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.

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.