Flash Poetry #8: No props to Junior
by 
Cailleachna
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Posted: 04 April 2006 Word Count: 162 Summary: Go somewhere you can eavesdrop on people (preferably without getting arrested). Try to pick up sound bites to put in your notebook. When you get home, take one of these odd phrases and write a short free-form poem around what you have heard. Use it as your title, opening line, or finishing flourish, or just the gem around which your story develops. (Taken from the BBC Get Writing website.) |
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No props to Junior! Get it right next time, will you?
from a young boy walking a dog; overheard while walking along my street
He's only seven to Martin's nine,
watching his brother's hands on the rod;
his cast well-aimed and sure,
hitting the spot he pointed at with ease.
"Junior" feels outclassed already,
wincing at the scorn in Martin's voice,
aching from the lack of understanding.
Why can't he say it doesn't matter?
He's tried the cast six times already -
Martin's one step from taking the rod away.
Surely the fish are not the point here?
He just wants some time with his brother.
Frustration bubbles up and he nearly
shouts his anger to the sky.
One more dig, and the next one's going
across your face, leave me alone.
But it hits the water with a satisfying slap;
the lure bobs out of sight, then back.
"Hey, well done!" and as Martin smiles,
sudden joy cements this new skill.
from a young boy walking a dog; overheard while walking along my street
He's only seven to Martin's nine,
watching his brother's hands on the rod;
his cast well-aimed and sure,
hitting the spot he pointed at with ease.
"Junior" feels outclassed already,
wincing at the scorn in Martin's voice,
aching from the lack of understanding.
Why can't he say it doesn't matter?
He's tried the cast six times already -
Martin's one step from taking the rod away.
Surely the fish are not the point here?
He just wants some time with his brother.
Frustration bubbles up and he nearly
shouts his anger to the sky.
One more dig, and the next one's going
across your face, leave me alone.
But it hits the water with a satisfying slap;
the lure bobs out of sight, then back.
"Hey, well done!" and as Martin smiles,
sudden joy cements this new skill.
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