But don't fear, there will be plenty of more stories to come this year on the blog. Like this week's post, a fun poem that I know everyone can relate to. It's even based on a true story. I don't know whose story it's based on, but I'm sure someone has gone through this. So without shrouding the poem in mystery any further, here it is!
Mother, I’ve
come to an important decision that I think you ought to know:
I’ve decided to
drop out of school and play bongos with my bro.
You always said
I should march to the beat of my drum, so that is what I’ll do.
I’ll go out and join
a band and attribute it to you.
I hope I haven’t
surprised you with this cool, sweet new job,
But if I have,
it’s okay to let out a good sob (it’ll make great song material).
We don’t have a
band name yet, but that will soon be changed
Since we’re
currently leaning toward Boys Who’ve Been Estranged.
A fitting title,
don’t you think, for men who have left home,
But soon we’ll
be back in our town in order to play The Dome.
I don’t know if you knew, but I’ve loved
the bongos since age six,
‘Cause that is
when drummer Uncle Greg came over and taught me his bag of tricks.
So since that
day I’ve been practicing like crazy day and night,
Because I knew
the day would come when my skills would find the light.
You might now
ask, “Son, why do you have to go leave school?”
Well, Mother,
the answer is, “I’ve just become way too cool.”
When I come to
visit next you might not recognize me at all;
My bandmates
told me that my hair needs to be as long as I am tall.
In a few years
I’ll say to you, “My band just started to do well,
And our new
record has begun to really sell.”
Then you’ll agree
that after years of starving for fame and success
That my bongo
playing in a band won’t be from youthful excess.
Money won’t come
easy for the first year or two,
But who needs
food when your band is tight as glue?
My hands might
be red from hitting drums all day,
But my songs
will allow me to say what I want to say.
Showers are not
too common when you’re touring on the road,
So don’t be
surprised if I come back stinking like a toad.
If we don’t have
a gig one day I’ve heard we might not get fed,
And that often I
won’t even get to sleep in a real bed.
Actually, come
to think of it, bongos are a silly instrument,
So for this speech I will now have to go and thoroughly repent.
No comments:
Post a Comment