This one is for Margaret Surin in distant Canada and Samit Datar in equidistant Australia who, coincidentally, lived in the old neighbourhood and always enquired about my lack of writing over the past months. I know it has been a long, long time!
Disclaimer: All characters in this poem are purely fictional and any reference to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Uncle John
The old biddies in the lobby were all a-twitter,
As they congregated in their social media sphere,
Climbed their moral high horse, declared his ways he will not mend,
And graffitied the building walls, Uncle John has a girlfriend!
Now you would understand if they were teenage girls,
Trilling behind the school shed, Johnny's gone off the bend,
As around him, they create dark, ominous vampire swirls,
For Johnny at ten and sixty was bucking a whole new trend!
Add some more gruesome grist to the rumour cauldron,
Some perched and watched surreptitiously smoulderin'
Hands bound in dirty linen, they stirred like Macbeth's witches,
And clucked, chuckled and tut-tutted like insane bitches!
Uncle John is moonlighting with a broad,
He invites her home, closes windows and doors,
They say he performs ghastly deeds with a rod,
While listening to satanic music on his iPod!
Not so long ago, Johnny was the darling of the community,
He could do no wrong, his mind was tough and strong,
He said his prayers, worshipped at the altar of integrity,
Suddenly, he fell from grace, maligned by this faithless throng!
They shunned his much-maligned society,
They accused him of gross impropriety,
They called to question his sobriety
And wondered why they were not picked for variety!
Around his business they assumed an air of property,
They informed kit, kin, neighbours and indignant heirs,
Who wondered if they would lose their hefty shares,
You cannot do this, cannot do this, they cried, incessantly!
She was half his age, their parting, sorrowful moans,
The witches gathered, cast the first self-righteous stones,
Uncle John foresaw an empty bed, loneliness in his old age,
As younger men cursed their luck, bit their lips in silent rage!
Antonio
Disclaimer: All characters in this poem are purely fictional and any reference to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Uncle John
The old biddies in the lobby were all a-twitter,
As they congregated in their social media sphere,
Climbed their moral high horse, declared his ways he will not mend,
And graffitied the building walls, Uncle John has a girlfriend!
Now you would understand if they were teenage girls,
Trilling behind the school shed, Johnny's gone off the bend,
As around him, they create dark, ominous vampire swirls,
For Johnny at ten and sixty was bucking a whole new trend!
Add some more gruesome grist to the rumour cauldron,
Some perched and watched surreptitiously smoulderin'
Hands bound in dirty linen, they stirred like Macbeth's witches,
And clucked, chuckled and tut-tutted like insane bitches!
Uncle John is moonlighting with a broad,
He invites her home, closes windows and doors,
They say he performs ghastly deeds with a rod,
While listening to satanic music on his iPod!
Not so long ago, Johnny was the darling of the community,
He could do no wrong, his mind was tough and strong,
He said his prayers, worshipped at the altar of integrity,
Suddenly, he fell from grace, maligned by this faithless throng!
They shunned his much-maligned society,
They accused him of gross impropriety,
They called to question his sobriety
And wondered why they were not picked for variety!
Around his business they assumed an air of property,
They informed kit, kin, neighbours and indignant heirs,
Who wondered if they would lose their hefty shares,
You cannot do this, cannot do this, they cried, incessantly!
She was half his age, their parting, sorrowful moans,
The witches gathered, cast the first self-righteous stones,
Uncle John foresaw an empty bed, loneliness in his old age,
As younger men cursed their luck, bit their lips in silent rage!
Antonio
