poem twenty-one: the squirrel kicker (a poem based on a lie)

So I’m playing catch-up today – Sunday, Monday and Tuesday’s poems all in one day! But not all in one post.

This was a NaPoWriMo prompt earlier this month, I think, but I’ve used it by accident – a poem based on a lie. On Sunday, the Pete took us out for dinner at a pub, and during conversation I said someone kicked squirrels. I’d had a few glasses of wine. The adults present knew I was messing about, and I thought my sons did as well, but the kids asked me to clarify the next day.

So to clarify: I don’t know anyone who kicks squirrels, and I never have. (No squirrels were harmed in the writing of this piece.)


Oh yes, he’s awful. Really terrible.
Why? Because he kicks squirrels!
I’ve seen him do it. They call him
“the squirrel kicker”, and sometimes
if there are no squirrels, he spits
balls of paper at toddlers, through
a straw, when their mums aren’t looking,
so they scrunch up their faces and cry.
At other times he sticks his tongue
out at crows and magpies.

He’s that horrible.
So, I stay away from him!

But yes, what was the question?
Would I like another glass of wine?


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