Runnin' through the strawberry fields
The fields of Leeganin
In the body of a little girl
Only about waist high
She wears a smooth dress that flaps in the wind
Her bright red curls bounce with her bounds
A little boy watches her
Unknowing about the future
Maybe one day they'll marry and have punnets full of children
Maybe one day she'll stomp and smother his heart like a stream of smoke
But until that fateful day, I'll sit and wait
Runnin' through the strawberry fields
Categories:
punnets, child, future, marriage,
Form: Free verse
When I was young
And felt a little glum
My Mum would cheer me
With a plum.
I began to eat them daily,
Demolishing entire punnets
With aplomb.
How I loved those big, fat,
Red-purple fruit bombs
Juicing between my lips,
Never failing to elicit
A contented ‘Yum!’
But one night after
Dinner my Mum
Offered me a yellow one.
I turned my head
And mouthed disgust
At the pale, pus-like
Imitation of my habitual
Fruity dream feast.
This fruit was diseased.
I refused to feed.
I snubbed that sickly grub.
My mother paused,
Then held her breath,
Turning black
Like an overripe plum.
“You know what your problem is,”
She cried. “You’re racist!”
Then she took the entire
Crate of plums and pelted
Me until I was welted
With plum coloured bruises.
“You see, discoloured plums
Still have their uses!”
Now I am grown up
And Minister for Equal Opportunities.
On a celebrity reality TV show
They hooked me up
To a lie detector machine
And asked me if I had
Ever been racist.
I blushed (like a plum).
Categories:
punnets, humor, humorous, mum,
Form: Free verse