Step Dad

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  • Childhood

    Step Dad

    The day grows long
    As a subtle beat pounds,
    A bead of my sweat falls to the ground.

    The crops need picked,
    The crops need plowed,
    A bead of my sweat falls to the ground

    The river looks cool as a gentle breeze blows,
    Slowly I sneak away from these rows,

    My step dad yells,
    I trip over my feet,
    Here he comes,
    I am gonna get beat.

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    poetrylover123 commented on Step Dad

    03-06-2009

    DANG!!! That was awesome man!!!

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    jnony’s Poems (3)

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