Ballad

Finally, I am done with my Ballad. I thought I would never get to write this type of poem. I just found it so difficult. But, here I am, ready to post the latest one I just wrote. I know ballads are supposed to be about legends and folk tales. Unfortunately, I could not find any inspiration there. I decided to use a street child as my subject. I have always been partial with poor children. I like children, rich or poor. There is just something about their innocence that warms me. This is why, I have written this ballad for a child of the streets. I hope you guys still enjoy this. Surprisingly, this isn’t like any other love poems I’ve written. 🙂

The Ballad of a Street Child

Cars are now passing by, waking me up.
Time for me to pick up my empty cup,
Yet another morning has now come,
Living as one of society’s scum.
The night before had felt so cold;
My body feels so sick and old.

And through the day I walk along the street,
Hoping I could find something I could eat.
My dirty hands scour through garbage bags
As I wipe them with my worn old rags.
And I try to satisfy the hunger and longing;
I look for this peaceful feeling of belonging.

At home I have a mother and a father.
Don’t ask me what they do in life; Don’t bother.
I have seven more siblings who are just as sick;
I try not to think of them- that’s the trick.
I have to eat, and dream, and survive;
I have to make it out of this alive.

I eat the food that people throw away;
I try to imagine I am eating at a buffet.
The food is as hard and as cold as stone;
I try to savour it, even as I consume it alone.
I wish I had more food to share with my siblings,
But there isn’t even enough of these crumblings

And through the day I walk along the street,
Hoping I could find something I could eat.
My dirty hands scour through garbage bags
As I wipe them with my worn old rags.
And I try to satisfy the hunger and longing;
I look for this peaceful feeling of belonging.

When the heat of the sun above is scorching,
When my skin feels like some acid burning,
I sit down along the street, at the pavement,
Wishing I could just relax, even for a moment.
But I know I have so many things left to do,
Like beg and hope to earn enough for one or two.

When the rain suddenly pours upon my poor head,
I would gladly withstand it, if it meant I could get fed.
I would gladly drink its drops that fall on my face,
If only someone would also give me a warm embrace.
But my torn and ragged clothes are all that hug me,
Making my soul feel even more empty and chilly.

And through the day I walk along the street
Hoping I could find something I could eat
My dirty hands scour through garbage bags
As I wipe them with my worn old rags
And I try to satisfy the hunger and longing
I look for this peaceful feeling of belonging.

And now, the night has finally come,
I still yearn for food, and then some.
When I make my bed of old carton boxes,
I sleep with folks from different ages and sexes.
But we all share the same street, the same road.
In life, we all carry the same heavy load.

I finally lie down and stare up at the sky,
Thinking why my life is a fairy tale gone awry.
I should be at home like other kids my age,
But I am a bird that neither has the sky nor a cage.
I am just living my life on the streets you pass by;
I call out for help but no one ever hears my cry.

And through the day I walk along the street,
Hoping I could find something I could eat.
My dirty hands scour through garbage bags
As I wipe them with my worn old rags
And I try to satisfy the hunger and longing;
I look for this peaceful feeling of belonging.