I thought by now I’d be posting about poetry gigs and all sorts of live events. Well, as we all know, that cannot be the case.
Hands up who thought this Lockdown would all be over by now! I know I certainly did!
So that can mean only one thing! Looking in the Poetry Cupboard!
And look what I found – aren’t they lovely? Now, when playing this game, who didn’t hanker for the glamorous wife, the suave husband or the perfect children in their hand? Only to get some Bore family?! Happy Families could be so loaded with undercurrents of frustration…..
So, I’ve penned a poem about that notorious childhood card game Happy Families.
I always wanted Mrs Daub, the artist’s wife
But I only ever ended up with Mrs Chop,
the unprepossessing Butcher’s spouse,
her rotound red face would glare at me
But Mrs Daub looked at me gently,
a blush appearing on her delicate cheeks,
her ponytail so flawless, her classic
beauty passed onto her perfect children
To complete the picture, Mr Daub
was extremely handsome,
his artist’s smock immaculate,
a black beret pert on his head.
Mr Chop, Mr Chip and Mr Wood
were exceptionally grim.
This was my card game! Why
couldn’t we be like the Daub’s?!
My older cousin snorts – she implies
Mrs Daub has red cheeks from
going round the back of the
timberyard with Mr Chip!
And that the Daub children
were going to Borstal.
And Mr Daub secretly drank!
If you look at them closely, she says,
they’re all bloody miserable.
There’s no such thing as a
perfect family, she sneers.
When was she going home?!
Of course, the miserable cow was right, perfect families only exist in TV shows. However, my cousin would have put a damper on things anyway. A Christmas spent with an older, worldier, miserable cousin can last an awful long time! Especially when they violate my favourite game!
Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back shortly for more poetry antics……. Same time, same channel