Problem Parents (Poetry)
31st July 2022
They’re always right — even when they’re wrong
the writing’s on the wall — the same old song
all the well-worn clichés drive grown children mad
like schooldays were the best times ever had
No they really weren’t — it’s simply not the truth
there were arguments enough to raise the roof
the uniform was hateful and the cost
of replacing ties and gymshoes that got lost
was sure to cause a rumpus anyhow
and the memory’s unpleasant even now
plus the heaps of homework waiting to be done
took hours better spent on having fun
And that reluctant boy dragged home for Sunday tea
who was the most embarrassed — him or me?
Why do parents think it’s so hilarious
to dig out bald baby photographs of us?
Like chubby toddlers grinning madly with no teeth
or scowling fierce — it beggars all belief
It’s as though they want to dowse right from the start
that little flame that warms the teenage heart
So, what d’you want to do when you leave school?
It’s aunts or uncles ask this as a rule
when visiting and parents leap in quick
with something just to show that you’re not thick
or tempted to say Rock Star (so perverse)
or Drug-Dealer — maybe Banker (which is worse)
no matter what you were about to say
they’d barge right in and take your breath away
But you hadn’t lost your voice and you’d a right
to say they’d got it wrong and risk a fight
because really they just hadn’t got a clue
what you liked and which career appealed to you
Well, nothing’s changed. They’ve never learnt from their mistakes
They still harp on and get it wrong — no dawning breaks ...
The older generation is so set
in ways — like jokes we’re doomed to never get
And they call us ‘Problem Kids’ — Oh, God that’s rich!
As the years go on there’s clearly been a switch
but they’re never wrong. Stay calm and count to ten
Half our past is family fiction
Thanks to them
the writing’s on the wall — the same old song
all the well-worn clichés drive grown children mad
like schooldays were the best times ever had
No they really weren’t — it’s simply not the truth
there were arguments enough to raise the roof
the uniform was hateful and the cost
of replacing ties and gymshoes that got lost
was sure to cause a rumpus anyhow
and the memory’s unpleasant even now
plus the heaps of homework waiting to be done
took hours better spent on having fun
And that reluctant boy dragged home for Sunday tea
who was the most embarrassed — him or me?
Why do parents think it’s so hilarious
to dig out bald baby photographs of us?
Like chubby toddlers grinning madly with no teeth
or scowling fierce — it beggars all belief
It’s as though they want to dowse right from the start
that little flame that warms the teenage heart
So, what d’you want to do when you leave school?
It’s aunts or uncles ask this as a rule
when visiting and parents leap in quick
with something just to show that you’re not thick
or tempted to say Rock Star (so perverse)
or Drug-Dealer — maybe Banker (which is worse)
no matter what you were about to say
they’d barge right in and take your breath away
But you hadn’t lost your voice and you’d a right
to say they’d got it wrong and risk a fight
because really they just hadn’t got a clue
what you liked and which career appealed to you
Well, nothing’s changed. They’ve never learnt from their mistakes
They still harp on and get it wrong — no dawning breaks ...
The older generation is so set
in ways — like jokes we’re doomed to never get
And they call us ‘Problem Kids’ — Oh, God that’s rich!
As the years go on there’s clearly been a switch
but they’re never wrong. Stay calm and count to ten
Half our past is family fiction
Thanks to them