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The Bomb Went Boom

Come all ye closely, 'till I tell you a story. From Ireland long ago. 'Tis about a farmer. The season was done. The turf was home. Stacked against the gable. To fetch when he was able. The days became shorter. The nights became colder. But cosy was he, With his mug of tea. It gave him some bother. When the stack became smaller. And he figured a caller, is stealing from me. Smart as a fox, He opened his box, of dynamite sticks. To get at that P***k. He took out a sod, stuck the stick inside. Left it back on the stack. Puffed up with pride. Just as he predicted, in the next district, the bomb went boom. The neighbour was doomed.

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Bob Atkinson

Date: 11/27/2015 5:18:00 AM

Jean, your poem's quite good, don't change it. Impactful. Just hit me in the heart the shame of this fellow's hate and willingness to kill and maim over an idea which hurts humanity, and his belief that he's doing the moral thing. Woke me up fast, like a cold slap in the face. Good going.

Jean Murray
Date: 11/27/2015 5:39:00 AM

Why thank you again. "the bomb went boom" is actually a line from another poet. He challenged ne to write my story as a poem. The rest of the quote goes "like a kick to a whale in the balls". May I challenge you with that line??

Bob Atkinson

Date: 11/27/2015 4:20:00 AM

Pride Jean? Shame you mean?

Jean Murray
Date: 11/27/2015 4:42:00 AM

I know. I am wicked. The Irish are a funny lot that way. In fact ,the story went more like it was a tiny piece of dynamite. Just enough to scare the s***e out of the guilty party. Forgive my poetic licence Bob. Thank you for looking in.