Day 168: Bare Feet

Bare Feet
Matt Zurbo


Look at me, I’ve got bare feet! It’s kinda sweet to have bare feet.

Look at me! I’ve got bare feet and a silly top! Lets rock and roll and never stop! I’m a cheeky monkey with a silly top!

Look at me! I’ve got a sticky face! Wow, this cake is really ace! When you’re a cheeky monkey with bare feet, a silly top and a sticky face!

Listen to this! I’m making noise! I’m making noise to other girls and boys! Me, a cheeky monkey with a sticky face, silly top and bare feet. What! A! Treat! What a treat! To be a ratbag with bare feet!

Check it out! A bloody knee, no doubt! A quick pout, mean shout, from me, a cheeky monkey, with bare feet and a bloody spout!

Look, look, OH a cardboard box! I’m a rocket, a zoom car, a big ox! Rrr, pop, bang, chug-a-lug, it’s a kid with bare feet, silly top, a sticky face, making noise all over the shop, band-aide on his knees, and a cardboard V8 full of rot!

A pile of leaves!? Oh, yes, yes please! Watch me jump into all of these leaves! Sticks and spiders all over me, kicking rocks and leaves into the breeze, with my bare feet and bloody knees!


Wowee! THANK YOU Santa Clause, and Tooth Fairy, not all dreams have to be scary! A puddle of MUD is a dream of mine, to jump into all the time! Mud! Mud! Mud! In my ears, on my face. Mud where it should be, ALL OVER THE PLACE, over my bare feet and sticky face!

Look at me! My Mum just did! She was so angry I ran and hid!

“A MUD MONSTER!” she cried, when on my bed this tired boy lied. With his bare feet, and silly top, bloody knees, a voice too loud, leaves, sticks and rocks. And a soggy, muddy cardboard box.

Oh no! A hose, a hose, please don’t be mean! Don’t wash me down and scrub me clean! A shiny boy with no bare feet, feeling weirdly kind of neat. Politely quiet in a plain top, no blood flow he must stop. Cardboard boxes in the bin, leaves left where they should have been. Mud stepped politely around, left for frogs, on the ground.

This all sounds a way too nice…




The End!

2 thoughts on “Day 168: Bare Feet

  1. Loved the rhythm of your poem. Visions of Woodie Guthrie’s more earthy songs came to mind. That and Swedish families all sitting in the sauna after a full day of luxuriating at the beach or scrambling hither and yon and then through a ghostly-shadowed, viking woods. I can see illustrators lining up illustrations in their minds. Bravo and domo arigato.


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