Monday 15 October 2012

Godson

I don't want to go to school.
I hate working.
I just want to play.
I don't care if I get kicked out.
I dont know why I punched him
and smeared my pear in his face.
You made me mad.
You threw my pop out of the van.
You took the fork out of my hand
because I was running.
I would hit you but you're too big
and you hit back.
I don't have to look at you,
but when I do, I feel better.
I don't want to listen!
I don't have to listen!
I don't want to go to bed!
I don't want to be alone.
Sorry! Okay! I'm sorry!
Sorry.
I want a hug.
Will you read me a story?
Please sleep here.
I'm scared.


2 comments:

  1. Absolutely love the way the word choices pare this poem down to the reality of a little kid -- and his/her complex relationship with the godfather!

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  2. Awwww. Reminds me of my son.

    My Godson is still quite the little charmer. Doesn't know yet about smashing fruit in other children's faces.

    The cadence here... love it.

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