Chapter 8. Holidays


Holidays 

I was thirteen years old when the abuse finally stopped

A middle aged couple came wanting to adopt

They saw me playing, looking sad and all alone

For me they felt sorry, so they took me to their home

The only thing I took away with me

Was my locket and my precious dolly

I went to live in a nice neighbourhood

They fed and clothed me, did everything they could

I had my own bedroom, I didn’t have to share

I had a telly some toys, a table and a chair

I had pens, pencils and colouring books

A full length mirror to check my looks

I had clean pillows, I had a clean quilt

I had a dolls house, which my foster dad built

I was given lots of toys and had so much fun

I loved having a new dad and mum

We went on holidays, most of the time to Devon

A caravan in Dawlish the devil’s heaven

In Dawlish, devilish rumours were going around

That people found the devil’s footprints on the ground

I loved the wild life, especially the black swans

And the Indian geese, with feathers that shone like bronze

The beach was both sand and shingle

Most people were couples, hardly anyone single

It was is wonder as Dawlish is so nice

Beautiful scenery, a lover’s paradise

Mum and dad loved The Strand

Sometimes a car boot sale, sometimes a band

Dawlish was my favourite place to go

I miss Dawlish I miss it so

I also loved weekend trips to Morecambe

So did my dad, so did my mum

I loved the slots, I loved the Pier

Treasured memories, I hold them dear

The Pleasure beach, the Crazy Mouse

The Super Dome, the brill Fun House

The town centre Chippy, was the best

Back in those days, we were full of zest

I spent my pocket money in the Grand Arcade

Sometimes I lost, sometimes I made

I would sit on the Jetty, drink cans of pop

Spend ages choosing from hundreds of pieces of rock

Shit my pants in Madam Taussauds

Play Donkey Derby, collect my rewards

The wooden Cyclone, the massive Big Wheel

The Log Flume, the Waltzers, they all made me squeal

There used to be a place called Happy Mount Park

We would go there in the morning, back to the hotel after dark

I used to love bouncing on the Trampolines

Mum would sit in the café reading magazines

Dad would sit and listen to music played by the Salvation Army

Mum didn’t like it, it would drive her barmy

But those days are gone, gone in the past

But we all had fun, we all had a blast

But most of all I loved going to Perth

It was truly, the best place on earth!

I don’t miss being dragged to Kinnoull Hill

I was always taken there against my will

That dammed hill was very high

It seemed, as if it reached the sky

I have to admit that the scenery is breath taking

Of this fact, there is no mistaking

I could see Perth City; I could see the Tay River

It was so beautiful, it made me shiver

I used to watch the cattle in the fields below grazing

The scenery was both scary and amazing

I used to love Perth’s most famous pies

They were the best, I tell you no lies

Into my mouth, I would pop one in

I loved the way the grease ran down my chin

I didn’t eat one; I would eat three or four

But I always felt, I had room for one more

Chapter 9

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About The Jaw K.A.Shaw

I am a writer from Manchester in the U.K. A writer who believes to have written the World's longest novel in the English language, written by a single person and in Rhyming Couplets. My book, The Jaw Revisited is over 100,000 words which span over 450 pages. Although in the literary world this is classified as poetry, I believe it is a fusion of Poetry, Art and Horror story telling. I do not pretend to be a literary genius, I just write from the heart and what comes naturally to me. No flowery words or phrases, I don't compare thee to a summer's day or anything like that. I write about true life drama, Science Fiction and with a weird imagination. Combine those three together and you get The Jaw Revisited, a no holds barred, straight to the point, dramatised, adventure through life.

Posted on July 12, 2011, in Chapters From The Jaw and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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