Migrant Tales Poetry: “Good manners”

by , under All categories, Enrique


My parents taught me such good manners

I always enter my dreams with three-piece suits

Bow to women and hear wonderful waltzes

And agree with everything you say!

My parents taught me such good manners

That I once thanked my executioner for chopping my head off.

As it rolled down a slope

All I could say was thank you, thank you and THANK YOU!

Luckily some carried pity

In their hearts’ pockets

And asked me if I was a refugee

Or some kind of an immigrant.

I tried my best to assimilate:

Thrum! And a great thrust forward!

Another thrum!

Falling down as a loud thud!

Migrant Tales will begin to publish poetry, photographs, short stories and short plays reflecting the livesof immigrants and minorities in Finland and elsewhere. Please send your contributions to [email protected]

  1. Mary Mekko

    Politeness is a fault? Oh dear. That’s a national Finnish trait, please don’t insult it and say that it will lead to their heads rolling down a hill!!!

    On the other hand, do you mean that if the Finns are very polite and tolerant to the new immigrants, sooner or later their hands or heads might be chopped off by the not-so-polite outsiders? Or perhaps their culture destroyed and roll down a hill into the sea?

    Not quite clear what you mean, but beautifully symbolic, Enrique.

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