A Poem About My Uncle
A Poem About my Uncle
by Daniel Nicoloso
My dear old Uncle Howard,
He’s quite a camera guy.
You must beware that look,
That he gets into his eye.
It’s the sign it’s time to fly, fly, fly
He meanders ‘bout the house
Shooting me and all my siblings
Whether munching at our lunches,
Or immersed in petty quiblings
We must beware the sound
Of that zooming camera scope
Hearing it’s
Our last little bit of hope,
To hide behind a curtain, a table or a bed
Or maybe, just maybe do something else instead.
We could come out of our hiding,
Standing straight and tall,
Like a military person,
Backed up against a wall.
Personally I think, I’d stare him in the face
And think to myself, “Oh, what a futile chase.”
The flash would sound
And the tables turn ‘round.
And suddenly I am still,
Upon his window sill, sill, sill…
I’m standing still and not quite harmed,
Though he be deadly armed,
He chuckles and walks away,
He lives to shoot another day,
My dear old Uncle Howard,
He’s quite a camera guy
3 Comments