[John Whitworth]

Assorted Relatives

Who's that lurking by the lake?
Only Cousin Maisie
Lurking by the murky lake,
Looping in the gloopy lake,
Shimmering like a watersnake,
Through the morning hazy,
Do you suppose she's going crazy?

Who's that skipping through the forest?
Only Uncle Sprod
Skipping naked through the forest,
Scattering garlands in the forest,
Like an agitated florist,
Like a nature god
Do you suppose he’s getting odd?

Who's that skating up the lane?
Only Grandma Gorbals
Skating up the lamplit lane,
Up the lonely lamplit lane,
Past the doorway, back again,
Singing to her jerbils,
Do you suppose she's lost her marbles?

Who’s that muttering at the window?
Only Grandpa Swivel,
Muttering at the attic window,
Puttering, pottering at the window
Wittering diminuendo
Swivel’s snivel drivel,
Do you suppose he’s seen the devil?

I need to choose two. Which two?

[Brian Allgar]

The first two, because of

Shimmering like a watersnake

and

Scattering garlands in the forest,
Like an agitated florist

(Couldn't resist tinkering, though, and considered 'like a daft demented florist')

[Martin Parker]

An epic from a long-unforgotten family holiday -- and unlikely to appeal to the sometimes rather prim Lucy. Nevertheless .....ON THE BEACH

Surrounded by girls in bikinis
Dad lay on his back on the sand.
For more than an hour he’d been reading
Page Two of the book in his hand.

My Mum had been thanking the Lifeguard
for saving her life, so she’d said
when I’d found them engaged mouth to mouth --
though she’d not seemed the slightest bit dead.

Then Mum’s best friend, Jan, took her top off
at which, with a sort of a grunt,
Dad clasped his hands over his stomach,
turned over and lay on his front.

Mum said his behaviour was shameful
and Dad said that Mum couldn’t talk.
Then Dad laughed when Mum took her top off --
and next day we went for a walk.

[John Whitworth]

Then, Brian, should I change Cousin to Auntie so as to have Aunties and Uncles. I shall consider your emendation, which is good. Somehow Cousin Maisie sounds better. It's just relatives, after all.

I like yours, Martin. A Mcgill postcard really. Or is it MacGill?

[Brian Allgar]

I think 'Cousin Maisie' and 'Uncle Sprod' are fine. No need to auntify Maisie.

[Brian Allgar]

I shouldn't worry about Lucy, Martin. I'm sure she can handle a bit of mild suggestiveness. I once sent her some very smutty Shakespeare anagrams that she described as 'ribald', and I didn't have the impression that she was using the term pejoratively. On the other hand, it's true that she didn't actually print my entry ...

[Chris O'Carroll]

After this week's expression of enthusiasm for Ovid, I doubt we need to be concerned about primness. But I wonder how strictly Lucy will construct the phrase "a poem about a relative." Will entries about plural relatives be acceptable? A supporting cast is OK, I imagine, but does one specific relative have to be the obvious central figure in the poem?

[Brian Allgar]

I'm sure it doesn't, Chris. Bring forth the entire menagerie.

It's my impression that Lucy allows far more latitude in that respect than Vicky at the NS.

[Jayne Osborn]

If you did happen to go with Grandma Gorbals, John, it's "gerbils" with a guh.

Jayne

[Nigel Mace]

I'd drop Grandma, John. Apart from any other consideration, I can tell you, having gone to school there, that Gorbals does not rhyme with gerbils.