[Brian Allgar]

Sons would have been tidier.

Not necessarily, John. Instead of makeup on the back seat of your car, you might have found used condoms.

[John Whitworth]

On the back seat of my car? I would have had words.

[Douglas G. Brown]

Despite the "predatory banks",
My only source of sorrow for
Financial pain is Uncle Frank’s
Profession as a borrower.

He has a Rockefeller’s taste
For Porsches, women, food, and wine;
The funds he squandered on this waste
Were mostly those of mine.

And Frank had also hedged his bet
(God bless his crooked little soul);
My assets, Frank had pledged to get
Some sort of Fed'ral dole.

Well, poor ol’ me and Uncle Sam
Will yank the plug tomorrow, for
We’ve had our fill of Frankie’s scam
As predatory borrower.

[Jayne Osborn]

Hi Doug,
Should that be "In future"?

Jayne

[John Whitworth]

Dear Dad

Dear Dad, forget that you forgot.
You think it matters? It does not.
Forget the blokes with builders’ bums.
Forget the teenage single mums.
Forget the gays. Forget the blacks.
Forget the bloody council tax.
Forget the horrid eco-crimes
Reported in the Sunday Times.
It’s curtains for the polar bear.
To hell with that. We won’t be there.
Remember Paris in the rain,
Cuban cigars and pink champagne,
Remember Mum. I know you do.
And me, as I remember you.
Welcome Joy. Farewell to Sorrow.
And lunch with me in town tomorrow

[Lance Levens]

I know how we're supposed to spell "boudoir," but couldn't we de-Frenchify it and go with "boodwar"? 1066 and all that.

[Lance Levens]

Uncle Willie

The snotty snow and kickless pot flushed my Uncle Willie out.
Never avuncular, Archie the Bunkerer, never one to pout,
his wife’s bitching, his itching to fly--did I fail to mention the Stout?--

and he's off to begin a whirlwind of sin and don't give a damn who knows.
Bought him some shades, some zip and pommade, a closet of boogy-ty clothes,
then set out to dance the interstates, wherever the wild wind blows.

Maestro of bull and ballyhoo he spit-blistered every dive.
The dance floors whimpered. The bassists bled. The juke. The jump. The jive.
The women begged and begged: no more! and crawled out barely alive.

To sea went he, en plein air, said he, the never anywhere,
The water and wind, the salt and fin--he writes: “I’ve money to spare.”
There in Tahiti--where we’d like to be—as we dream of his Devil may care.

[Mary McLean]

John's Dear Dad is my favourite so far, but it's a strong field.

Our great-uncle Mac likes to tell
of the days when he sprinted quite well:
As soon as I’s telt,
“Every man for hisself!”
I was off like a bat out of Hell.

[Douglas G. Brown]

Originally Posted by Jayne Osborn

Hi Doug,
Should that be "In future"?

Jayne

Jayne,
Thanks for the suggestion. I have made multiple word and tense changes, to make the whole thing more logical.

Of, course, if Uncle Frank were to write a "reply" poem, it would be called "In the Future."

[Madeleine Begun Kane]

Sibling Trickster

“Pick a card,” was a phrase I would hear
As a child, from my brother, all year.
He did card tricks—his hobby.
I’d answer, quite snobby:
“Magician, please go. Disappear!”