“first time putdown”
He had spent the morning
working on it.
Not a masterpiece—
just a thing he’d made
from the materials at hand:
cardboard, a stub of pencil,
a few lines he thought
were clever enough
to show someone older.
He waited until the right moment,
or what he believed
was the right moment—
the grown‑up at the table,
coffee cooling beside a stack of papers,
the room steady and unhurried.
He placed the page down gently,
as if the gesture itself
might earn a kind of respect.
The grown‑up glanced at it.
Not long—just a flick of the eyes,
a quick assessment
the way someone checks a receipt
before tossing it aside.
A comment followed.
Short.
Flat.
Delivered without malice,
but with the kind of certainty
that leaves no space for reply.
He nodded, though
nothing had been asked of him.
He folded the page once,
then again,
as if reducing its size
might reduce the sting.
The grown‑up returned to their papers.
The room resumed its usual rhythm.
Nothing dramatic had happened,
yet the air felt slightly altered—
as though he’d stepped into
a category
he hadn’t known existed.
He didn’t cry.
He didn’t argue.
He simply carried the folded page
to the bin outside,
dropping it in with the same care
he’d used when offering it.
Later, he would learn
that the comment said more
about the grown‑up’s limits
than his own attempt.
But in that moment,
all he understood
was that he had brought something forward,
and the world had shrugged.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2026 05:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, Kevin Hulme
- In collections: 2026.
Offline)
Comments10
much enjoyed read
Thanks my friend 🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
We are all children and the world and society grown ups. Beautiful ideas, burgeoning genius stopped in its tracks by misunderstanding, lack of attention, disinterest. Discouragement by those deemed experts does not diminish the creativity of the young. A wonderful write my friend
Thank you dear Soren🙏🏻🕊️
Most welcome Cryptic its a pleasure
A powerful story, well-written.Your story centers around a young person who creates something simple but meaningful, only to have it dismissed by an adult. This experience serves as a poignant commentary on the struggles of self-expression, the quest for validation, and the emotional repercussions of being brushed aside.
Thank you Friendship 🙏🏻🕊️
it reads gentle but theres nothing gentle about this .. it has the sharp taint of harsh truth and reality about it .. so many youngsters endure similar rebukes but this is the first time I have read anything that is packed with such quiet hurt/pain .. Neville
Thanks N, quite so 🙏🏻🕊️
Rik, this hurt in such a quiet and recognizable way. The poem understands how a single dismissive moment can linger for years without anyone else even noticing it happened. Powerful, relatable piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Like that child bearing a bloom as a present… we never know if it was accepted or not🙏🏻🕊️🌹
Good write A.
Thanks muchly O.
And don't we feel the shrug with our lives, our poetry. It is wonderful to encounter someone who observes beauty and shares it with the beholder. Exceptional write my friend.
It must be training for the harsh reality of the world outside. In a way, sad at the eroding desensitization that usually accompanies. 🙏🕊️
And don't we feel the shrug with our lives, our poetry. It is wonderful to encounter someone who observes beauty and shares it with the beholder. Exceptional write my friend.
I really enjoyed this. The Kid maybe his on a different level - Higher Level - than the Adult.
Well written.
Perhaps so, it's a weird relational juxtaposition. Cheers, mate🙏🕊️
We must always bring things forward Rik that is how we learn to progress in life.
Andy
We do, indeed. Thanks, Andy 🙏🕊️
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