This morning, as I listened to my three-and-a-half year old, Jack, playing with an odd assortment of toys on the bricks in front of our fireplace it occurred to me that perhaps you could take his utterances, which are odd at times, sheenesque even, distill them down and present them in the form of poetry. So I grabbed a pen and some paper and would occasionally cherry-pick some of his choicest comments out of the air. So, allow me to present to you for the first time the poet genius, Jack Tate. (To create the mood you might want to dim the lights, get some coffee and play some soft jazz in the background as you read. Also, it's best read aloud.)
The sky is hungry.
So is the trees.
Wolves drink fish.
Actually red fish.
I'm a hungry wolf.
Him gonna fly.
Him gonna fly to you.
'Cause Him don't
Need a car.
Wheeeeeeeeeeee!
Watch out!
Stay there blue-one!
It's okay.
I won't drop you.
Me gonna eat you.
5 comments:
I think you could accompany this stream of consciousness poem with Sarah's pictures of him eating or licking the blue dinosaur cookie!
Wow. That was awesome. I want to meet Jack now more than ever.
You know your post is golden if it makes me guffaw so loudly that the girls in the next room over come running to see the fuss.
Think of the gems that Jack and Ian could create TOGETHER!
You were right. Reading it out loud gave it a great effect and left me chuckling.
This post has legs. Jack is a true gold mine of material. Thanks for appreciating Jack's unique contribution to the artistic community. I have begun collecting material for the next installment.
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