This was a response to last Wednesday's prompt from Poetic Asides - write about cruelty.
He was overweight, wore glasses,
Boys would tease him at recess.
Once they snatched away his hat,
Hid it, mocked him, called him fat...
Then had enough. A wild bunch,
They tossed it on a tree branch.
I was there. I saw all that.
When they left, I fetched his hat.
I smiled, and my smile was lame:
It was nothing, but a game.
I’ll never forget his eyes,
They accused, and they despised.
I was one of ‘them’ – the mob –
That would bully, torture, rob…
My fear to help was their fuel.
I was every bit as cruel.
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
I understand and am saddened by this.ReplyDelete
Bullying is an awful thing.ReplyDelete
wow heartfelt and well doneReplyDelete
Thank you, Hope.ReplyDelete
This is so sad!ReplyDelete
Quite common, though, unfortunately..Delete
Very well expressed!ReplyDelete
Thank you, Mary.Delete
A humbling read. Perhaps cathartic for the one who was a part of the bunch. Nicely organized and well rhymed.ReplyDelete
Thank you for your comment, Kim.Delete
Bullying is an awful thing, Sasha. Nicely put together poem.ReplyDelete
btw, I hope you know I was joking over at Margo's.:-)
I do, Pamela, don't worry about it!Delete
Thank you for the comment, and good luck with 'symbolic metaphors' and 'metaphoric symbols'! :-)
powerful highlight on bully,ReplyDelete
Thank you, Taylor.Delete
a very humble piece... truth and personal emotions brings wonderful poetry. I respect you for writing this and wearing your heart on your sleeve!ReplyDelete
Thank you. It happened years and years ago, but I remember it well.ReplyDelete