I’m sure it’s hardly news to you guys that I derive amusement from the search terms that bring visitors to this blog. Case in point, this entire category. So when the one below showed up, I giggled a little:
Then it occurred to me, what if someone really was looking for a poem for their 9-year-old? What if they searched and browsed and scoured books and the WWW and were disappointed not to find it here? What if they went home at night and apologized to their dejected child and they both stayed up worrying all night, the parent racked with guilt and the child quaking in fright at his teacher’s reaction the next morning? And because I’m nothing if not a bleeding heart and carrier of guilt about everything from the loss of a Palestinian homeland to the crisis in Kashmir, I arrived at a decision. “This child shall have his poem!” I cried and stood up with righteous purpose. Quickly realizing that it’s easier to write in seated position, rear end made contact with couch, and I hammered away at faithful Adele.
Here they are, simple enough verses that should hopefully satisfy all concerned parties. As for me, I’ll sleep well tonight, knowing a little boy somewhere averted a nasty remark in his school diary.
P.S. Do they still have school diaries these days?
P.P.S. I didn’t get a single mean remark in my diary. Ever. Thank you for letting me
share boast share.
My Grandma’s Glasses
by Orange Jammies
My Grandma wears big glasses
They’re blurry, thick and round
I bet if I sat on them
They’d make a cracking sound
Like children on a play slide
They slip down her nose
And bounce along her bosom
Everywhere she goes
Grandma says they help her
To sew, to read, to knit
So whenever I hide them
She gently throws a fit
One afternoon I stuffed them
Under the cushions round
And laughed as Grandma looked and looked
Then sighed and groaned and frowned
She tried to make some cookies
And rolled out the dough
But instead of adding sugar
She tossed in salt—what do you know!
She attempted to be helpful
By washing all my socks
But strangely enough what got soaked
Was my stamps in their box!
I shrieked, I howled, I hopped around
In anger and in pain
Salty cookies and unwashed socks
Were driving me insane
I dug under the cushions
The same ones oh-so-round
And pulled out Grandma’s glasses
From underneath the mound
Take them, take them, I pleaded
Let my world be alright
I promised never to hide Grandma’s
Crucial guides to sight
The next morning I arose from bed
And smelled something bake
In my drawer were bright, clean socks
As many as I wished to take!
We had cookies for breakfast
They were a special treat
Especially because, no, only because
They were so very sweet
My Grandma she must love me
I saw a glimmer in her eye
When she announced as her glasses bounced
Our next treat: apple pie!
I make sure Grandma’s glasses
Stay firmly on her nose
This time it was cookies and socks
Next time, who knows?!