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Hot

Red

Dead

Burnd

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Hey

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My son aged three fell in the nettle bed.
'Bed' seemed a curious name for those green spears,
That regiment of spite behind the shed:
It was no place for rest. With sobs and tears
The boy came seeking comfort and I saw
White blisters beaded on his tender skin.
We soothed him till his pain was not so raw.
At last he offered us a watery grin,
And then I took my billhook, honed the blade
And went outside and slashed in fury with it
Till not a nettle in that fierce parade
Stood upright any more. And then I lit
A funeral pyre to burn the fallen dead,
But in two weeks the busy sun and rain
Had called up tall recruits behind the shed:
My son would often feel sharp wounds again.

Submitted by Andrew Mayers

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Nettles Poem by Vernon Scannell - Poem Hunter

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My son aged three fell in the nettle bed.'Bed' seemed a curious name for those green spears,That regiment of spite behind the shed:It was no place for rest.

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-Pointy

-Dangerous

-Keen

-Briery

-Green

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.crimson

.ebony

.fumes

.danger

.ashes

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Stingy

Very painfull

So sore

Horrible

Pain

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Tall

Stingy

Green

Painful

Horrible

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Dangerous

Sharp

Stingy

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Green

Spears

Pointy

Sharp

H

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Baby

Crying

Smiling

mixed

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Sophie , Briana , Aimee u