Elephant

 

 

elefante-in-corsa-pink

 

It looked like it would stomp any minute

trumpeting in terror from being woken

after all these years.

What had we done?

What if it went berserk?

Trampled on our good intentions?

Pooped all over the room?

[Have you ever seen elephant poo?]

Or, worse, collapsed on one of us like a slab

Of cement?

 

Uncle Bert

flynn

I remember Uncle Bert.

He had had a stroke.

His mouth was always open

Though he never spoke.

 

He sat on his armchair

Alongside Aunty Pat

Who did the speaking for him.

She was good at that.

 

He once looked a film star

A Gable or a Flynn.

And often charmed the ladies

with a rakish grin.

 

But then one day he emptied

and forever after that

Loyal as a labrador

he followed Aunty Pat.

 

 

to Stand Out

stage

 

I was reading about Miss Jean Brodie

About her being in her prime

her ‘owning’ the stage

Of the classroom

With the forty girls sitting in rows

Looking and listening

 

& I thought

How much blogging is like this

How each of us

Performs on the platform of the page

Seeking to impress

to stand out

To make our ‘mark’ upon

The rows and rows of readers

 

& how one day

Perhaps

A fellow blogger

Will remember our performances

And memorialize us

As Muriel Spark did Miss Kay