J
Jerry
Guest
This was the first poem I wrote for the forum, in fact it was my first poem full stop. I'd always wanted to try my hand at writing but never had the spare time until now.
Not exactly a literary milestone but I think not too bad for a first effort
I don't know if this is the right forum for what you are about to receive, the gods on high will soon let me know if it isn't, Just thought I'd cheer you all up with this poem wot I wrote
When I was a tot I dreaded the days  when we went to the Rag Market Hall
Mum would call “ Get yer coat on “ and I never got to vote on if we should go there at all.
On the bus we would jump, me with the hump, and mum not a care or a cloud,
As the Markets grew near I was gripped with great fear at the thought of  that jostling crowd
From the bus we’d alight and I’d cringe at the sight of those shoppers in hordes like an army
They’d  fight tooth and nail for the bargains on sale, if you ask me the whole lot were barmy.
At the entrance we’d stand while mum grabbed my hand in a grip that would strangle an ox
Up the first aisle we’d whirl, past the carrier girl and some bloke breaking plates on a box.
Through the throng Mum would fight whilst holding on tight to my hand so I wouldn’t get lost,
Stopping here, stopping there, buying clothes, kitchen ware and arguing over the cost
Stop at this stall, at that, buy a jumper, a hat, mum would drag me from pillar to post
Toes crushed, bruised and battered, shell shocked, senses shattered, I was ready to give up the ghost.
Then, at last we’d emerge from that terrible surge, just in time, I was starting to swoon.
“Never mind son, we’ve had lots of fun, when the bus comes we’ll be home real soon “
At home, from her bag, mum starts sorting the swag. Some socks and a shirt for our kid
Some cakes for our tea and a jumper for me, not bad for a couple of quid.
“Try that jumper on son and see if it suits while I put on the kettle for tea”
“you can wear it for school and I’ll shine up your boots and you’ll look like a toff wait and see.
“The jumper don’t fit” I started to bawl “and it’s your fault” I shouted to Mother,
“You dragged me so much round that damned Market Hall I’ve got one arm that’s longer than t’other
The Bitter End
ÂÂ
Not exactly a literary milestone but I think not too bad for a first effort
I don't know if this is the right forum for what you are about to receive, the gods on high will soon let me know if it isn't, Just thought I'd cheer you all up with this poem wot I wrote
When I was a tot I dreaded the days  when we went to the Rag Market Hall
Mum would call “ Get yer coat on “ and I never got to vote on if we should go there at all.
On the bus we would jump, me with the hump, and mum not a care or a cloud,
As the Markets grew near I was gripped with great fear at the thought of  that jostling crowd
From the bus we’d alight and I’d cringe at the sight of those shoppers in hordes like an army
They’d  fight tooth and nail for the bargains on sale, if you ask me the whole lot were barmy.
At the entrance we’d stand while mum grabbed my hand in a grip that would strangle an ox
Up the first aisle we’d whirl, past the carrier girl and some bloke breaking plates on a box.
Through the throng Mum would fight whilst holding on tight to my hand so I wouldn’t get lost,
Stopping here, stopping there, buying clothes, kitchen ware and arguing over the cost
Stop at this stall, at that, buy a jumper, a hat, mum would drag me from pillar to post
Toes crushed, bruised and battered, shell shocked, senses shattered, I was ready to give up the ghost.
Then, at last we’d emerge from that terrible surge, just in time, I was starting to swoon.
“Never mind son, we’ve had lots of fun, when the bus comes we’ll be home real soon “
At home, from her bag, mum starts sorting the swag. Some socks and a shirt for our kid
Some cakes for our tea and a jumper for me, not bad for a couple of quid.
“Try that jumper on son and see if it suits while I put on the kettle for tea”
“you can wear it for school and I’ll shine up your boots and you’ll look like a toff wait and see.
“The jumper don’t fit” I started to bawl “and it’s your fault” I shouted to Mother,
“You dragged me so much round that damned Market Hall I’ve got one arm that’s longer than t’other
The Bitter End
ÂÂ
