Breathlessley Speaking

I hit my brother and
My brother fell fainted and
His son got angry and
He hit me back and
I turned to hit him back and
Then mother-90 years, shouted and
She hit me for her turn and
Thus I got so many strokes and
It did'nt matter much but
Only made me feel sorry, for
Mother broke my only walking stick and
She screamed 'you're sixty and
your brother is seventy and
My grandson is forty and
I don't suppose a battlefield' and
Then my brother woke up and
Our fight started again and'I am Wellesley.
why I hit him 'cause
He has been calling me Breathlessley'.

poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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