When my 13-year-old son asked for a pencil and paper while we were on the road at Live Oak Plantation, I assumed he was going to draw something. He’s the artist in the family. He came back just a few moments later and handed me this poem. He said, “It just popped into my head.” All I could do was smile, because that’s how the silly poems I write happen with me as well. Silly poems just happen, or they don’t. You haven’t seen one here in a while because one hasn’t “popped” into my head.
So this one is not mine. This is what my son handed me.
Hours are going by me fast
Two minutes just passed
One second is in the back
No. Now he’s in the front of the pack
2:00 is the real cheater
He ties 3:00 to a the street meter
In the end 3:00 wants revenge
So he grabs a rope and chair
And ties 2:00 up to give him a scare
Then he knocks him on the ground
Laughing all around
And snickers as he walks away
June 29, 2008