Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Mrs Dumpty

by Jim Hayes

You were my
special child when you were little--
it bothered
me you always looked so pale.
Just like
your dad’s your shell was very brittle,
I dreaded
you might trip, you were so frail.
You had no
neck, or ears to wash behind--
a dream to
care for--yet, suppose you cracked
if you were held too tight?  A mom-designed
polystyrene
box held you intact.
The time
arrived when you were leaving home;
‘Go find
your range” I said ‘Be free my son
but call me
should you stumble’. I would come
to find you
and make good the damage  done.
You’re gone
a while, I’ve got no call. It may be
that you
are doing fine. Oh my dear baby.
 

Added: 22.01.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

07.05.2010

What an original and funny - yet strangely poignant - poem. Well done. I just thought the ending was a bit weak and could be improved.

03.06.2010

Unusual and original. Love this poem

06.06.2010

I liked the interesting rhythm to this poem.

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