Corrections and Connections

You’re our oldest sister and you’ve always been boss.

We’re finding it hard watching your memory loss.

We know there are times you are lucid and clear

So let me sort out some important things for you, dear.

It has been months since Margaret got back from Rome

And Karen does have a craft room built onto her home.

I doubt Denis had Mum trowelled in with the mortar

And Rod lied about Fiji – he won’t fly over water.

But Trish was never planning to catch a train.

You’re losing your hearing as well as your brain.

They are waiting for rain all over the nation

And she’s doing it tough on her huge cattle station.

Don’t think for a moment Cecily’s buying an urn.

She always thinks we have family to burn.

She’ll leave Mum’s ashes in a bag in a drawer

And they’ll slowly drift out and get swept from the floor.

I know Frank got his email and Tony as well

Keith will have known, it’s Frank’s job to tell.

You assured us you mentioned only ten at the time

As thirteen is hard for rhythm and rhyme.

You named all the sisters and some of the others.

Do you remember the names of your eight lovely brothers?

If they’ve been onto Facebook and checked out your poem

They’ll think you’ve forgotten that you’ve ever known them.

In case you’re losing your marbles and I’m afraid it is so

I’ll tell you the others so that next time you will know.

There’s Barry and Terry and Brian – that’s three

And one of them, darling sister, is actually me.

I hope this is all part of someone else's tale
And you didn't get the urn at an op shop sale.
I understand that your memory's increasingly bad
But even you must know Mum's buried with Dad.

(A possible response from a neglected brother)

Enunciate Clearly Please

I know you love to cook and share your expertise

Preparing beef or lamb or pork using family recipes.

Some of us are happy to have culinary education

And follow the process with a little imagination.

But the picture of what you serve up on the plate

Can be coloured by how well you enunciate.

So John, when you say your pork hock's on the griddle,

Say it slowly and clearly and pause in the middle.

Coup in the Coop

There's a certain pecking order in the chook yard.

But watching it set up can sometimes be hard.

The three new hens seemed to be much the same

Until Beyoncé was given such a fancy name.

She thinks she deserves it. She's an arrogant chook, 

With the attitude that comes from an elegant look.

Her feathers are red with ends etched in light

And gold round her neck looks like jewellery bright.

Whereas Penny is quiet and compact and neat.

She's perfectly formed from her head to her feet.

She eats what she's given, lays an egg every day

And is really quite sweet in her own poultry way. 

Well Henny must know that she isn't a beauty

She doesn't look for a mirror, she just does her duty.

Her feathers are brown  and red  and black

She looks like a refugee from a haystack

Beyoncé goes first when they're let out for the day

It's taken for granted she'll lead the way.

At the end of the day she continues to roam

And the gate gets shut when she deigns to come home.

She flaps up the ladder and claims the top perch

While Henny and Penny are left in the lurch.

They have to make do with the roosts down below

There's nowhere left for them to go.

But  a great commotion one night last week

Showed she had finally got up their beak.

By morning the hen house was covered in fluff

And feathers and toenails and droppings and stuff.

Now Henny and Penny fly to the top of the pen

And Beyoncé waits for a small space then.

They each strut tall with a victorious cluck

For the faded beauty now down on her luck.

Days later there's barely a hint of the coup

Although the pecking order has changed, it's true.

But a flurry of feathers and a scattering of poop

Still tell of the ousting in the chicken coop.

Thanks for Asking

Good morning, Mrs O'Rourke .
This is Unpronounceable Name
From Muffled Company .
How are you this morning?

I am so pleased you asked.
Nobody else seems to care.
My kids don't give a damn.
So let me tell you how I am.

I got up this morning with a very sore arm,
From my shoulder right down to my palm.
Last night I tripped over a mat on the floor
And bashed my shoulder on the edge of the door.
You should see how it's swollen and sore
And today it's aching so much more.

My bruises are purple and black, turning yellow
From the bone at the top right down to my elbow.
And I must have twisted my wrist as I fell
As my hand is all pins and needles as well.
The middle bit is caked with blood that is dried
From where I scratched it on the side.

To cap it off, last week I fell in the yard
And landed in the garden on something hard.
My knee hadn't  been feeling too bad
Since surgeons replaced the one I had.
But now it's grown to twice its size
And the colours are a sight for sore eyes.

I think it was pregnancy that made things go wrong
Before that I'd have said I was strong.
But I developed sciatica in my right hip
And without any warning, I'd suddenly slip
And the pain would spread right up my spine.
If I fall now, that happens every time.

You can imagine that it's been hard to relax
Right knee, left shoulder, and the pain in my back
The painkillers I took nearly drove me insane
And didn't do much to ease the pain
My leg as a result just twitches and tingles
In fact I think they stirred up my shingles

Then this morning I could hardly lift the kettle.
I should have waited to let the pain settle.
But I really needed that first cup of tea
And splashed boiling water all over me.
But I can cover my boobs if I go outside
At least those scars will be easy to hide.

So, thanks again for asking. You've made my day.
Now tell me, what did you ring to say?
Are you there? Hello? Hello?
Oh well, he must have had to go.