Pub Chatter Poetry Prompts

the hand on my shoulder (chickenteeth)

Pub Chatter 4th Edition - November 19, 2017 - Prompt #2 - Write a poem about your favorite bedtime story.

the hand on my shoulder

"Gal, you best stop that screech'n and start in to scrub'n!"

"I don't wanna take a bath! "

"Best get to it young'n, else you'll sure git a drub'n! "

"I DON'T WANNA TAKE A BATH! "

"MISSY...AIN'T KID'N.... GIT IN THAT TUB AND START SUDS'N!!"

"If I get in the tub, will you bring me a cookie? "

"Nope, you don't git no cookie! "

"If I get in the tub, will you tell me a story?"

"No!...you don't git no story!"

"WON'T GET IN THAT Tub! ... I'LL RUN AWAY... I'LL LIVE WITH FAIRIES!"

................. Splash! .....................

"I HATE YOU!... MONSTER! MONSTER!

YOU'RE GONNA BE SORRY!

I'LL TELL GRANDADDY YOU CUSSED TODAY!"

"QUIET! ...

NOW!

LET

Me

get

your

feet..."

The old man said, through grit'n teeth,

His head bowed into the watery fray.

The battle continued, she wailed, unresigned

While the old man fought toe-jam and ear dirt and grime.

Then he checked her for ticks - as he patted her down.

"There! That's done...here, wildchild... here's your nightgown."

Red-faced and tear-wet, she raised her arms high

"This one's itchy! .. I won't sleep!... I'LL STAY UP ALL NIGHT! "

"Be still! " said the old man. "and stop your dang wriggle'n

I can't get you covered, long's you keep up that wiggle'n!

You're as mean, tonight, as a snap'n turtle.

Gal, you're so fractious you could turn a Saint purple! "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A hiccup escaped the tiny demon.

And, with one last sad entreaty,

Fought gainst give'n in to sleep'n..

"Uncle Ned... please... I need me a story. "

"No more fight'n ... now be a good girl. Get under the covers - here is BearBear."

"Uncle Ned!... where's Earl of Squirrel?"

"Shush it! Now settle down under there!

Hear the night train come'n from Richmond? ... it's whistle ain't lonesome when it sings out for you.

And the owl's hooty-hoot?

Be still now and listen!...

He's hunt'n for a snack of tasty mouse foot...

Sweet, sleepy child

Hear your friend, whip-poor-will? ...

He's tell'n you...

Time to sleep, little girl.

Time for my wildchild to slow down and rest...

You've given today all the fight that you've got

It's time, little bird, to dream in your nest."

His scarred hand rubbed my shoulder...

While we listened together...

The story of love so deep and so glorious

That only the night sounds

Can speak it to us.

©Naomi Marshall 2017