Daily Prompt: Copies

The sincerest form of flattery (or extreme source of annoyance) is to copy something you admire. I have always loved the poem Indian Summer by William Campbell. We had to memorize it in grade five. Which I could not, I was an extremely introverted misfit and would go blank at just the thought of having to say anything to anyone. My fifth grade teacher was a mortifying copy of Ms. Finster (you know from Recess!) I blame some of my trauma on her. Actually I blame her for 89% of it. Here is Indian Summer and my rendition below it:

“Indian Summer”

Along the line of smoky hills

The crimson forest stands,

And all the day the blue-jay calls

Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans,

With all his glory spread;

And all the sumachs on the hills

Have turned their green to red.

Now, by great marshes wrapt in mist,

Or past some river’s mouth,

Throughout the long still autumn day

Wild birds are flying south.
“Kidsindahouse Summer”
Within the walls of smoke-filled kitchen,

The offspring burn their toast.

And all morning I bury skull in pillow,

In sleep I am engrossed.

Now by afternoon the house is still standing,

Although a filthy mess;

And all my brats claim innocence

None of them confess.

Now its high time I got out of bed,

I really need some tea,

Throughout our abode the kids do scatter

‘Cause I’m petrifying to see.

Finster

 

My fifth grade teacher actually looked just like this.

Advertisements