Babysitter Poem by Martin O'Neill

Babysitter

Rating: 3.9


Shooting and bombing
And slashing and kicking
And burning and beating
And stomping and killing
And maiming and hurting
And knifing and punching
And dancing
Arms raised
Over the fallen
Broken bodies
Of his foes
On the other side of the Windows
Where Mummy doesn't go.
She's drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc downstairs
While her well behaved boy
Plays in his room, alone.
The babysitter isn't programmed
To care
As a childhood withers
On the untended vine
Of conversation
And connection.
He's caught the 4.0 Armageddon
Universal Serial Bus
To a place where
Darker fruit grows.
Try not to weep
As you reap
What you sow.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Emily Core 06 January 2009

it is little dark but thats why i like it at frist i thought it was about the war but at the end i understood it

0 0 Reply
John Brown 03 September 2012

Intriguing poem Martin, which I liked. I wrote one myself called 'The Babysitter', but it's nothing like this one. Just shows the amount of imagination flying around.

0 0 Reply
Patti Masterman 30 March 2012

Wow, deep stuff going on in here, and it's pretty true I imagine, depending on circumstance. Would make a wonderful song too, I keep thinking..an original idea, or one of which are getting harder to find, day by day.

0 0 Reply
Tom Higgins 13 March 2012

Streets are full of them! Well thought out piece of writing. Tom

0 0 Reply
Elena Sandu 07 February 2012

For the first part of this poem I couldn't help it, needed to move my body on its rhythm as for the second, deep thoughts kept me frozen. Amazing write, pure delight, thank you for share.

0 0 Reply
AJ Ryan 27 January 2012

Unusual but excellent at the same time, well done

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Martin O'Neill

Martin O'Neill

Solihull, Birmingham, England
Close
Error Success