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Christmas Aunties

Posted by Macjoyce on September 7, 2008 - 14:54

Each year
my dear
old Auntie
Elsie,
not quite
a Chelsea
pensioner
but can’t see
too clear
or mention a
fight
in a local
car park
without
waxing
vocal
about
men
a lot
and not
relaxing,
says
aardvark
when
she means
ardent,
bless
the workings
of her head,
and sergeants
instead
of sardines.
Auntie
Jean
scavenges
in the fridge
for gherkins
and sangria
and challenges
her blistered
and ganglier
sister,
Fay,
to a game
of bridge.
For shame!
She can’t be
a blame-
less wench
and play
on the garden
bench
instead
of my bed-
room ledge,
damn her,
pardon
my French
and sledge-
hammer
annoyance.
Auntie
Ida
attempts
clairvoyance
and warbles
by the
baubles.
Can’t she
pack it
in,
the din,
the racket?
She tempts
fate
and stuff
with a plate
of plum
duff
and some-
times rum.
Auntie
Elizabeth
witters an’
fibs
in Citizen
Smith
Women’s
Lib
shibboleth
murky
myths
over
the turkey
and trimmings
and grants me
a bit
of sherry
if I sit
on the sofa,
act
very
perky
and distract
less.
Auntie
Jess
always
stands
in hallways,
hands
on hips
and honour
on her
lips.

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Comments

Silver Spun Sand | September 7, 2008 - 18:23

Herr Mac - shall I make the most obvious remark and say this is a very long poem.

Enjoyed every word and found the line-breaks quite avant-garde. Actually, they do work very well and add to the general quirkiness of the piece.

I once had an Aunt Ida - well she wasn't really my aunt. I just called her that. She wasn't a clairvoyant though, she was a Civil Servant who did some kind of top secret work at Admiralty Arch.

My fave lines:-

"... damn her,
pardon
my French
and sledge-
hammer
annoyance."

Frau Silbensand;-)

FTSE100 | September 7, 2008 - 21:11

Just discovered that you are Biggus. Does that mean that Biggus is you? Was it a fair exchange?

I can't get your Ebenezer the cockney geezer out of my head. What are you doing to me?

Macjoyce | September 8, 2008 - 14:32

Guten Tag, Frau Silberngesponnensand. This is actually not a very long poem, but the daftly short lines just make it look like one. The reason why the poem is so silly is because I wanted everything in the poem to rhyme with something else. Each little line rhymes with something.

I don't really have an Auntie Ida, unfortunately. It just rhymes with 'by the'. Facking Ida, eh?

www.myspace.com/norwichfacetransplant

Macjoyce | September 8, 2008 - 14:36

Yes, FTSE, Biggus is a comedy alter-ego of mine. I never get bored of him.

Are you doing your Frank Butcher impression with your "What are you doing to me?"? All you need to do now is pinch the bridge of your nose and say "Pat, Pat, sweet'eart", or "Ricky, son".

www.myspace.com/norwichfacetransplant

FTSE100 | September 8, 2008 - 15:05

So both you and Biggus are Biggus? That must be a little uncomfortable, and there's nobody left to be you. For my part, I'm the only Me I've got, so I take great care of it.

It always pays to be frank with your butcher. I have no secrets from mine.

littleditty | September 8, 2008 - 23:56

still like it, this poem with the word shibboleth - fancy a sherry? tyNick of the Jungle xx

Macjoyce | September 9, 2008 - 10:45

Shibboleth is a great word, I had to get it in. Re-reading the poem, actually yes, aren't you my Auntie Elizabeth?

www.myspace.com/norwichfacetransplant

littleditty | September 10, 2008 - 17:31

all the trimmings and a round or two with Aunty Jess? ...hope you are well Macstroodle, women eh? xx