03/10/2013 Poetry - Jane Prowse 2


“Give me a drink,” the little boy said to the waitress of his local coffee shop,

Passing, one sweltering summer’s day.

“Get lost, squirt” she snapped, nearly knocking off his baseball hat,

As she waved her laden hands his way.

He and the waitress had never got along,

Ever since he accidentally tripped on her sarong,

Shuzoko was Japanese, you see,

and very serene except when some kid

made her flip her lid.

“Just water’ll do, I’m thirsty, you mean old bag,”

He yelled, 

Then regretted his words, 

as she grabbed his ear, and propelled 

Him unceremoniously onto the street...


Views: 71

Comment by Stefany Anne on October 3, 2013 at 3:16

He woke up some time later,

To find that he had

A long, nasty gash

The same colour as that sash

That the waitress wore.

From the coffee shop,

Dragging his leg like a mop,

He slowly limped away.

“Whatever happened!” Mum shrieked

The gash burned through her eyes

Jamie’s mouth was full of lies

And that is what he told

“I tripped and fell on the street

Landed in a hole that was deep”

Mum ushered him inside

“Call the hospital!” Jamie cried

Mom frantically dialing and pressing

Picking up the phone and yelling

“Help!  Help! My son is injured!”

“We’ll be right there, miss,”

And they were there in a jiff

Lying him down on the stretcher

They pulled him into the waiting van

Then taking off as fast as they can

The Hospital was big and tall,

Touching the sky

It was white and red,

Towering above the young boy’s head.

Wheeled inside, into a room

Doctor came and inspected him

“It’s not serious

It is just a wound

When you claimed you

Fell to your doom

That can’t be true.”

“What really happened?” enquired  Mum

Jamie hesitates, sucks in a breath

Looks down at the floor, and says


I’ll tell you the truth,

I was hit by a bike

While I was trying

To buy a tasty pike.”

“I never knew you liked fish.”

“Course I do, It’s my favourite dish.”

Mum looks sceptical, gives her son a look

“You sure ‘bout this boy?” she asks.

Doctor doesn’t really know what’s going on

Nurse has her placid look on.

“That sounds fishy.” The doctor remarks

Iyad Mohamed and Jia-En Ho, Garden International School, KL, Malaysia

Comment by Anne-Lise Robin on October 3, 2013 at 8:48

It can’t be true

The doctor pressed on claiming it couldn’t be true.

“With a wound like that what exactly did you do?”

That’s what the doctor said as the young boy bowed his head,

Aware that his dishonesty was shining through.

It can’t be true

The young boy thought back to the waitress he had angered,

As he tried to tell the truth he slightly stammered.

“I-I just wanted a drink,” attempting to make himself sound innocent,

When he knew better than anyone he provoked the incident.

It can’t be true

Like the eye of a hawk, his mother watched him intently

As she waited, anticipated expectantly

As he told his fabricated version to the doctor and his mother

His mother scolded him as he sought refuge under the hospital bed cover.

It can’t be true

He was as transparent as glass, his mother could see through his pack of lies

No matter how he tried, he had no disguise

Lied that he tried to get a tasty pike

H e couldn’t deceive this woman she knew what he liked

It can’t true.

Blessing Aroboto, Bacon's College

Comment by Annalise Taylor on October 3, 2013 at 9:45

then Jamie started thinking of a ingenious lie

5 minutes passed and there was silence in the room

10 minutes passed and the room was still quite

suddenly Jamie jumped and said

“mum you know I am as good as gold and that this time I promise am  not going to lie this is what  truly happened : I was walking from school to home and my tummy started grumbling

grim grum grim

I could not wait any more i was too hungry so I decided to go to the woods near by to pick some blackberries

then when I was walking through the woods and gigantic dog came to attack me .”

so mum replied “is that true Jamie or its another of  your ingenious lies?”

“you know I “always” tell the truth mum.”

Gloria and Mohammad Ali, International Community School, London

Comment by Nicola Gowing on October 3, 2013 at 10:48

But it wasn’t the truth

It was transparent lies

Shoddily disguised with

A boy’s tell-tale eyes

That are showing them

A web of libels

They know his secret

But nobody tells

The boy with

Skinny wrists

Who talks in his sleep

For ignorance is bliss

And his innocence

Once lost is

Lost forever

And all he needs is

A new start

Or paint, to

Go over the blot

In a striking ecru

That stains the

Bedroom wall

Of his childhood memories

And that is all

But still he cannot

Sleep in peace

For that waitress

And all her dishonesties

Must be awake

And wondering why

A juvenile lad

Could make her cry

For the job

She worked long

To do good at

Thought it wrong

That the manners

Of a thirsty kid

Could provoke abuse

So they had to get rid

Of her lopsided smiles

To Sunday

Morning customers

Who, let’s say

Needed that sort

Of thing

When times got hard

A ring

When they entered

Through the door

With pains written

For evermore

On their drawn


Describing the

Dark places

They had been to

But the soul

Of the Chinese

Coffee shop girl

Can cure a thousand


With one reticent glance

The broken shards

Come together

Like fathoming stars

Into constellations

Above an eddying Mars

Jasmine Gibbs, Great Yarmouth High School, Norfolk

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