Teenagers

The Parent’s View.

They greet the world with just a grunt, and then a practiced sneer,
though it’s not as rude as it may seem - and means ‘g’morning dear’,
So don’t be fooled that manners, have gone and are quite dead,
They’ve just gone underground for now ‘cos they aint got no ‘street cred’.

They never answer questions –it’s just like pulling teeth,
And if they do, the truthfulness is buried underneath,
In reply to ‘where were you last night’ you’ll get a one word shout,
Designed to drive you up the wall - the word you’ll get is ‘OUT’

For now the voice of wisdom, does not reside at home,
It lives in classroom corners, where early ‘teenies’ moan,
‘My mom said this…’ ‘my dad said that…’ lead to gales of laughter,
but insecurity rules the day, and for several years thereafter.

They wear a fashion that they think is very chic and cool.
It’s designed to knock the eyes out of their closest friends at school,
Like ankle boots and long black skirts and colours that don’t mix,
In fact they look like down-and out’s from nineteen forty-six.

Their bedroom is a complete mess – you’d think there’d been a burglary,
And the only way to get things cleared is by the use of bribery,
Make-up jars and layers of dust cover every surface,
And pleas from mom to ‘tidy up’ make her an aging ogress.

A wardrobe is for books and things, the floor is just for clothes,
And unwashed plates and dirty cups (things I simply loathe,)
Are shoved beneath the unmade bed along with socks and shoes,
where life-forms of a simple kind breed where, and how, they choose.

The Teenage View

A troubled time these unsure years when no-one understands,
The world out there is beckoning but you’re bound by childhood strands,
The rules that count are set by peers and not by those indoors,
and parents of advancing years mutter O tempora O mores!

How can they know which fashion’s in? They’re bordering on decrepit,
And all their views are out of date and really pretty tepid,
There’ll come a day when even they, will see that I was right,
That I knew best about the time that I came home at night.

The home is just a hotel- somewhere to eat and sleep,
And where you get your washing done- but the price, it don’t come cheap,
It’s ‘pick that up’ or ‘don’t do that’ and ‘tidy up your bedroom’,
With irritating siblings to exacerbate the gloom.

It’s a wonder that they’ve managed to bring me up so far,
(and I really wouldn’t bother if it wasn’t for the car,)
From morn ‘til night it’s nothing but a load of moans and whinges,
just because they’ve had to get someone to fix the hinges!

I have a friend of nineteen – her parents were the same,
She said I shouldn’t worry, they’re just temporarily insane,
‘cos when she got much older she found to her surprise,
her parents had recovered and were very much more wise.