As the last poem featured an elderly Chinese man, I thought as a contrast I’d post one about a small Welsh boy. This was written after a school visit a few years back when I was working for an environmental organisation in the Welsh Valleys. Well before my own small boys entered the scene, although it’s easy to imagine either of them sounding exactly like this.
Small Boy’s Poem
I am small and I am precious and I am
growing up in Merthyr Vale which is called
â€˜Ynysowenâ€™ which is next to Aberfan.
Mrs Thomas is my headteacher and she is
very nice but she tells me that I have
a loud voice for someone so small because I am
just the smallest boy in my class
although Peter Ryan is
nearly as small as me.
I also like Mrs Jones whoâ€™s my class teacher
especially when itâ€™s nearly end of term
and we all go out on the playing field
for games and we have one sack race and
one egg and spoon race before it
starts to rain and we have to go back in
but it doesnâ€™t matter because
the teachers are all being funny
which makes me want to
run around and go â€˜yarooâ€™
which I do and thatâ€™s when Mrs Thomas
calls me over and puts her arm around me
and tells me that
I have a loud voice
for one so small as me
and looks at me like my mum does
when she tells me
that Iâ€™m precious.
Like Bird Garden, this was one of a few poems used by Belmont Arts Cenre in primary and secondary schools in Shropshire.