Fall is coming
leaves are turning
birds are chirping
fire is burning
cold is grasping
summer’s riding away.
~ Joseph ~
The above poem was composed this afternoon by my son during a break from his schoolwork. The poem started as his suggested verses to me. While watching him do his work, I struggled to write. After learning about my topic, he offered me some verses for my consideration. I looked at him hard. My reluctant writer boy is making a poem without him knowing it. I encouraged him to continue telling him at the same time that his words will be credited as his own work, not mine. I was surprised that he did not resist the task when normally, composition lessons often ended up as a battle royale between us. When he was done, we arranged the verses a bit. He was pleased with the result, and is I may say so, proud of his work. He let me post his poem here with a little reminder to me about his copyright. 😉 I guess, he is learning about that too.
I think he is a pretty good writer, as long as he does not think about how physically tiring writing is, among others. Here is another of his poem that he wrote last schoolyear in his poetry class:
Wacky Walter spilled a mud bucket
mud flowed all the way to the arctic
he rolled in the mud to chase it
and now he looks like
a pile of dirt.
He’s blabbering – loud and noisy
and smelled like a sock-
oh so stinky
Thenceforth, he tasted sour and salty
and if you touch him
you’ll be all sticky.
Thank you for coming over. Have a great day.