This is a true story, I was the oldest in line....
“Go To Hell”
One day,
my mother took us all to the mall
A trail of her children all in a row
Her belly was showing, two toddlers at bow,
with three in the middle, ‘bout equally sowed
and then there was me, the oldest in line
When approached by a hag with a opinion to rag
“Who do you think you are?,
You polluter of the earth
How dare you squander the idea of birth
I was shocked at her boldness and dauntless dare
and then to my knees I fell
“Why don’t you go to hell ”,
I heard my mother swear
“Why don’t you go to hell ”, she said,
“There are no children there ”
This is a wonderful poem, Kimmy. It's message of narrow-mindedness is nice and clear. Having grown up the oldest of six children, I often heard similar things said. One elderly neighbor woman said, "Why don't you take ALL those KIDS and move to a FARM ..." (sigh) ... and we were good kids.
I enjoyed this poem very much and God bless your mother for her comeback!
Love,
CJ
Hey there! I"m Bill Broome (F. William, here) I like you and that great big family in which you grew up. This offering is priceless. I would have liked your mother. What a ga ! ! ! This is a new retort for me, and I just might use it.
Your work is exceptional - as you are, apparently. Mother hen, artist, spokesperson for good, and I lost track of all those businesses you help to succeed. Wow! You are admired.
- Bill
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I enjoyed this poem very much and God bless your mother for her comeback!
Love,
CJ
Your work is exceptional - as you are, apparently. Mother hen, artist, spokesperson for good, and I lost track of all those businesses you help to succeed. Wow! You are admired.
- Bill