Tag Archives: inheritance

Precious Things

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Precious Things

When lucky heirs received the shipment of their auntie’s things,
full of photos, pots and pans, old hats and silver rings,
mismatched shoes, a wash tub and an armchair that was armless,
a flintlock rifle that was jammed, ammunition-less and harmless,
they fondly combed the contents of her varied life—
her times as daughter, student, lover, wanderer and wife.
Her time spent in the orchestra, the years that she just wandered,
gypsy skirts and cowboys boots and bride’s dress that she laundered
years ago, then paper-wrapped and carefully put away
high up in a cupboard, just in case one day
one of her sister’s children was in much duress
searching for a favorite vintage wedding dress.
Boxes full of letters, old toys and souvenirs—
all of life’s remainders collected through the years.
What are they to do with these reminders of her living—
memorabilia of her life she took such joy in giving?
Call the second hand store to pick up the armless chair,
the tables and and sofas and all the kitchenware.
Pack away the photos and the eyeless teddybear
and put them in the storage space beneath the lowest stair
along with all their own stuff that they can’t throw away
so they can pass it on to their own kids some future day.

Prompts today are lucky, shipment, orchestra, heir and harmless.

Dark Rites of Inheritance

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Dark Rites of Inheritance

What was it you discovered under the Union Jack
packed in Grandma’s quilt chest, way back in the back?
I saw the glowing of your torch as you bore it away,
breaking the rule that all be shared in the light of day.

I find your act egregious, and yet I will not tell.
It’s just my curiosity I’ll ask for you to quell.
I need not share your treasure or regulate your act.
When I give my word, I’m the epitome of tact.

What is that you cradle? Is it a jewel or flask?
One viewing of your treasure is the only thing I ask.
Why raise it there above your head in the moonlight’s glow?
I cannot see what’s in your hand down here so far below.

Your movement now so swift and sure, seconds to stop from start.
I feel a trickling down my chest, a swift pain in my heart.
How cruel that even now you keep your secret all unshared.
Who would expect such evil acts from Grandma’s favored laird?

Nothing disputes you as her heir. It’s yours, castle and land,
except, perhaps, that parchment I see gripped tight in your hand.
My life has not been perfect. You have not loved me well.
How perfect that I’ll be the one you’ll later join in Hell!

 

Prompts today are jack, torch, egregious, regulate and rule.

The Windfall

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The Windfall

My auntie was a millionaire and left it all to me.
For sure it was a windfall, but windfalls don’t come free.
With money money everywhere, I’ve not a drop to spend.
The tax men took so much of it, I thought they’d never end.
Then friends all asked me for a loan and how could I say no?
My brother’s operation increased the money flow.
My doggies needed flea baths. My kitty needed spaying.
My neighbor asked me for a loan. His fruit trees needed spraying.
My friendly local banker called me on the phone.
Not to ask for a deposit, but to ask me for a loan!
The plastic surgeon of my wife just put me on his dockets
which meant a lift  for me, of course, but simply of the pockets.
Now my kids all want new cars. My aunties prefer rings.
All of those that I hold dear now simply want new things.
When I try to talk to them, my words escape their ears.
They only want to talk about their loans now in arrears.
So when you ask me what I spend my million bucks on, friend,
my answer only takes one word, repeated end-to-end.
I lend and lend and lend and lend and lend and lend and lend.

This is a rewrite of a poem written three years ago.The prompt today was inheritance.

The Daily Post: The Windfall

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Today’s prompt  was “Gone With The Windfall”:  You just inherited $1,000,000 from an aunt you didn’t even know existed. What’s the first thing you buy (or otherwise use the money for)?

The Windfall

Money money everywhere and not a drop to spend.
The tax men took so much of it, I thought they’d never end.
Then friends all asked me for a loan and how could I say no?
My brother’s operation increased the money flow.
My doggies needed flea baths. My kitty needed spaying.
My neighbor asked me for a loan. His fruit trees needed spraying.
My friendly local banker called me on the phone.
Not to ask for a deposit, but to ask me for a loan!
The plastic surgeon of my wife just put me on his dockets
which meant a lift  for me, of course, but simply of the pockets.
Now my kids all want new cars. My aunties prefer rings.
All of those that I hold dear now simply want new things.
When I try to talk to them, my words escape their ears.
They only want to talk about their loans now in arrears.
So when you ask me what I’d spend my million bucks on, friend,
my answer only takes one word, repeated end-to-end.
I’d lend and lend and lend and lend and lend and lend and lend.