Monday, March 19, 2012

The Prude



A woman who tended to brood
On anything sexy or nude.
Would slam shut a book
Saying 'I cannot look
At anything crude, rude or lewd!'


I've never chewed on bubblegum;
I've never had the pleasure
Of blowing a big sticky ball
Almost too large to measure.
I've never tasted the colour pink,
Or learned the art of blowing;
I've never seen the bubble grow
Filled with air to overflowing.
I've never felt the bubble burst
All flatly on my face.
I've never peeled the remnants off,
Every elongated trace.
But I have worn a gas-mask;
That was my childhood thrill,
And I remember it clearly; I think I always will.
Childhood is a joyful time
Whatever the circumstance
And my childhood was a wartime one,
By pure historical chance.
And I remember the air-raid shelters,
Where children sat in rows,
Each child with a gas-mask
Covering it's nose.
We made such glorious noises,
Lavatory noises really,
Blowing bubbles at each other.
I still hear us clearly!
Now young people blow their bubbles
Of a peaceful sort of pink;
In my childhood I did the same.
I'm glad there is a link.

1 comment:

Jim said...

Good thoughts about bad happenings! :) I liked it a whole lot!

I also appreciated your 'Prude' limerick. Perfectly (constructed??) and terribley funnny yet real.

Congrats on the play. Church plays are fun to do.
I added a comment to Grandma's post and copied it to my comments explaining why I came to use the theme that I did. It came from a WWII experience told by a friend of mine.
Thank you for inquiring. I would like for you to read one of the comments.