Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2016
Do we remember John?
He was what we'd call a Simpleton,
Back when we were young.
He stood in his brown cloth coat,
Carried a notepad and a pen,
We suspected he had half a tongue,
Making notes on roadside lawns,
Near every manhole.
John was busy inside his head,
We never got a word he said.
Who was John before John was dead?

Did you know Stanley?
We didn't see him much.
He'd appear in the hood on holidays.
Probably went to New Hope School,
Where he was kept.
Stanley swore a lot,
He threw snot, drooled and spit at us.
We poked fun, and provoked,
Felt blameless,
For Stanley's condition was kept from us.
And not because of colour.
Francie Lynch
Written by
Francie Lynch
Please log in to view and add comments on poems