I’m retired now but started writing in my 40’s in response to a challenging family time bringing up teenage twins. The verses started to come and continued for about 5 years until the dynamic within the family settled down as they prepared to go to University. After that the tap turned off and I only write intermittently now. In my case the urge to capture the thought clearly responds to a highly charged emotional state. Most of the verses I wrote aim to be mildly amusing, often self deprecating and are fairly jaundiced in their viewpoint. They were clearly helpful to me at the time.
My family drama
My families full of people, I suppose that that is no surprise, But relatives are people who are always in disguise. They are cast in all the starring roles; an epic based on you, The stories real; the stunts are tough; the emotion is raw and true. But the actors are my family; I'm supposed to know them best The lines they speak are not a script and can't be second-guessed. We walk our parts and toe the cues and are careful not to stray, The tension of our roles revealed in each successive day. And when they snap and 'people' leak into a family scripted scene, Recognition finally dawns, an awakening from a dream. So what have I learned as lines scrawled, out a cryptic verse across the page, Be gentle with Sons and Daughters, Friends and Wives, or you will be alone upon the stage.
I'm 47 on October 8 My hairs gone grey, I'm overweight. My posture is poor; my muscles creak My kids think I'm old fashioned and call me a freak So what should I expect from late middle age A new lease of life or impotence and rage Respect for my wisdom and valued common sense Or Incomprehension from family and jokes at my expense All things considered I'm not keen on getting old Everything is less cheerful; the weather is too cold I can't dance to 'Thrash'; I'm too fat to be cool I'll just sit in this rocking chair, grind my false teeth and drool
Middle management forum
I went to Middle management forum today 'Oh God' what a catalogue of waste and delay The tedium was palpable and real What's happened to our modernised council's new zeal? The language of the finance chaps When translated seemed about setting traps To hold us to a final reckoning With personal castigation, humiliation and redundancy beckoning Why I ask myself should I play this game? Do all of us sitting in this room feel the same? So what's a Manager to do to cope Role on stress counseling before I abandon hope
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
The beast (19/10/2019)
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