A Right Pen and Ink

By Turlough
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A Right Pen and Ink
Birthdays come but once a year
And now mine’s been and gone again
So I’ve saved a moment to find the pad
And write this note dear Auntie Gwen
Great thanks to you for the wonderful gift
Of a dodgy Woolworth’s fountain pen
It’s the very thing a young lad would want
On that magical day when he turns ten
You know, my mother’s not entirely chuffed
The whole street heard the row, I think
From the kitchen a tirade of horror shrieked
‘A squid’s been slaughtered in my nice clean sink!’
This pen I’ll treasure though it has its faults
Oozing style in buckets like it oozes ink
I’d been secretly washing my jumper for school
If she’d seen its state she’d have raised a stink
‘You can’t go sending that’ she said
When she saw my script on the once white page
My attempt at gratitude, at being polite
Had put the woman in another rage
‘It’s just a few blots, you can still read the words’
With my trembling voice I failed to assuage
So I’m asking you now for a better pen
In a few more years when I come of age
I didn’t have an Auntie Gwen. Aunties Maggie and Annie in South Shields were the kind benefactresses on this occasion, but they wouldn’t have rhymed.
Image:
My own photograph of my own recently purchased fountain pen that I used to write this very poem, though you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell from this if I hadn’t pointed it out.
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Comments
You can't bear a decent pen
You can't bear a decent pen for writing a letter. ![]()
Enjoyed your poem Turlough.
Jenny.
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I didn’t have an Auntie Gwen.
I didn’t have an Auntie Gwen. Aunties Maggie and Annie in South Shields were the kind benefactresses on this occasion, but they wouldn’t have rhymed ...I like your style
ITOI
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That brought a smile
That brought a much-needed smile today ![]()
I won a fountain pen once (good one, too) in a competition run by The Independent. You had to invent a word. My word was 'Willness' - the condition that overtakes you as you decide to throw a sickie, and have just picked up the phone to call in. It makes your throat sound croaky and your nose sound blocked...
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gwen and pen, works for me
gwen and pen, works for me like when and when and when. So they say. As I go grey. Then bald. Not bold. Like a sqiddly.
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School rules
My secondary school had this crazy rule that you weren't allowed to write in any exercise book with a ball-point pen, only a fountain pen. From the ages of 11 to 17, I went around looking like the Blue Man, my fingers and hands completely covered in ink. I sometimes wonder whether the exposure to noxious chemicals was what sparked my lifelong eczema.
Did anyone else's school have a stupid rule like that?
ITOI
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Heartfelt
It was the dodgy Woolworths pen and what a boy wants (or not) at ten that got me.
You really set the scene with that. Loved it.
Leanne
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