It’s Cemetery Sunday. So, not to put too fine a point on it, somebody who’s dead.
My Uncle Norman lived to be 106 but in this poem he’s 98, and I’m 12.
——–
I press this button, do I?
And then the little chap…
Oh, there he goes! Now then
This tortoisey fellow looks
Up to no good to me…
Ha ha! That’s seen him off!
I want the mushroom, do I?
Look at that! He’s twice the size!
Rather like Alice in Wonderland,
Don’t you think?
What’s this chap’s name again?
Mario. Italian…
Mario nel Paese delle Meraviglie…
Oh! Now look! he’s small again.
I think he’s had his chips.
Come on then: you can show me how
To play it properly…
In the kitchen
My mother tells your son
What an antisocial waste of time
The damn thing is.
Tom Juniper Poetry 