Ninety-Five

 Received from my cousin Gillian

NINETY FIVE

Miscellany

No longer am I an Essex man
now Norfolk by adoption.
Essex may be very glad or even sad,
but Norfolk had no option.

I once wrote with understanding
of the chap up on the landing
who didn’t know if he was going up or down.
Now I have no landing but a better understanding
of the foibles that bring misting
to the windows of the mind.

Eleven years ago I received a MENSA award.
Today alas that is all going by the board.
Although I’m getting podgy and eyesight more dodgy
I can still count on my fingers up to ten.
IQ gone for a burton does it mean for certain
I’m a late developer in the digital age?

Maybe second childhood would suggest a new tutor,
extending knowledge via a simple computer.
But with modems and software it’s a safe bet
I would quickly be trawled up in the dot com net.
So it seems without doubt computers are out.
When I get to ten I must start all again.

Myriads of little ads. confront us with persistence.
Stair lifts, armchairs, various baths offering assistance.
An idea struck me for an ad. to beat the lot.
Picture Victor Meldrew on an adjustable bed,
trapped in extreme contortions it must be said,
heading “I don’t believe it” (No creative payment please)
I’ll settle for a percentage of repeat fees.
Could I now join this gravy train?
Not while I have the horse’s collar for my neck pain.

One thing that gives me comfort alright is having
Amy at my bedside through the night.
In case I give the wrong idea I hasten to make it clear,
Amy is the official name of the pendant button on its chain
that keeps me in contact as I roam
from my alarm telephone!

www.E&OE

Whoops!!  For Amy read Amie

    Frank L Ashen

       RETURN TO LIST OF POEMS

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