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Flick flick flick goes the rain again

Mum can’t watch TV. What a pain!

She tells me about the gutters

then under her breath mutters

Why don’t you listen to what I say?!


Pitta patter on it goes

I put on a sweater and blow my nose.

I had plans to go out but now that’s changed

Then I remember dad’s forgotten his umbrella again!


RD DAY 8 Rain art

I knew the blob wasn’t clear so my caption is for that 

I have the pumpkin puree for pie

but don’t have the tin, why oh why!

Dessert plans are halted

Mum says we can have bread that can be toasted

But I thought that would be boring.


So I cut an onion and cracked a few eggs

but dad stood behind me and shook his head.

Ramadan is flying by and you’re all eating bread.

You see, he was in shock with the big shift

from pakora and samosa to salad with cress.

I’ll make something tasty he said, get out the meat!

Mum and I objected but dad wasn’t listening,

so I had to step in with If you make biryani, none of us will eat!


RD DAY 8 eggie bread

My brother ate his sandwich and the rest ate the eggie bread.

Dad looked on in silence, refused the food

then finally I’ll have the pillaow instead.

He offered to make pakora, I’ll only me a mo.

We all yelled in unison dad, no means no!

Then he walked off with a huff and a puff

mum started to giggle,

brother smiled behind a cough,

and I pushed my plate away, stuffed stuffed and stuffed

with bread.


RD DAY 8 power snack

My poetry is poor and I apologise for that.

But you’ve stuck around till this part

so thank you and please do come back.