The Box - Poem by Anonymous Works
Once upon a time in the land of Hushabye round about the wondrous days of yore. They came across a sort of box. Bound up with chains and locked with locks and labeled kindly do not touch, it's war.
A decree was issued round about all with a flourish and a shore and gayly colored mascot tripping lightly on before, don't fiddle with this deadly box or break it's chains or pick it's locks, and please don't ever play about with war.
Well the children understood. Children happen to be good and just as good around the days of yore. They didn't try to pick the locks or break into the deadly box they never tried to play about war. Mommies didn't either, sisters, aunts or grannies neither. Because they were sweet and quiet and gentle in those wondrous days of yore. Just as much the same as now they arn't the ones to blame somehow for opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did.
Someone battered in the lid and spilled the insides out across the floor.
A sort of bouncy bumpy ball made up of flags and guns and all with the cheers and the horrors and the death that go with war. Well it bounced right out and went bashing all about and bumping into everything in store, and what was said most unfair was that it didn't really seem to care much who it bumped, or what or why or for. It bumped the children mainly, and I tell you this quiet plainly It bumps them every day and more and more, and leaves them dead and burnt and dying cause when it bumps it's very very sore. There is a way to stop this ball. It isn't very hard at all. All you need is WISDOM and I'm absolutley sure we could get it back into the box and bind the chains and lock the locks. BUT no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well that's the way it all appears because it's been bouncing around for years and years inspite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wonderous days of yore and the time they came across the box bound up with chains and locked with locks and labeled "KINDLY DO NOT TOUCH IT'S WAR."
This poem came from the Smother's brothers comedy hour back in the early seventies.
Comments about The Box by Anonymous Works
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You