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Book 6 Page 16
Chip off the old block
My old man and I
we’re like cheese and chalk, or is it ‘chalk and cheese.’
At times he’s almost
impossible to please.
But I’m noticing that
as I grow old and wise,
our similarities are becoming more obvious,
and I cannot tell a lie, ‘he’s a lot like me.’
It’s like we’re made
from the very same mode.
Pressed from the same,
Shaped just like the bible says;
from the very same clay.
We do seem to be similar,
I must say!
When he hurts his 'back' he walks this funny way.
Well I might laugh, but I shouldn’t ,for I do the same.
And when he gets frustrated, his left eye starts to twinge,
well I do that, when I whinge!
And the grey patches in his hair,
when I go grey ,I go grey exactly there!
And when he communicates, he talks a lot with his hands.
Now I’m finding I communicate this same way now I'm a man.
Now I really hate to admit it, for we really are poles apart,
but sometimes it looks like I’m a blue print, after me old man’s heart.
The resemblance is uncanny; I’m actually like him a lot.
So when all is said and done,
although it is a terrible, terrible shock,
I am indeed a chip of me old mans block.
© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au 31/7/99 firstname.lastname@example.org