2 poems from Marj Urquhart

Winter Woes

“My throat is sore, comes the plaintive cry,

She fills the kettle, and gives a sigh.

“I don’t feel well, I’ve got a headache,”

“Have we got any medicine I can take?”

She takes him a cup of coffee in bed,

Puts her cooling hand on his fevered head.

“Best stay home today,” she says, dispensing a pill,

“I’ll phone the office and tell them you’re ill”.

Breakfast over; the kids run for the bus,

She steels herself for the oncoming fuss.

As she packs the washing-up in the sink,

Comes the first request for a lemon drink.

Then a morning cuppa, some nice thin bread,

Another Asprin for his aching head.

Some soup for lunch, served in a cup,

And the radio to help cheer him up.

“I’m lonely, can’t you come give me a hug,”

“Perhaps I could lie on the lounge with a rug!”

“I’m sore from all the coughing and wheezing”

“My nose is stuffy, and I’m tired of sneezing!”

The day has passed and evening arrived,

He’s feeling amazed that he has survived.

She tucks him into bed that night,

She is sure that tomorrow he’ll be “alright”.

Morning; he’s feeling almost like a new man,

She smiles as she dresses, and starts to plan,

To catch up on the housework she’s had to delay.

She leaves him to shave, feeling in good cheer,

Heads for the kitchen, and then she hears,

The voice through her son’s bedroom door,

“Mum, I don’t feel well, my throat is sore!’

Marjorie Urquhart            22/7/1997

 Benjamin Hales.

Have you heard the story of Benjamin Hales ,

Who came from Northern New South Wales .

He lived in a small country town,

And all who knew him put him down.

He kept to himself, there was no-one he’d trust,

 And his family had given him up in disgust.

Then, out of the blue, like a bolt of lightning,

There came some news he found really exciting.

The phone call that came, left him in no doubt,

“I’ve won Gold Lotto” he said with a shout.

Now, in small country towns, secrets are revealed,

Nothing is hidden, and nothing concealed.

The family all loved him, and kept dropping by,

And “hopeful young things” used to give him the eye.

“Enough is enough” he said with a frown,

He packed up his gear, and got out of town.

He headed for Queensland, his future to seek,

Became one of a thousand migrants, a week.

He stopped when he came to a large seaside town,

Moved into a Unit, and began settling down.

And now he’s in business, his fortune increasing,

He’s selling used cars, and the public he’s fleecing.

Now he is happy, Mr. Businessman Hales,

Content to increase his vehicular sales.

His family won’t come near him, the pace is too hot,

He sells them used cars, if they need them or not!!

Marjorie Urquhart            22/10/1995