Homewrok w/e 18/5/11
Posted: Tue May 17, 2011 9:24 am
To show I'm still active, I am posting my homework for IBP. It isn't a masterpiece but sometimes I like to share. This is a true story.. There is more than one type of child abuse.
I’ll Never Be Hungry Enough.
Zondrae King (Corrimal) 05/11
If my mem’ry serves me well, my age was almost ten
A picture lingers in my head - that awful evening when
my mother took the silly notion, we should have for tea
a certain continental dish that still repulses me.
We all sat round the table and my father tried it first
to keep the peace, I’m certain, he pronounced “it’s not the worst
I’ve had. It isn’t like my mother made or what I’ve had of late.”
To prove his point, with much ado, he promptly cleaned his plate.
I poked the edges with my fork and had a little smell
but it just sat there threatening as if it came from hell.
“Try it, you might like it.” in a cheery type of voice
was Mum’s advice, before she told us, there was little choice,
“You will just have to eat it ‘cause there’s nothing else for you!”
My inside gave a little lurch I felt like I would spew.
“Can I have sauce?” I asked in vain. I knew she would say no.
“Just finish up,” she said, “you’ll miss your favourite TV show.”
No that was some incentive. She knew me oh so well.
Yes, Bandstand with its music hits was one that did excel.
I poked my portion with my fork and tried to make the bog
look just a little smaller. How I wished we had a dog.
And then I started crying as I put some in my mouth
I felt the contents of my stomach swiftly heading south.
The tears were dripping from my eyes and adding to the plate.
I don’t know what I’d thought it was to get me to that state.
A funny thing is that I don’t recall what happened next.
I know that mum was livid or you could say ‘rather vexed’.
I have tried it again to see if I’d changed now I’m grown
But if you have Polenta - you can eat it on your own.
I’ll Never Be Hungry Enough.
Zondrae King (Corrimal) 05/11
If my mem’ry serves me well, my age was almost ten
A picture lingers in my head - that awful evening when
my mother took the silly notion, we should have for tea
a certain continental dish that still repulses me.
We all sat round the table and my father tried it first
to keep the peace, I’m certain, he pronounced “it’s not the worst
I’ve had. It isn’t like my mother made or what I’ve had of late.”
To prove his point, with much ado, he promptly cleaned his plate.
I poked the edges with my fork and had a little smell
but it just sat there threatening as if it came from hell.
“Try it, you might like it.” in a cheery type of voice
was Mum’s advice, before she told us, there was little choice,
“You will just have to eat it ‘cause there’s nothing else for you!”
My inside gave a little lurch I felt like I would spew.
“Can I have sauce?” I asked in vain. I knew she would say no.
“Just finish up,” she said, “you’ll miss your favourite TV show.”
No that was some incentive. She knew me oh so well.
Yes, Bandstand with its music hits was one that did excel.
I poked my portion with my fork and tried to make the bog
look just a little smaller. How I wished we had a dog.
And then I started crying as I put some in my mouth
I felt the contents of my stomach swiftly heading south.
The tears were dripping from my eyes and adding to the plate.
I don’t know what I’d thought it was to get me to that state.
A funny thing is that I don’t recall what happened next.
I know that mum was livid or you could say ‘rather vexed’.
I have tried it again to see if I’d changed now I’m grown
But if you have Polenta - you can eat it on your own.