My Little Brother
(A 9 year old Sister lament)
My little brother is a total mess.
He is never still even at his best.
Into my things and into my hair
He drives me to total despair.
This morning before I could dress,
He hid my clothes among his mess.
He stole my slipper and pulled my hair
My Little Brother is too much to bear.
At recess one day in a game of dare,
A bully pushed me and pulled my hair.
Out of nowhere my brother appeared,
Chased the bully and showed he cared.
Now my heart is pounding and I am glad.
My Little Brother is no reason to be sad.
I can stand his kicking and pinching.
He is handy when I need him I’m thinking.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
Hey you! What you've written, in part, sounds soooooo familiar! Ha, ha...... Not only are you a good looking hombre - - but he writes! This is awesomely written and expressed in detail enough that I feel and recognize the familiar circumstances!! I would've loved to hear your father tell a story or two! That would've been so fun! I am so pleased, excited and elated to read your work, Roberto! I am so happy that you wrote in English! Thanks for that! You never cease to amaze me! Ah, the wonders of you! You are the best of the best! Sheri / www.poetryandbeyond.net
ReplyDeleteYour praise is most welcome, but I fear exaggerated, thanks for your friendship and for your talent. You are quite the top of the line. Bob
DeleteI know how it feels to have a little brother. I have a brother 7 years younger than me but today we are very close. He still refers to himself as our baby brother! Haha. I enjoyed your cute poem Robert. Blessings, Connie
ReplyDeleteThanks Connie, this poem was based on a real life family. I wrote nine poems for the sister's 9th birthday and she liked this one best. Her little brother was a total mess, but smart.
DeleteDear Bob, your poem gave me giggles. It seems older siblings don't always appreciate "little brothers." He did come in "handy," though, when he stopped the bullying. You should publish this in a book for children. I'm sure they would love it as much as I do.
ReplyDeleteHope you are well now!
Love and blessings,
Carolyn
Thanks Carolyn, it is published in my book DOWN THE ROAD WE CAME. I really appreciate your wonderful comments. Bob
ReplyDeleteA great poem here Robert. I have three sons and can relate to what you said now & when they were growing up! Brothers have a special yet unpredictable relationship. Don't let anyone outside come between them though!! Thanks for the smiles, I enjoyed reading your poem. ~Chris
ReplyDeleteThank you Christine, my nearest in age older brother and I fought each other constantly growing up. He was 4 years older so I probably got the worst of it but I made many of his shirts unwearable. At school we joined up and I backed him up. He was always getting into fights and my job was to keep the other
Deletekids brothers from joining in. Thanks for reading for me. Bob
Lol. Very nice....very nice. I can understand the sister's dilemma, only it was my little sister who was a "mess." Thanks for sharing, my friend. Continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-Maurice J. Reynolds, Owner / Editor
TGBTG! Publications / Creative Inspirations
http://www.tgbtgpublictions.com
Thanks MJ and most of us who grew up in a family of multiple children had one or more siblings who gave us trying times.. Bob
ReplyDeleteWhat a delightful read this morning, Bob!
ReplyDeleteSuch a treat to see some of the work you shared back here in NC!!
I remember this one and always had a good-hearted chuckle!
My children liked to create Rube Goldburg "machine's" by wrapping yarn throughout the house...and wait for their father to walk into the web....
Your poem entices all to enjoy the glint in the eye....
Oh...loving your Inner Child that still comes out to play!.
Brightest Blessings to you and yours!
~Dena