What do you think of this poem, Stealing?

Read it. :) The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman. Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate with a mind as cold as the slice of ice within my own brain. I started with the head. Better off dead than giving in, not taking what you want. He weighed a ton; his torso, frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill piercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowing that children would cry in the morning. Life's tough. Sometimes I steal things I don't need. I joy-ride cars to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look. I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera. I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob. A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this - Aah. It took some time. Reassembled in the yard, he didn't look the same. I took a run and booted him. Again. Again. My breath ripped out in rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standing alone among lumps of snow, sick of the world. Boredom. Mostly I'm so bored I could eat myself. One time, I stole a guitar and thought I might learn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare once, flogged it, but the snowman was the strangest. You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you? - 'Stealing' by Carol Ann Duffy I love this poem, I think it's so clever. What do you think of it? What's your favourite poem?

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  1. Noz K Says:

    I can’t stand Carol Ann Duffy. Is this by any chance English GCSE?

  2. Knell Says:

    I do not think stealing is the right title for this poem . especially if it was supposed to be a ghost that was doing the stealing . I would thought Taking Something would be a better title for it does not allow the minds of the children who built it to be corrupt
    Knell 22

  3. destiny Says:

    Your No. is NOT “up”…you hit the Jackpot….

    Yeah..I like it as well…but also agree with the person above me, what the title concerns….My favorite poem? Well..I must admit, it’s one I wrote for my son…(who’s now 35 yrs. already)…because I regretted soooo many “things” I didn’t “do”, when he was small…and now…he’s grown…and I haven’t seen him since 1993….I miss my Jason….

    I have a copy for you, my friend…

    To My Grown-up Son

    My hands were busy through the day
    I didn’t have much time to play
    The little games you asked me to…
    I didn’t have much time for you.

    I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook
    But when you’d bring your picture book
    and asked me please to share your fun…
    I’d say:”A little later, son”.

    I’d tuck you in all safe at night
    and hear your prayers, turn out the light
    Then tiptoe softly to the door…
    I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

    For life is short, the years rush past…
    A little boy grows up so fast.
    No longer is he at your side…
    his precious secrets to confide.

    The picture books are put away,
    there are no longer games to play,
    no good-night kiss, no prayers to hear…
    That all belongs to yesteryear…

    My hands, once busy, now are still.
    The days are long and hard to fill…
    I wish I could go back and do…
    The little things you asked me to

    Oh…well…now I got tears in my eyes…and feel sad…wish I could see him…(he’s living at Houston, Tx)- send you my best wishes from Germany with all my love….your friend…Annette****

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