Joshua’s Trumpet

Named after a warrior who blasted down walls,
Joshua was born head-first down the toilet,
to emerge a quick thinker of eccentric wit
who pretended to daydream
while missing nothing.
He also wanted to play the trumpet.

Now he’s eight, he debates weighty issues,
despises football, tolerates cricket,
and honours his household pets
who’d guard him to the death.
And when he opens his music-case,
they all line up to hear his trumpet.

Joshua listens to heavy rock on headphones
while devising fantasy games
full of monsters and  super-heroes.
In bed he cuddles old Teddy bear,
who knows all his secret fears,
  and is his most loyal trumpet fan.

When he grows up, he intends to stop World War Three,
not by fighting, but as a computer decoder.
He’ll ban gross school dinners and short trousers
and other customs causing resentment,
then he’ll sit on a hilltop pondering  peace,
and praise Creation with his trumpet.

Trumpet
Trumpet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I wrote this poem seventeen years ago about my son, Joshua. Recently, he gave me permission to post it on my blog.

It’s so difficult to predict what a child will grow up to do with his life. Joshua still loves computers, fantasy gaming, and animals, but he doesn’t play the trumpet anymore, and he isn’t a computer decoder or scientist of any kind. Instead,  he’s just graduated in English, Creative Writing, and History.  

Author: Sarah Potter Writes

Sarah is a British eccentric who writes offbeat fiction, haiku and tanka poetry. She's into nature, gardening, and natural health. For her, sociability is something that happens in short bursts with long breathing spaces in between.

15 thoughts on “Joshua’s Trumpet”

  1. Great piece. I wonder how it would be with the line breaks taken out – it almost seems like prose. The layout may be unimportant. It is a wonderful piece of history. It captures all the hopes and aspirations. Good work.

    Like

    1. I’m glad you liked it:-)

      It spontaneously happened as free verse, with each group of words a snapshot linked sequentially.

      I agree it could work as prose, but it would probably end up much longer, without the reader having the opportunity to surface for air.

      Like

      1. I know how you feel. My son graduated last May and is here working on a graphic novel until March, when he leaves for Argentina on a Fulbright. I love having him home. So happy for you and your son.

        Like

  2. I delight in this poem Sarah…
    Reminds me of my son. He graduated from culinary school
    but loves to play keyboard every night with a band.
    We parents cannot really tell early on a child’s life, what his/her
    inclination would be, later in life.

    Like

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