Five Holiday Poems
Stan Proper, Professor
Department of Humanities, Social Sciences, and Management
An Old Baby
Toothless,
Hairless,
Drooling.
Most life has left,
But death rejects
84 year old Ralph.
Skilled ivory tickler
For his friends’ fancy
Since his teens,
Skilled score reader
Conducting well
The airwaves,
Cowering now, he
Whimpers and waves
The music away as if
It were some threat.
He knows no one
Not even himself
As Alzheimer’s
Eats him alive.
Toothless, hairless,
An aged baby,
Gone around, and
Coming around.
Professor Ed
The whole world is
Totally screwed up.
Professor Ed sucked
A chicken bone clean.
PhD, no job,
Eating at a shelter.
Got no income,
No hope, tossed
Into the street like
So much garbage.
There’s a poem stuck
Into the American Dream.
Funny how our parents
Sparkled and spent,
Borrowed like bandits,
Lived on some gigantic
Wheel of Fortune.
Busted...all of ‘em.
Can’t send kids to school,
So it’s nada, zip for me.
See me! the PhD
In the soup kitchen.
That’s your poem, man.
Papa Smurf
"Good meal" said
Papa Smurf,
A Long Island regular
And its overcrowded
Shelter.
"Now, get me a job,
Some respectability
And I’d be content."
He chuckled like a
Too sober, sad Santa.
"Strange," he
said,
Pointing to the prim
"Burb volunteers
Dishing out the
Thanksgiving food.
"It’s those sparkling
Yuppie Yahoos who
Broke the economy.
Some of ‘em suffer.
Down here, we all do.
Yet! Good meal.
Now, about tomorrow’s
Lunch," said Papa
Smurf.
Bad Breath Bob
"Liked the mashed taters,
Stuffin' and gravy.
Yella squash, warm pie...
All that stuff
I can gum...ya know."
Bob gave me a toothless
Grin of satisfaction.
"Look at all them pretty
Gals dishing up chow.
Come down here twice a year,
Forget us for the rest.
Little prissy miss
Wouldn't say hello 'cept
Over turkey.
They'll go home
To their 'burbs and
Tell stories about us
To their friends.
Damn it!
We've got a winter
To get through yet.
Grandpa Ty
We told Tyrone
To eat slowly.
We said his old stomach
Couldn't take it.
"How long since ya et, Ty?"
He smiled, "I forget."
Course, all that
Dark turkey meat,
Stuffing, yella squash,
And heaps of
Mashed taters and gravy
Was too much and
Ty was sick as a dog.
"Damn!" he said.
"One decent meal 'n
I gotta lose it."
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