I Insist; a poem by Philippa Bower

Mother, I insist you get a cleaner,

Your bungalow will soon be smelling musty

How often do you hoover or sterilise the loo?

And your ornaments are starting to get dusty

Mother, I insist you see a doctor.

Something should be done about your hearing.

I must shout to make you hear above the television’s blare

And the decibels are almost beyond bearing.

Mother, I insist you get a bus pass.

Your driving expertise is below par

You grind when you change gear and meander when you steer

It’s high time you were finished with your car.

Mother, I insist you join a gym club

Your muscle tone is in an unfit state .

You will get a hunched-up back and your pelvic floor will slacken

Till incontinence becomes your final fate.

Mother, I insist you get a mobile,

To call for help if ever you are stuck …

“Help! I’m stuck with a dominating daughter!”

“That’s not funny, Mother.”

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About Rosemary Noble

Writer, author, amateur historian and traveller
This entry was posted in Poem and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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