Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2020
I love to go walking, at least once a day
And see what I stumble across on my way
I can cover hills and valleys, forests and fields
To unearth what treasure the next stroll yields

Yesterday my amble took me a brand new way
Through an old wood with a black stream I did stray
I came across a boy with a face grimaced in concentration
A child in this ****** place, aroused my determination.

I said ‘Hey boy why are you so far from home?’
‘Please good sir you must leave me alone’
Then I noticed how tightly he clenched his fist
And knew he must have a treasure to add to my list.

I picked up the boy and grabbed his wrist
I shook it vigorously to open that fist,
Then I attacked his fingers and commenced to pry
From the boy not a whimper, a whisper or sigh.

‘Child I demand you open and reveal what’s in your hand’
‘There’s nothing sir not even a grain of sand’
The sheer cheek of the runt was simply astounding
I would open that paw if it meant giving him a pounding.

That’s just what I did, the boy got a seeing to
I slapped him and kicked him threatened to boil him in stew,
Swung him over my head and dashed him to the floor
No matter what manner of violence the scamp took more.

Exhausted and demoralised I screamed at the brat
‘Show me what you have and let that be that’
‘Please, it’s noting sir as I’ve said before
You can kick me and hit me and throw me to the floor’

Then I remembered, in my belt a small knife
I decided to cut off that mitt and end this strife,
Off at the wrist, open the fingers to look in the hand
The boy wasn’t lying, not even a grain of sand.

After all that effort and a day with no pleasure
I refused to feel down at the lack of treasure,
Next time you’re near to my house you must call
And I’ll show you the hand nailed firmly to the wall.
Written by
Paul McMahon
374
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems