Coming Out

He told his mum that he was gay

And familiar language changed that day.

As poof was a word she could not say,

Her footstool became the lounge pouffee.

Something strange was no longer queer

Everything was now odd, my dear.

And Elizabeth Two was not the Queen

It was Her Majesty on the screen.

She now checked out his every mate

Asking if they were gay or straight.

And if two girls came to stay

She wondered if they leaned ‘that way’

He had to say, Mum please don’t fuss

You’re just exhausting all of us.

My friends, except the odd one or two,
Are as varied and normal as me and you.

The Diddie-Di-Diddie Club

There are some clubs that cost a fortune to join
And you can't get in if you don't have the coin.
Others have member numbers so small
It's a wonder the clubs survive at all.

There are gentlemen's clubs for men in suits
With faithful trustees who polish their boots.
And workers' clubs where entry's so hard
That you can't get in without a Union card

There are clubs for people who like to talk
And clubs for those who run, cycle or walk.
If your club is one where you own a gun
You can go to the range and have some fun.

You can play scrabble and euchre and gin
Depending on the club you're in.
If you're smart you can join Mensa.
If not so smart, there's always Densa.

But my friend John said the club for him
Was one that anyone was allowed to be in.
You've probably heard how people say:
Diddie-Di-Diddie? when someone passes away.

Did he die, did he?
RIP my friend.

Millionaire

I am a millionaire, in fact, a multi-millionaire.
There are so many lotteries where I've won a share.
There is a twenty million windfall in a bank in LA
And half a billion in Europe to be given away.

How did this happen to a thrifty saver like me?
I don't risk anything unless it's free.
And you'd think that even I should recall
If I'd  gambled and bought a ticket at all.

There's money to earn if I'm feeling kind;
An African man left his fortune behind.
He'll pay me hundreds of thousands in cash
If I'm prepared to help smuggle out his stash.

An Arab sheikh with no family or friend
Wanted to buy into paradise at life's end.
He chose me at random to be his heir
So I have his oil fortune just waiting there.

You'd think I'd be rushing to grab that wealth.
I'm not in a panic. I still have my health.
I'll have plenty more years till my life is done
When I get that money, I'll have lots of fun.

The money's still there. I don't have to hurry
I keep getting emails so I don't have to worry.
It's a matter of when to collect each one
So I can guarantee a regular (and large)  income.

I'll get myself organised, get up to speed
And open the joint bank accounts I need
Then I send account names and passwords and stuff
Then, all that money! There's more than enough.

Things are apparently too hard overseas
So I need to deal with the up-front fees.
But of course I'll get it back in no time
When these lotteries and bequests are finally mine.

I'll pay ten thousand here, half a mill there
It's not a lot when there's so much to share
I'm really happy to pay that small advance
With such a windfall - such a wonderful chance.

When the formalities are done and paperwork too
And I've paid what I need to get the money through
I'll gather that money from the world everywhere
Then sit back and enjoy being a millionaire.

Too Hot to Handle

When we were kids we learned to fear
The Irish priests we should hold dear.
And Irish nuns scared us as well
With their constant threats of hell.

But those fears disappeared faster
When we got a different kind of pastor.
The bishop said that we were blessed,
Our Indian priest was the very best.

As we got to know the priest
He invited each to share a feast.
At home he'd never learned to cook
Now tried new recipes from the book.

His theory was - if you're not sure
Go ahead and add some more.
When he wasn't certain of the taste
He'd put in a bit more chilli paste.

I didn't know what lay before me
When he invited me to tea.
I told him, Yes, I love all food
And the dinner sure smells good.

He piled my plate with rice and meat
I could almost feel the heat
My lips and throat began to swell
He'd made his curry hot as hell.

I took a gulp of water, fresh and clean
That instantly turned into steam.
I followed up with cool cucumber
And sucked on ice cubes without number.

I dropped a piece for the dog to chew
And it burned a hole right through my shoe.
The dog stayed skulking near the door
It had learned not to clean the floor.

A thousand taste buds died that night
And sinuses were cleared out right.
And, a double bonus, you might say,
My innards emptied out next day.

Another Cost-Cutting Solution

One of the downsides of being retired at all
Is being home when telemarketers call.
I tell the truth - that's just what I do
But sometimes I get to spin a yarn or two.

Yes, I say, that is me, it's true
And yes I'm very well thank you.
Are you the same Mr Ray
Who rang me up just yesterday?

No? Did you perhaps give me a call
While I was shopping last week at the mall?
No? Are you sure you didn't ring
And try to sell me a holiday thing?

So, if I don't know you, why call me?
You must have friends you'd rather see.
Oh! you have a special offer to make
A real bargain I would want to take.

Yes, you're right I'm retired of course.
I'm no longer in the working force.
And thank you yes, my life is stable.
I live simply while I'm able.

I've lived long enough that I just don't care.
When I'm dead my kids will share.
They'll sell the house and pay the bills
And sort out probate on my will.

No, I don't think this will be a drain.
In fact I think I know their game.
Before we continue, I have to know
If this is recorded as we go.

Well then, please stop it there,
I have personal things to share.
It's off? Because this is a mobile phone
My address and location are not shown?

I don't want a supervisor listening in
Or new team members learning the spin.
When you tell me it's just me and you
I'll tell you what my kids will do.

There was a time many years ago
When I felt my first husband should go.
For months I let my friends believe
That he was packing and about to leave.

After weeks of sharing the news of his trip
I accidentally let it slip
That he'd met a sweet senorita in Spain
And would never be coming home again.

Meanwhile my kids who are usually passive
Had started stockpiling hydrofluoric acid.
Those who watch movies and TV crime know
How to dispose of a body leaving nothing to show.

We needed the acid to give us more time
It does the job faster than lye and lime.
By the time our mission had been completed,
Every trace of him had been deleted

There wasn't a search or any such fuss
They thought the bastard had abandoned us.
We didn't have a funeral or similar costs
We got off cheaply with the body just lost.

My kids have inherited my thrifty ways
They won't spend money if they can save.
And if there's no chance of an investigation
Why spend on a burial or cremation?

I'm finding travel brochures left on my bed
And there's a new lock on the boating shed.
I strongly suspect they'll do it their way
And I'll end up in a vat, all melted away.

So, though I would be keen on the service you give
There's not much point from where I live.
I'm pretty sure that I would choose it
If I thought for a moment my kids would use it.

(I am not fixated on death and details. I am just bombarded with calls about funeral insurance. Part of me resents my time being wasted while part of me relishes the opportunity to be creative - and there are only so many times I can use the 'Get Stuffed' story..)

There's more than one way ..

The cockroaches in the north are a pain,
They've all come in out of the rain.
All night they swarm around inside
Making no attempt to hide.

I have just done a child minding tour
And one thing I know for sure
Whenever I open any door
There'll be cockies racing round the floor.

I waged a wondrous battle last night
With a monster insect for me to fight.
He had the cheek to crawl under my bed
Believe me, I wanted his head.

I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the spray
He wouldn't see the light of another day,
If this was the very last thing I did.
I twisted and turned and cursed the lid.

From the corner of my eye I saw him move
So I did what the Greenies would approve.
I used the handiest weapon to hand
And squashed him with the base of the can.

You've got to Smile

I love to get my photos printed in a book.
I spend endless hours deciding how it should look.
I fuss around with colour, shapes and frames
Always making sure that pages aren't the same.

I never use the wizard - I'm pretty good myself -
The proof is forty books or more sitting on the shelf.
I've done hundreds of others for kids at the school.
I'm trying to say that I'm really no fool.

But when I start the upload, my problems begin
The most annoying thing is when I can't log in.
 I've been working for days at a time on this site
 Now they tell me my password or name is  not right

I can't ring them - the office has been shut for a while
So I dash off an email to someone called Smile.
I say that their smile has not come through to me.
The smile's not contagious - not that I can see.

But that someone (Smile) knows to cut anger in half
By forcing this cranky old biddy to laugh.
I settle back to my task with a grin on my dial -
He or she changed my password to 'Smile'.

You Go, Girl

I took my sister to the hospital last night
She was drawn with pain and she looked a sight.
She thought her head was about to burst
And  severe chest pain made us fear the worst.

Emergency departments are always very busy
But we went right in because she was feeling dizzy.
They put her on a trolley and took her to a room
Because dying in the foyer really casts some gloom.

She saw doctors and nurses in a steady steam
We couldn't fault the professional team.
Her pulse was racing and blood pressure so highw
That  she said she almost wished she could die.

They put a needle in her arm and attached her to a drip
And started pumping pain killers to slow things down a bit.
They booked her in for X-rays and arranged for a scan
And ticked off on a list all the tests they ran.

They couldn't get a wheelchair so they asked if she could walk
As she headed down the corridor, they watched her like a hawk.
She was still in dreadful pain and swerved from wall to wall.
Still feeling very wobbly, she staggered along the hall.

I watched her going down the corridor, heading for X-ray
In that dreadful gown, with her bottom on display.
Much as I love her, I can say with honesty
That hospital gowns do nothing for your pride and modesty.

She held the the gown closed behind her with one shaky hand
Steering with the other the ungainly wheeled drip stand.
They ruled the 'nasties' out with a dozen tests that night
Apparently there was nothing likely to kill her outright.

They had checked her heart and lungs and chest and brain
There were no lumps or tumours to explain the awful pain.
She was not at risk of a stroke or heart attack or death
They couldn't find a reason why it hurt with every breath.

So once again they spiked her drip with even stronger stuff
I guess they thought they still hadn't given her enough
I'm not sure what they put in it but it worked like a dream
The headaches and the chest pains disappeared it seemed.

She gave a cheery wave and took a determined grip
Of the tall stand that held the tubes and bags and drip
She put her foot on the cross piece and scooted down the hall
Zipping in and out and making chairs and trolleys fall.

She scooted through the foyer dodging people's feet
And through the canteen where the staff members eat.
She fended off a kid with a plastic shield and sword
As she took a shortcut through the little children's ward.

A dozen security guys were skidding across the floor
Trying to head her off before she reached the door.
But she put on a burst of speed, reaching about fifty-five
As she really hit her stride and raced off down the drive.

Her gown swing wide around her. It was not a pretty sight
Covering not a skerrick of her bottom gleaming white.
The doctor shook her head: We'll soon see her again
But I can say that for the moment she's not feeling any pain.


(I am lucky enough to have four sisters, so each can point to another as the heroine of the poem.)

I Did Not have a Fall

Believe me, I did not have a fall.
That only happens when you're old.
Sure, I tripped and and yes I fell
But that is not what you'll be told.

I might have come a cropper
And nosedived near the door.
I maybe even took a tumble,
Measuring my length on the floor.

I went end over end and head over heels,
A over T, and bum over brain.
I took a quick landbased dive
And faceplanted near the laundry drain.

Perhaps I had a topple, tumble or trip
I certainly turned base up over apex.
I went arse over tea kettle too
And definitely went for a six

I plummeted to the ground
I bit the dust and took a spill
What ever words you want to use
Call it what you will -
I did not have a fall.

(And it wouldn't have been half so bad if I hadn't  lost my towel in the process and had to be helped up wet and naked by my host)

Carpet Bindies

There should be a special kind of hell
Fire, brimstone and torture as well
For all those little girls and boys
Who don't pick up their games and toys.

It is easy enough to avoid a bike
Left around by some little tyke
And cars and trucks left out on a mat
Are a nuisance but no more than that.

Skipping ropes are a booby trap
And little toys are so much crap
I'm sure you'll agree when I confess
Monopoly money makes a mess.

But Lego pieces make you aware
If your toes are tender and feet are bare
The edges are sharp and the surfaces rough
When kids are playing, they look innocent enough.

But if you're walking around in the night
Not disturbing others by using a light
And just one piece of Lego is left on the floor
That's where you step, for certain and sure.

It embeds itself in your vulnerable sole,
The smaller the piece the bigger the hole.
It won't fall off, no matter how you stand

Lego's solution - padded Lego slippers

You'll simply have to remove it by hand.

You're still half asleep and your balance is zip
If you bend down to shift it, you're likely to tip
Going base over apex won't be much fun
And on top of that, will wake everyone.

So you scrape your foot across the mat
Trying hard to flick it off like that
You rub your foot against the wall
And try to make the Lego fall.

Eventually you know you'll sit on the floor
And dig it out before it gets too sore.
And you mutter words of rainbow hues
And phrases you say that you never use.

I'd like to hear Lego's explanations
How they've survived three generations
When every parent has survived the drastic
Midnight tussle with that deadly plastic.

(Thanks to Tanya for the title - a term for Lego that I hadn't heard before.)

Oh Rats!

I went to a meeting last night with a friend
Close to the Chinese New Year
The Year of the Monkey is starting now
But only one Monkey was there.

The place was over-run with Rats
More than half the room had that sign.
There were also two Tigers, three Dogs and a Snake,
The only year with a Monkey was mine.

To most of us the Rat is not exciting
But for the Chinese, the Rat's at the top.
It symbolises flexibility, spirit and wit
Alertness, vitality and energy non-stop.

When all or any of those traits are displayed
I can no longer think of rodents as squeaking
They'd have to be the movers and shakers
In Toastmasters clubs for public speaking.

I was the single Monkey last night
Out-numbered by far but never out-smarted.
Clever and wily, not necessarily nice -
But up-beat always and never down-hearted.

I'm not sure about the zodiac signs
But I'd like to learn more about that
To see why the club had a limited range
And most of them were Rats.

Monica Monkey 16 January 2016

Foxy Mudllark Paperclip - Reflections on Celebrity Names

Is being a celebrity a reason to choose
A name for their offspring that no one would use?
Their poor little kids bear the brunt of the shame
While the ridiculous parents are totally to blame.

Would you call your girl North, if your surname was West?
Is Tu a good name if Morrow forms the rest
Mars Merkarba is a girl and Royal Reign too

And Cricket and Birdie and Daisy Boo.

If Prince is the name of your eldest son
Why use the same name for the younger one?
There are thousands of perfectly good names to use
There must be something individual to choose.

Dakota, Killarney and Texas have become almost common
So why raise an eyebrow at Egypt and Moroccan?
Moxie Crimefighter may join the police force
For Pilot Inspektor - a flight instructor, of course

Sparrow James Midnight sounds very cool
But how will Audio Science cope at school?
Do you think Zuma Nesta Rock would ever be seen
Out in public with Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen?

I wonder if Makoa-Wolf  will think it funny
To terrorise young Mirabella Bunny..
And is it likely that  Moses Amadeus
Will share his lunch with Satchel Seamus?

Some of these kids may be spared some pain
When one half of their name is relatively sane.
Bluebelle Madonna and Elsie Otter may conform
To what most of us consider to be the norm.

But perhaps each of us thinks our name is good
And probably wouldn't change it if we could.
I look at old Uncles, Aunts and Grans
And wonder how they could bear their names -

Blanche and Mildred, Maud and Flora
Myrtle and Enid, Gertrude and Norah
Henry and Harvey, Maurice and Ned
Leonard, Lawrence, Bartholomew and Fred.

When I consider the views of the generation ahead
I wonder if they muttered and shook their head
At plain Margaret and Betty, Mary and Anne
Brian and Denis, Terry and Dan.

However some parents are way over the top
And really don't know when to stop.
The nickname Luna seems just fine
But her whole name won't fit on a line.

Don't you feel sorry for Rosalind Arusha Arkadina Altalune Florence Thurman-Busson 

Some names are heavy loads for kids to carry

Christmas in January, February, March ...

By Boxing Day or New Years Day
Or sometimes a few weeks on
Most Christmas gifts have lost their gloss
And some are  already gone.
But some things last for months or years
And some may never leave
All those sweet indulgences
Beginning on Christmas Eve.

We've filled a glass and drunk a toast
In champagne, punch or beer
Wishing all our friends the best
For Christmas and New Year.
We've built our own traditions
And some treats we always have
Because Christmas isn't Christmas
Without ice-cream, cream and pav.

But we wonder if it's worth it
Though everything tastes good
When New Year padding is what's left
Of the delicious Christmas pud.
And all those sweets and savouries
That we really had to taste
Are the longest lasting Christmas gifts
Around our hips and waist.