This poem was written yesterday, but I didn’t have time or the ability to post it here then. So this morning, here it is.

This rhyming poem is based on something called a paraprosdokian. Click on the link to find more about this odd term. Apparently Winston Churchill was fond of these quirky things. My main writing groups have had some fun with paraprosdokians in the past week or so. People visiting this blog may feel like having a go at using them as creative writing prompts.

This poem isn’t my best ever poem, by a long shot, and if I liked it more I might do more work on it, but I’m happy having just written a poem for the day, and leave it at that. Another piece of creative writing I’ve done is one I’m much more excited about – it’s a short short story (under 1,000 words) and I’m hoping I can get it published somewhere soon. I feel it’s the best short story I’ve written for some time.

Anyway, here’s my poem for 18 April, I’ll be writing a new poem for today and posting it on this blog later today.

 

 

“Where there’s a will, there’s a relative.”

 

When my Aunt delores died, the vultures all flew in,

mouths flapping cruelly and badly tempered.

Speaking ill of the dead, was not for them a sin –

the rumours they all squawked were dire.

These uncles and aunts, dressed in black and publicly mourning,

they denounced my aunt delly, who I’d dearly loved.

They said their words should be my warning

a warning of what, they never said.

But they hung around, examining goods my aunt had left,

calculating worth and who’d get what,

I was the only one who felt bereft,

all I wanted was my aunty back.

But when the will was read, telling us who got what

and detailing the wishes of my Aunty Dell,

it turned out I would get the lot!

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