Sunday, November 18, 2012

Poetry, I'm having a break from gardening posts, but not for long so be warned.

About a Cockroach


A cockroach is climbing up the wall

into the kitchen after a night of thunder.

You call me in to see and I explain

that it would be sad to leave it there:

it might fall into the soup;

We must take care

that no-one eats it.

You pick it up in a handi towel

and carry it outside,

to hide it in the wood pile.


I see then that a kind of faith prevails:

your gentleness is moulded still by words

from me,

who has squashed small ants,

lied to your teacher and snapped at your  

That is how things are,

I am your father

 and we are kind to cockroaches.  
By Janet Keen
 An adaptation of  another nz poet's famous poem.

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