Nettles Poem by Vernon Scannell

Nettles

Rating: 3.0


My son aged three fell in the nettle bed.
'Bed' seemed a curious name for those green spears,
That regiment of spite behind the shed:
It was no place for rest. With sobs and tears
The boy came seeking comfort and I saw
White blisters beaded on his tender skin.
We soothed him till his pain was not so raw.
At last he offered us a watery grin,
And then I took my billhook, honed the blade
And went outside and slashed in fury with it
Till not a nettle in that fierce parade
Stood upright any more. And then I lit
A funeral pyre to burn the fallen dead,
But in two weeks the busy sun and rain
Had called up tall recruits behind the shed:
My son would often feel sharp wounds again.


Submitted by Andrew Mayers

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Aaron Hicks 12 June 2012

I LOVE THIS POEM SO MUCH! ! ! : dd

114 123 Reply
Marissa Fujimaki 11 March 2013

This poem really inspired me to enlist in the war. But I am now leggless, so it does not inspire me anymore. NO ONE READ THIS POEM.

60 109 Reply
Marissa Fujimaki 11 March 2013

Aaron Hicks, you are very sad.

45 108 Reply
Dear John 11 October 2021

Marissa you little bully. Why are you even here?

2 1 Reply
Marissa Fujimaki 11 March 2013

Aaron Hicks, you are very sad.

42 106 Reply
deeznut 12 May 2022

love it 12 may 2022

0 0 Reply
fin 22 March 2022

its absalouteshite

1 0 Reply
dan 22 March 2022

its

1 0 Reply
GS 26 January 2022

I LOVE THIS POEM

1 0 Reply
James 16 December 2020

i have a and its hard

0 1 Reply
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