Not Sylivia Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Not Sylvia

Once again, her Dad, mine
-of mine I, am proud.

He was not "Black Shoe"
-I breathed and Achooed.

Unlike hers my dad was
-vastly rich and learned; a sky.

Dad could and did lift his tall foe and
-slammed him on ground; on chest,
-he pushed poop in his mouth
-to give him a prize for insult…
-But with me, kept cool, was logical,
-when meaning to teach son
-to behave correctly; as do wise.

He knew of me as the lad who
-had muscles; was very powerful
-to slam and smash enemy; as he did…

Intended to teach me other ways;
-so, he found the right day among days.

Trapped me with smile; jokingly:
- "Have ever walked behind the donkeys
-when loaded, mass of them, heavily? "

With my "Yes" he added: "old and weak,
-climbing steep hill! "

"Did you pay attention? "
-All the way I smiled like a bud.
-Yes, I had, saw donkeys.
- old and weak, heard "Farting! "

"And what was your reply? "
-of course: "None…"

He, therefore, had reached peak:
- "Some people act the same! "