September
Thursday 21 August 2008 photo 1/1
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Första dagen i en ny skola. Påminner mig om ett poem av Roger McGough
A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
And the railings.
All around, the railing.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.
I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher till read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.
Roger McGough
Waiting for the bell to go (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.
And the railings.
All around, the railing.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.
I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher till read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.
Roger McGough
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