Mary Poppins
came elegantly
down to Earth
on obliging clouds.
powdering her nose.
Along with her wealth
of imagination,
she carried her carpet bag.
Other nannies
blew away with
flailing, flapping,
black, boring
umbrellas, more
useless than parasols.
There is only
one Julie Andrews.
All children
deserve her lessons.
Here’s to the doormen,
The porters, the waiters,
The plumbers, the cabbies,
The exterminators…
Here’s to the teachers,
The nannies, the nurses,
Performers and artists
And writers of verses…
Here’s to the athletes,
The mailmen, reporters,
The chefs and the police force
And climate supporters…
Here’s to the builders
And tour guides and cleaners
And research assistants
And medical screeners…
Here’s to repairmen
And bakers and drivers
And farmers and shepherds
And all of the strivers
Who put in the effort,
Most times, to the letter,
To help make our lives
(And their own) so much better.
The wedding venue burnt without flame
the moment we stepped in.
You and I, hand in hand, step by step—
we laughed till our facials started aching,
we danced until the floor grew tired.
That was the story of our first day in love.
Twenty five years after marriage~
we now hardly speak,
our children hardly know us.
We rise too early, return too late,
stealing only minutes for
good morning
and how was your night,
before the routine begins again.
Nannies cradle our children in their arms—
they bathe them, clothe them,
and sing them lullabies meant to be sung by us.
Last night I saw your first gray strand,
glinting as you hurried into your car.
I smiled—you’ve joined
my five-year-old company of grays.
Darling,
how many more years
will we remain strangers tied by rings?
When will our children truly be ours?
Forgive me for leaving this note in your shoes,
but I wanted you to find it
before leaving for work this morning.
In the city, there are benches
Placed where people might
Relax and take a load off,
Which is everybody’s right.
They’re either made of metal
Or old-fashioned painted wood,
Found in parks and promenades or where
They’d do the utmost good.
Most bus stops with a shelter
Have a bench for those who wait
And in playgrounds, there are benches
Where the nannies congregate.
My apartment building spans a block
On quite an average street,
Without a bus stop or a park;
It’s nice, but not elite.
Yet recently, a metal bench,
Three seats’ worth, with a back,
Was placed to give my home address
What other buildings lack –
A place to sit, but no one knows
Who ordered such a thing.
It sounds real good, but there are several
Problems it could bring –
The detritus of strangers,
Which is quite a common sight
And perhaps some noisy revelers
To party through the night.
My street is pretty quiet
And I hope a monkey wrench
Hasn’t landed on it with the
Sudden placement of this bench.
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across the site
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important in their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and other things in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about it
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Weekly”
Ta-Ta!
There’s no one in the playground
When I walk at break of day.
The jungle gyms are empty
Since no climbing’s underway.
The slides and swings are waiting
For the toddlers and the tots
Who, with nannies, moms or dads
Will later come to claim their spots.
And yet this morning, I observed
A woman swinging high,
Her legs a‘pumping with the force
To take her to the sky.
Her little dog sat patiently
Until her steam ran out,
A private moment to enjoy
With no one else about.
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across the site
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important in their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and OTHER THINGS in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about them
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Weekly”
Ta-Ta!
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across the site
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important to their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and OTHER THINGS in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about it
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Unlimited”
Ta-Ta!
deep down in deer hollow near miser governor’s bullfrog swamp
lived bachelor peddler charles mccartney who walked with a stomp
bleating gnarly nannies and bad news billies traveled with him
he named them starbelly, cheeseburger, loud nat and old Jim
the town heard him coming way ahead of the time he’d arrive
screaming goats and bells and loud noises on wagon he’d drive
loud bleating and bawling and manure drops left deep in our road
he was bringing bunches of new merchandise, a big load
Is that the dalmatian nanny, the one from TV?
The other nannies all looked, it was as far as they could see.
Surely not the famous one, the one who does the commercial.
Not the dalmatian nanny named Mrs. T.U. Gurshall!
Mrs. T.U. Gurshall heard but kept her demeanor plain and true.
She had a charge to look after, a tiny human bundle in blue.
The TV ads had not gone to her head, she needed this job today.
She did her best at ignoring the gawkers, and quickly walked away.
I once had a nanny named Sue
Always loved drinking Mountain Dew
Loudly she slurped,
And then she burped
After she had sipped on the brew.
I once had a nanny named Rosalee
She loved to rock me on her ample knee
Rosalee up and died
I cried and cried and cried
But I know she is in heaven with Thee.
Written October 10, 2021
My bench provides a perfect view
Of people on parade.
I love to watch each passing person
Artfully displayed.
Some taxi yellow hi-top sneakers,
Jeans with ripped-up knees,
Tie-dye sweatshirts, neon caps
And college-boasting tees…
A toddler on a scooter
With a helmet rosy pink,
A couple on a nearby bench
With wine in cups to clink…
The dog folk pulling leashes
And the bikers blasting rap,
The nannies wheeling babies
Holding toys or in a nap.
A New York stew of humans
Makes the afternoon so nice,
The flavors so appealing
With variety the spice.
In the fantasizing brains of all Nigerian Fulanis,
Including their kindergarten still urinating on nannies;
All the entries and exits within country’s Aso Rock
To keep obeying their adjustable, Fulani clock!
Presently, the unstoppable aspiration of the Purest Hausa teens
Recklessly announcing the same to their napkins:
The Achilles Heel of the Brazilian Football Team,
Easily her ruinous tears commanding,
When she should a loser’s smile beam,
This, thorough Good Breeding demanding.
By the United States beautifully masked,
In her playing of Uncle Tom, enormously tasked;
Her millions of Dollars readily releasing
A loved President, the next election, losing!
To nearly every deprived tribe
Something to fight with the fattest bribe
Or surrender with a loaded gun
Making sure it doesn’t away run!
I’ve tried to The Mentality justify,
Baring a Bible verse that does it fortify…
Or so to me it had seemed
Or, probably, I has deemed…
‘The Elder shall serve The younger’…
And God must’ve, the service years, made longer!
I wish I’d had the courage to ask you
why you treated me so differently to my sibling
You gave her private education at Norland -
yet I did the same course but at the local technical college
You purchased a house for her -
yet I had to save up with my husband to buy our own
You paid for her driving lessons, bought her a car
whilst I had 5 casual jobs and paid for my own
You gave her money on tap
yet I’ve have had to work for everything we own
At the end of the day
you never treated me like I was your daughter.
Since you died …
Mum’s intimated you weren’t my father …
I wish I’d had the courage to ask before you died
NB Neither myself or mum have grieved in the five years since he died - as for my sister I have no idea, as she cut all contact with the family after she inherited part of dad's estate from me and mum.
Norland is a private college in Berkshire - it's where the Royal Nannies come from
awarded poem of the day 9/10/20
awarded trophy 9/29/20
Previously received n/a in courage Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cook
09/09/20
young goats
nannies milk is tasty
fresh cheese
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