We're doing bookspine Poems today. If you want to learn how to do these, go here. And now for a big explanation:
We decided to have the rule in our family (after remembering the shenanigans we and our sibs got up to in our youths) that after the kids turned 12, they would spend the night in their own beds unless it was with parents home, that we knew WELL, or some kind of church thing like scout or girl's camp. Our youngest daughter was utterly disgusted with that rule and wrote a whole angry diatribe book about how she hates Mom and Dad and THE RULE. We found it hilarious and keep that book in our box of memories along with other fiance blackmail pictures and items. So this poem is all about what I think my privateer (so pirate with permission) forebear might have been thinking since he NEVER (that I know) mentioned his parents or even the country of his birth.
By the way, the author of the angry diatribe book has grown up a LOT and is no longer livid about spending the night in her own bed...;)
So I suppose this poem would read something like:
I hate Mom and Dad
I'm the eldest rebel
A soul so rebellious
Now seeking the Spirit
As my inheritance
John McKusick
©2022
by H. Linn Murphy
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