North West England gripped
Wallace, Gromit full of quips
on everyone's lips
Netflix chiefs ask Who's Nora...
why was this poor woman flipped?
She had blue eyes, but she was mean
I am speaking of Nora, the pirate queen
She tried to recruit the cousins, including me
I ran from her, for she was always nasty you see
I heard the only recruits that she could find
Was one willing dog and a cat who used to be mine
The cat was mean too, so this made sense to me.
Last I knew they were heading out to sea.
Nora told no one of her plan.
She had been secretly attending college for four years.
She did not expect to see anybody there except her friend Sug.
Sug could not keep a secret. She had told the press.
When Nora walked across the stage she heard “There’s grandma!”
The audience had been told to hold their applause.
Her relatives could not do it; there were tons of them.
The entire audience seemed to cheer for her.
At ninety-eight-years young, Nora felt like a celebrity.
gorgeous pink castle with rainbow unicorn
glittery dazzling flakes of winter beauty
sparkle as they flutter down over and over
shaken by Nora, a delighted princess
she revels that she can hold her kingdom in her hands
smiling as her ballerina dances in rhythm to the floating flakes
snow globe magic enticing an eight-year-old girl
I feel for next-house Nora
Getting poorer and poorer:
A plant facing stem borer
While she seems a goal scorer
Her idle hours rarer
State of things not fairer...
Nora's younger: Victoria
Is doing well in Pretoria
And her cousin Eugenia
Sure to become engineer ;
In South Africa clever
And there could live forever
No causeless xenophobia
When with host shares her beer...
I feel for striving Nora
Refused loan by rich Dora
Who drives the cleanest Bora
And exudes sparkling aura.
Sorry we say to Nora
Sleeping lightly; no snorer.
Prayer in the form of a lullaby washes over the nursery
Quintessential feelings of hope, love and joyful expectation
The baby feels beloved, reposing into his relaxed happy emotions.
We hear it on the baby’s monitor and freeze. Who is singing?
Locking eyes, we jump from the table and run up there.
Slowly open the door. The baby is fast asleep; there is no music.
My husband and I look at our son; he is a live doll, all cuddled up.
His tummy breathing in and out rapidly, his eyelashes remarkable.
What do you think it was? My husband whispers.
I know who it was. It was my grandmother’s song; my song.
The one she sang to me when I was a baby. Nora is here, I tell him.
She must be Jerry’s guardian angel. My husband smiles and winks.
We go back to the kitchen, the song is coming through the monitor.
A song of love, a song of expectation, a song of pure joy and wonder.
We do not go back up, for we know that our baby is in the best hands.
Surrounded by the ethereal arms of an angel, my grandma Nora.
Lumber Jack likes his pancakes with kernels of sweet Iowa corn
Freshly picked out of his Great Grandma Nora’s garden
She spoils him by warming up his maple syrup and melting his butter.
He is a forty-six-year-old great grandson who lives at home
With his mother’s grandmother,
a kind hearted woman whom he carries from room to room
because at ninety-six her legs stopped working.
She does for him, and he does for her.
It is the best relationship he has ever had.
Her name was Nora, she had not had a house since she was in her twenties.
Parents died, her money ran out, her emotional illness kept her in the streets.
She was not just content, she was happy. Her life was fine; she had friends.
She sang, danced, and played her days away. In the evenings she had a fire.
“Here’s our girl!” her friends said. They shared what they had, which was little.
It was more than enough. She did not worry about paying rent or utilities.
She felt sorry for those who worked eight hours a day to pay for empty houses.
She could not imagine a day without friendship, dancing, singing and play.
The Apocalypse is coming, someone said tonight as they stood by the fire.
They laughed.
Wondering why the suits wearing tennis shoes were wearing masks.
Are they all going to do surgery? Jett asked.
There was more laughter.
They did not know about the pandemic.
They were simply loving their lives.
In vacant halls, in her negligee,
A marvelous dream is Nora Grey.
Moonbeams scatter as she goes,
She smells of the rose!
She's in a purple mood,
Enjoying the quietude;
And longing for,
Thinking of,
Missing the past-
It went too fast!
Night plays a summer tune-
The jasmine's in bloom!
The spirit of yesterday
Has come here to stay!
Empty halls echo the night,
Windows admit silver moonlight;
Suddenly, in the chill,
She feels the thrill!
Nora Grey dreams of yesterday,
And wishes that got away.
Midnight stars shine where they are;
Like rays, memories come from afar.
Little Nora and Grandpa Bill
sit on swings in Grandma’s garden.
A hummingbird arrives to sample
the brilliant flowers at this buffet.
Grandpa Bill sees a teaching moment
and asks little Nora with a smile
if hummingbirds have beaks or bills.
Little Nora has a teaching moment,
says, “Grandpa, they have straws."
Donal Mahoney
Getting high off 'Mary Jane'
that pungent potent weed
sticking needles in your veins
and getting higher than you need
'Aunt Nora' wont let you blow your nose
'French fries' will leave you in its throes
Moonshine will make you slur your speech
and sobriety may be too far to reach
'Scooby snacks' is not an overwhelming joy
Your brain it will soon destroy
All of the above will cause you pain and strife
Throw them all out (Mary Jane too?)
and get high with a drug called life!
----
Street Name - Drug
--------------------------
Mary Jane ----------Marijuana
Aunt Nora ----------Cocaine
French Fries - ------Crack
Scooby Snacks----- Ecstasy
ODE TO NORA
Never been encountered,
desire so much desired
On the verge of being so wanted,
attractiveness becomes attraction
Ravished at natures’ skills,
compatibility made so compatible
Acclaimed with the right appeal,
lust turns to love!
She evens the score:
a spoonful of applesauce meant for the mouth
hits the floor.
She's famous for a lack of aplomb,
applesauce -- a time bomb.
She gives you the dropsies,
objects that fly, no reason why.
Scary thoughts that come unbidden,
hers alone. I will not own.
Crossing Nora? Don't try it.
You'll live to decry it.
She's whatever haunts you,
seems to want you, but
send white light.
She fades from sight.
She wouldn't want to bore ya,
but there's something about Nora.
Things physical, not audi
fly away from her body,
Fail to nail the counter,
hit the deck all around her--
A zillion spills to mop up:
coffee grinds, egg shells, & catsup.
"Magnificent Uncoordinated
Movements," an old boyfriend said,
In and out of bed. Still, There
Was Something About Nora.