Daddy's Cigarettes

A poem I wrote called "Daddy's Cigarettes".
It's about a boy with downsyndrom. That's why the spelling isn't right. :)

5Likes
11Comments
614Views
AA

1. Daddy's Cigarettes

 

Dady, he wis sik, he wis,

Couldn'ie barelee stand 'imself,

He sent me off t' shop each day,

T' buy 'im a pack o' cigarets.

He gave me a note, all scrawlded in pen,

Sayin' he couldnie walk no more,

And even tho I'm just a laddy,

I need a pack o' cigarets for dady.

Wi' no fuss, they gave me the boxes,

All filld to the brim, they wer!

But dady told me not to take won,

He told me smokin cigarets wis rong.

So I tik them home, and gave them to him,

He smiled and stuck em in his mowth,

Smoke dansd between us,

And dady closed his eyes and went a sleep.

The next day, I went bak to the wee shop,

And I handed over dady's note,

And them nice peeple gave me a pack o' cigarets,

And I tik em all home, and dady lit won,

And told me smokin cigarets wis rong.

I askd him, dady, I sed to him

"If its so rong, then why you doin it?

Smokin cigarets all day,

Smokin all yoor life away?"

He smiled, he did, and sed to me: "Son,

Smokins gid for me.

Smokin helps me forget."

I dont no wit he wanted to forget.

I never told me dady all them things,

Them things they sed to me at school,

They sed I wis different, they did,

That I wis ugly, they called me "downie boy".

Sumtimes it wid make me cry.

Sumtimes I wid punch em and make them cry.

Eye'd lik in the mirror, and see 'im likkin bak at me,

A face, not pritty liyk thers, all pink wiv specs foggin my eyes.

An' evryday I'd get them cigarets for dady,

An' evryday he'd smoke them,

An; evryday I'd be cryin' still,

Becus of them peeple that be makin fun of me.

Theyer not all bad, no, not at all,

Littel Anne is sweet as hunny,

She smiles and holds my hand sumtims,

She tels me to ignore all ov them, so I do, to make er happy.

Won day, mumy told me dady was very il,

She told me not to talk to im,

He wis goin mad she sed,

And so I went along and bot him a pak o' cigarets.

Wen I got home, mumy wis cryin.

She held me realy tight and her tears wer makin my shoulder all wet.

She lookd at me with red eyes and sed dadys sleepin.

She sed he's gone for a very speshal sleep.

Dady was pale as my nuckles, liyin in his bed,

His eyes wer shut al properly,

And ther wasny any weasin

Cumin from his bad lungs.

I pit a hand on top ov his chest,

It was al stil, it wis.

I sung to him, a lulaby,

The won he wons sung to me.

I placed his cigarets besyd his bed,

So wen he woke up he cid take won out,

And smile again, and tell me not to smoke, cus it's bad for me.

But he never did.

Won day, a man came and tik dady away.

I wis cryin, I dont no why.

Mumy told me it was okay, but she wis cryin too,

So I held her hand, and wotched them take dady in a black box.

I wis in a weerd soot the next time I sa me dady,

He wis in that blak box, sleepin still, he wis.

Mumy wis in a funy blak dress,

We wis in a church, we wis.

Grama was theyr and her eyes wer all misty,

Liyk clouds that av been holdin back theyr rain,

So I held her hand and likd up at her,

And sed "Wen d'yi think wi'll see dady again?"

She likd down at me, and smiled wiv her eybrows,

And she shrugd her frail sholders,

Her eyes far and distant.

Wen I got home, I went in dadys room,

And that pak ov cigarets wis likkin at me,

Wisperin to me,

And for a minit, I fot I cid hear dady.

I pikd them up, the packet wis all flimsy.

I lifted up the littel lid, and ther wis twelf wee sticks,

They were all likkin up at me.

I tik one in ma fingers, and likd at it for a wyle.

I thot of all them bad fings the kids at skool call me,

How they make me cry,

And say "Hey downie boy, wers yir dady now?"

The teers in ma eyes were bleedin down ma cheeks,

So I lit the cigaret, and put in in ma lips,

And the rusty smoke lit up ma lungs,

In flames that fild ma empty heart.

I smoked em all till they wer proper gone,

Evry last won.

And wen I wis old enuf, I went t' the wee shop,

And bot ma own cigarets,

And smoked them all,

Till they wer just ashes in the pam of ma hand.

I went to see dady,

He wis just a plate of stone,

But he wis there, beneath the muddy gras,

Still sleepin, maybe smokin his cigarets.

So I layd down a fresh pak, just for him,

And I told him all the things they sayd at skool,

And I told him not to worry, becus I'm in collij now,

A speshal collij, for peepel lyke me.

And then I told him how Anne had a boyfrend now,

A very handsum won indeed,

And I evn told him how I wus a littel bot jelus,

But maybey won day I'd ave my own prinsess.

And now I sit in the moldin gras,

Likkin at wer yir stone yoosed ti stand,

But it's gone now dady,

There's sumwon elses stone ther.

Wer hav yoo gone dady?

Are yoo cumin back?

But d'yi know what I fownd on the gras?

An old cigaret pak.

I held it in my hand,

And pressed it to my cheek,

And even tho I'm a big man now,

I will alwis be downie boy,

Who goes away to get Daddy's Cigarettes.

 

 

 

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...