Why have ‘a day’ to celebrate womanhood?
Sisterhood, brotherhood?
Other days…..
Aren’t they good?
A day for love?
And childhood?
For motherhood?
Are the rest of the days……
Only to brood??
Its everyday, I say!
Man with woman,
Citizen with citizen,
Black with white,
Kids with bullies……
Colours that hide …..
From the light…..
Countries with countries…..
Everyday is a day….
To fight the good fight…..
Inequality happens….
In every hour, somewhere…..
It isn’t confined,
So we have to care…..
There once was a boy in my school,
My school called Lampton High…..
And he was teased and badgered…..
Morning, noon and night…..
Why, you may ask,
Why, oh why?
Well, because he was timid and shy……
He often broke out in a cry…..
His name was Samuel Boone,
But people called him ‘Samantha’!
Because of his delicate looks……
And for still believing in Santa…..
This was when we were thirteen…..
They said, “God’s made a mistake!
He’s produced a beautiful queen!
And confused this human being!”
Everyday for Samuel,
Was a torturous day…..
“The girly girl has come to school,”
The kids would laugh and say…..
In the long lunch line……
Boys would clear the way…..
“Ladies first,” they’d say….
When would this go away??
Samuel thought as tears…..
Welled up on his eyes….
This tear stained face…..
Was his trademark for all time…..
Children can be mean,
But they can be righted in time…..
Samuel waited and watched…..
Brave in the ordeal, meanwhile…..
Our teacher, Mrs. Baker,
And another, Mr. Lewis…..
(Baker was a sort of mater)
Their idea was this…..
One Monday, they announced….
That a day had been selected,
On which a winner would be pronounced,
For dressing as opposite sexes!
“Let’s see how you all find…..
Life on the other side!!”
The children were excited…..
The children thought it was fun…..
And enthusiasm was infectious,
As disguise trying had begun!
On the day of the main contest…..
It was amusing to see…..
‘Girls ‘ giggling in jest,
‘Boys’ with a swagger so neat!
I was dressed as a boy too….
Hair gelled back and slick….
White shirt, black trousers, laced shoes…..
Trying to make the impression stick!
My mother, frank as she is…..
Took out her Polaroid cam…..
“Shez wait, I must have a pic…..
Of my pretty little man!”
Now something hit me quick….
I hated when mum called me that…..
Though it was just in joking….
I wanted her to stick to fact!
Samuel was just a boy…..
With an angelic face,
Which should have been a joy…..
To behold at any rate!
Mrs. Baker and Mr. Lewis,
Entered the classroom at last…..
Muffled whispers weren’t missed….
As the gaunt Mr. Lewis asked,
“Well, how do you feel boys and girls?”
“A bit strange, but not that much!”
Replied the mean boy with the curls….
“Well, you don’t look the same as such!
You’re beautiful now, dear Simon!”
Exclaimed Mrs. Baker, and then…..
The class rang out like a siren….
With whistles, and catcalls, when…..
Simon shouted out aloud,
“I’m not beautiful! I’m a boy, just the same!
Please don’t call me that!
I don’t like being called names!”
The teachers smiled at each other,
And Samuel was smiling too…..
“So now you’re all in a bother,
When names are being called at you!”
Simon, his head down in shame,
Said, “I’m really sorry, I am!”
The teachers pointed him to Samuel,
And Simon, as gently as a lamb……
Said sorry to Samuel,
As he shook Samuel’s hand …..
Now Mr. Lewis spoke,
“It’s not nice to be amused…..
At another’s expense, or poke…..
Fun, at innocent folk!”
Whether you’re born as XX,
Or whether you are XY….
No one is better than the next….
And you have no right to malign…..
Looks may keep differing,
But what matters is INSIDE….
HUMANITY must be seen….
And no one has to hide…..
We are all equal in the fact…..
That we are all different like that…..
The air that we breathe is the same….
That’s what keeps us living….
Having a different name…..
Shouldn’t stop us from giving….
As I’ve grown into what I am,
I think it’s all so bizarre…..
That people have to still fight for equality,
In this day, and age, and hour…..
We’ve started to raise daughters like sons….
And that’s not at all too bad,
But we should have the courage to raise sons more like daughters…..
We don’t , and that’s just sad…..
Mrs. Baker’s finale speech,
And one I’ll never forget,
“Never dish out something……
That you don’t expect to get!”
poeticlisence 