Meet the maker

Grandma died at a quarter to three.
Right before her cake and tea.
She’d gone to church and prayed like the rest.
Hoped for peace, and always tried her best.
To be like Jesus and love each other.
She even prayed harder for her sick older brother.
Yet it was she God took, that lazy Sunday.
At number 40, in her living room doorway.
Collapsed on the floor, her hands to her chest.
Stricken in pain, nearing the final rest.
For it seemed God had for her a different plan.
Then tea and cake, and the weatherman.
And what is more, it pains me to say.
That Grandma was not even in her twilight days.
For poor Grand Ma Ma was only 70.
And had gone the bathroom to spend a penny.
Yet down she was struck, tripping over her pug.
Smashed her head on the door like a hand to a bug.
It was a silly demise and lacked any dignity.
As she’d glared at the dog before meeting her destiny.
No moments of poise or thoughts of her brother.
Her last action on earth was to exclaim ‘’Mother fucker!’’

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22 thoughts on “Meet the maker

  1. The picture…I’m sitting out side and the glare on the screen, though not real bad was bad enough to make me stare at it trying to figure it out for awhile. But the poem…LMAO. It’s wonderful to laugh early in the morning! And that would be me, cursing at the dog as I fell, lol. This is kind of a new side of you, for me. Don’t think I’d seen it before, but very cool.

    Like

    • Thank you, yes this was my fun departure from the ’emotional’. I usually fall back on fun rhyming when it’s light hearted. I was channelling Mr Dahl with this one.Glad you enjoyed.

      Liked by 1 person

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