
Amazing is his faithfulness toward his early plan
to be one day a famous french horn sage.
No more a child yet undefiled
he writes his story on a brand new page.

His road to fame and glory has not been so smooth and short,
as we all once envisioned it to be.
Discouragement would take a hold, his confidence distort.
No glimmer of success could he then see.
"Please overcome and not succumb
to inner critic's ploy" was thus our plea.

"You have been blessed with many gifts; to work you are no stranger.
Respect and admiration you receive.
We hope the lessons from your life will keep you safe from danger
of prideful mind that may your heart deceive.
Now humbly go, resist this foe,
and you will not go wrong, this we believe.


� 2004 Anne Maarit Ghan

Home Page