A poem: by my son

My son wrote a poem, which I thought was a brilliant effort from a 7-year-old. He did it at school, the result of an onomatopoeia exercise. I beamed with pride when he first recited it to me. When we returned home with our brand new iPad yesterday, I got him to type out the poem on it.

A stranger called This Morning  dressed all in black and grey ,
Put every sound into a bag and carried them away.

Woof went the dog,
Oink went the pig,
Moo went the cow,
Squelch went the mud.

Choo choo went the train as I go to work,
Tick went the computer,
Crunch went the apple as I start to eat it,
Chat went the people and they all say “Beat it!”

A stranger called This Morning,
He didn’t leave his name,
Left us only silence,
Life will never be the same.

10 Comments

  1. I am not surprised you are proud. You have every right to be! I grew up with poets for parents (both of them). We were surrounded by poetry throughout our lives – books, recitals, readings and bits of paper with scribblings.

    This is brilliant. Well constructed, beautifully thought out and insightful – forget that he’s just seven. It is really good. Period. x

    • That’s such a lovely comment. Thank you so much. I thought it was fantastic too and very surprised to hear the words tumble out of my son.

    • Thank you! I’m trying to collect stuff he’s written and drawn to turn into a little book later on. Maybe it could be his 21st birthday present??!

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