My Vuvuzela

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This highly contraversial musical instrument, a produce of
South Africa, featured during the World Cup Soccer Tournament hit the headlines during 2010. I just had to
put it to verse.

Submitted: January 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 08, 2012



My Vuvuzela


I bought a Vuvuzela from my local hardware store,

I took it home and blew it hard outside my neighbors door,

Somehow he didn`t like the sound, perhaps I blew off-key?

He took my Vuvuzela and threw it up a tree.


I love my Vuvuzela, and I played it for my wife,

One blast was all it took for her to threaten me my life,

It woke our sleeping baby, our Aunt and Uncle Ned,

Now I`m sleeping in the garage, cos she threw me out of bed.


I keep my Vuvuzela in the cupboard `neath the stairs,

It’s the only place I practice, among the books and broken chairs.

I`m learning to read music, because I want to get ahead,

And I`m hoping that the Missus will invite me back to bed!


I took my Vuvuzela to a local fashion show,

I thought I`d teach the models on the catwalk how to blow.

Modelling bikini`s in the cold… well it really can be rough,

One long blast of my Vuvuzela, left the girls all in the buff.


I played my Vuvuzela for my Aunt and Uncle Seth,

And by the time I`d finished both complained that they`d gone deaf.

It`s not the mournful tone it plays and leaves us all aghast,

Its that feeling of exuberance that creates a fearful blast!


We need a Vuvuzela like the  air we need  to breathe,

Its something we can`t do without, whenever we feel peeved,

Grip tight your Vuvuzela, and give it one great blow,

That worried frown comes crashing down, like the walls of Jericho.



Geoffrey Kennell ©


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