Help me,
so the other children I don’t hurt,
help me,
so to my parents’ words I always submit.
Fragile like a flower,
fine like a powder,
soft like the plump’s skin,
mundane acts of συμμορφωθεί.
What purpose do these hands serve;
Who do they serve;
Youthful wide smile,
and eyes lush, of life,
yielding I whisper…
All the other children I’ll love,
I love them like they love me,
I embrace them like they embrace me,
carpet in their halls I’ll become,
no step further like in a muddy lawn.
Oh stars and parents,
start the mending like it’s meant,
to be done in a second,
meet me if you will,
at the end of the ruffled filament.
I love the other children,
I’m the soil and shoes for other children,
while I’ve got no umbrella.
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Author:
Ερμίνα (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 26th, 2026 04:03
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is heavily inspired by Karyotakis' (Καρυωτάκης) own poem written in 1927 called Children's (Παιδικό). Referencing an old poet of timeless value, LFTOC means to dig up an old piece of jewllery which cogitates recent times.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 3
- In collections: Referenced pieces.
Offline)
Comments1
To me the other children can refer to other's children but also to children of varying ages. We are all children in our innocence and ignorance. A child until we have learned the difference between right and wrong, not generally but specifically. We may be an adult in one area but a child in another. Knowing right and wrong in our job but not in our human relations. A lovely write.
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