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Sticks and Stones by John Hofmeyr

Poetry Potion | March 10th, 2015 | a poem a day challenge, poetry | No Comments

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[tab id=1]Inspector came to school, Mother. He asked them about me.
What did Inspector ask, Child?

He asked about attendance Mother; why I came not to school.
Saw he not the club-foot, Child?

I told him of the club-foot, Mother, and the pain to walk to school.
It surely is a heavy thing, my Child.

I told the same Inspector of the stones they threw at me.
What did Inspector say, Child?

He asked after the throwers of the stones they threw at me.
What did you say, Child?

I said not, for I fear them, those that threw the stones at me.
It is a heavy thing, Child.

I heard Inspector say, Mother, and another to another.
What did he say, and another, Child?

Fatalistic. He said ” … fatalistic … “, Mother. What kind of stick is that?
It is a grown-up word; worry not for now, Child.

Fatal! It means dying Mother. Is it a stick for killing?
Fear not. It is the will of the spirits, Child.

Do they know how they kill me with their laughing, Mother?
Eish! Do they know, Child?[/tab]
[tab id=2]John is a chemist by training, pushed into retirement earlier than he wished. His career was entirely in technology -intensive industries but he likes to play with words. Writing is nevertheless secondary to his interest in renewable energy and related ‘green’ technologies.[/tab]

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