Martin’s Stand-Off Poem by Adeline Foster

Martin's Stand-Off

How Martin felt lonely and, oh, how he felt sad;
He heard Mother calling but he felt like being bad.
He stayed in the garden by his favorite rock,
And he poked at the earth in his favorite spot.
He knew Daddy had told him he mustn’t do that,
But habit was with him there where he sat.
The hole was growing bigger and the sun was growing dim;
He stared into the hole and felt himself tumble in.
A caterpillar came crawling with a horn on his head,
And he raised up his front legs and growlingly said,
“You weren’t invited so you’d better go home.
This is my hole and I live here alone.”
“I can’t, ” replied Martin, “because I am so small,
And this hole is so deep the sides are like a wall.”
“Cant! “Can’t! ” said the gruff voice, “That excuse is so old,
And I know that you seldom do what you’re told.
Everyone in our family has heard about you,
And they tell their children about things that you do.
You never answer when your parents call,
And you scream in your bedroom and kick at the wall.
Why, your mommy and daddy are crying right now
Because they want to help you and they don’t know how.
Maybe it’s a good thing that you fell in this hole,
And I hope that you stay here until you’re real old.
You can kick scream and yell, and no one will hear;
It doesn’t matter ‘cause I won’t be here all year.
I’ll spin a cocoon and turn into a moth,
Then I’ll start my own family in a nice piece of cloth.”
“Please! Please! ” Martin begged, “I know I’ve been bad,
But, if they can’t find me, I know they’ll be sad.”
“Ha! ” sneered Caterpillar, “Fiddle-dee-dee!
I’d forget all about you if it were up to me.
Just tell me one reason why they should care.
Would you make them happy if you were back there? ”
“Oh yes! ” Martin wailed, “If I only knew how.
If I were back home, I’d start doing it now.
If I get out of this hole, I promise to try
To do what I’m told and not even ask why.”
That big caterpillar just blinked his big eye,
And, with that, Martin felt that he knew how to fly;
And he found himself sitting beside his big rock,
An he said, “That was silly, caterpillars can’t talk.
The sun is still shining and I still feel mean;
That must have been nothing but a silly dream.”
So on and on till the end of the day,
Finé- D.C.al finé.

D.C. al Finé (fin-ay) in music means
to return to the beginning and repeat to Finé.