Bedtime story

Once upon a time, in a far away land
there lived a couple who decided to retire
and enjoy the fruits of their labours.

So they called together their children
and associated grandchildren and all
their dogs and cats and they said to them:

We have decided to take it easy,
so it’s time for you to go.
To make it easy for you, we have decided
to give each of your your favourite things
to take away with you.

So one by one they called
each of their children and associated
spouse and children and dogs and cats
(and in one case a goldfish
who wasn’t very talkative)
and they said, first to Samuel, the eldest:
Sammy, it’s time for you and Irma and
the kids and your dog and cat to leave;
Mammy and I are giving you a
pound of carrots and a pound of fudge gift wrapped”
and they gave them the boot and good luck!
and they said to Lemuel:
Lemmy, it’s time for you and Cassandra to leave;
Mother and I are giving you the
Model T and a pound of fudge gift wrapped”
and they gave them the boot and good luck!
and they said to Gwendolyn:
Gwinnie, it’s time for you and Calvin and
the triplets and the dogs and the gold fish to leave;
Mom and I are giving you the
recipe book and a pound of fudge gift wrapped”
and they gave them the boot and good luck!
and they said to Haliburton:
Bert, it’s time for you and Ziggy and the cats to leave;
Mummy and I are giving you a
certificate for lessons at Fred Astaire Dance Studios
and a pound of no-sugar fudge gift wrapped”
and they gave them the boot and good luck!

The kids stood outside the house on the sidewalk
rubbing their bums and somewhat disconsolate
because they did not know what to do.

to be continued . . .

Posted in fun, Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Waiting for something else

So he’s down to less than half his usual weight:
can’t wait to see if I can see him; he’s a ghost
of his former self, a skinny old withered old guy
my brother in law, and I know he’s living of cancer
but he won’t admit it, nor will his wife.

Summers, years ago we used to sit with binocs
out front of the cottage Sundays and comment
on topless beauties passing on gleaming white boats;
God I miss those days when he and I would
sit on our asses, sipping on Labatt’s Blue
there in the sunlight under the trees and feeling
superior to anyone else and loving the life we had,

But we don’t have now.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Waiting for the curtain

My little son and I were waiting for the show to start.
“They’ll bring down the lights soon,” I said.
Then I realized he was trembling, looking up at
the great chandelier above us.

Some explanation solved that one,
but it made me realize that
we take a lot for granted.

Nobody has told me, has explained
the procedure for
bringing down the lights
that I expect too soon.

I look up at those lights in the night sky
and wish Father would
take me by the hand and explain it.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment