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The wooden bowl

Poetry By: thesadisticsheep
Classics



This a poetic version of the wooden bowl- one of my favourite short stories.
Please comment :)


Submitted:Feb 19, 2011    Reads: 416    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   


Set in the olden days,
When life was simple,
And the so called better people,
Had their ways.

An old man lived,
With a family of four,
Whom believed,
The old man was a chore.

Whenever they ate,
He would often break,
The cups and plates,
To leave quite a mess.

The adults whom he lived,
Where his childs,
He raised them well,
He let them live a life.

But close to his final days,
The couple grew annoyed,
They put him the corner,
So he wouldn't get in the way.

They made a wooden bowl,
So if it were to fall,
It wouldn't smash,
And wouldn't break at all.

A little boy lived with em,
The grandchild of the man,
His mind was young and simple,
And often saw the best.

He saw the old man with the bowl,
Stuck in the dark corner,
He saw a tear run through the old man's eyes,
And he felt heart sympathy.

A few days had passed,
Since the grandpa was lost,
Trapped in a corner,
No guilt it cost.

A parent found the boy,
Chipping away,
On a piece of wood,
He had found astray.

What are you doing?
Asked the dad,
Inquisitively.
The boy kept chipping.

Answer me!
The boy turned his head,
Looked into dad's eyes,
The words he said.
Were a surprise.

I'm making a bowl,
From just wood,
Like grandpa's one,
Not just because I could.

I was making it for you,
When I grow up.
He then stopped talking.
And chipped again without adieu.

The man stood there,
Speechless,
Amazed.
Then suddenly,
From regret and fear,
On his face,
formed a tear.

It was from then on,
The adults let him dine,
Not in his corner,
So lonely and bare.
But with the family,
who nurtured and care.

They didn't moan,
When the food was dropped,
They didn't groan,
When a plate was smashed.
They smiled and gave him another one.
Didn't complain.
Complete disdain.
The old man,
Lived til he was happy.





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