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Some call it accidents, but I call it torments

Some call it accidents,
but I call it torments
which usually occurred
when the boys didn’t listen
or acted on their own initiative

and the two boys
while growing up
knew how to do
it to themselves
and then to me
and their shocked mother in turn.

Driving slam into a house wall
at full speed on a bicycle
without braking
almost cracked the skull
of one of them
and I had to rush
him to the hospital,
where he got it cleaned,
some injections and stitches.

Ramping a bicycle
into the swimming pool
and almost breaking a neck
while bumping a head
against the side of the pool
had me patching a head wound.

Against instructions going to the river
and walking on pipes,
falling in
and almost drowning
while breaking a leg
had me rush him to the nearest doctor.

Petting a squirrel
which looked tame as a house cat
while visiting the Kruger national park
almost gave him rabies,
nearly severed his finger
and luckily there was a clinic nearby
where they helped
while dosing out a big scolding
to both the child and us.

Removing the fall mats
around the trampoline
at a resort
and landing
on the concrete next to it,
gashed the boy’s head
with a deep cut
which happened on a Sunday

and when I found
the house of the only doctor there
I had to drive to the local airport
and ask the tower
to call him down
where his was flying
his own plane
and he stopped the bleeding,
administered injections,
applied stitches,
prescribed some pain killers
and gave one hell
of a big bill.

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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