The Disobedient Son Poem by Randy McClave

He doesn't do what he is told
So I scold and scold and scold and scold
All his actions get so daring and so very bold
He now talks back to his peers and the old,
He doesn't respect his father nor his mother
He is told one thing and of course he does the other
To find one like him there can't be another
So happy I am that he has not a brother,
He does not listen and he will not obey
As though he hears not the words that I say
Because of him my nerves are shot and my hair is gray
I feel not like a parent, but more like his prey,
Whatever I ask him to do he always refuses
Whatever he wants to do he alone chooses
In my mind and heart he's given bumps and bruises
My pleading to him, to him it just amuses,
'One day' I scream, 'you will have your own child”
“And I hope because of you that he too is wild”
Sadly to think of his actions now I just get riled
But I pray someday that we are reconciled,
Sometimes him I wish that I could only shun
With him I have thrown up my hands as I am done
I would gladly give him away to the police or a nun
As he indeed, is the disobedient son.