On Her Deathbed, Aunty Rose, poem by Shawn M. Klimek at Spillwords.com

On Her Deathbed, Aunty Rose

On Her Deathbed, Aunty Rose

written by: Shawn M. Klimek

 

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose,
Surrounded by her grieving kin
Achieved a dignified repose
Despite the tickle in her nose
Resulting from the roses they’d brought in.

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose
Surrounded by her namesake flowers
Pretended to serenely doze,
Suppressing said allergic throes–
A torture that dragged on for what seemed hours.

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose,
Began to wrack her tumored bean
For ways to keep the saintly pose
She hoped would be recalled by those
Expected to describe her final scene.

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose,
Blotchy and beset by itches
Yearned to die and decompose
Then be a ghost to haunt her foes:
Those wicked, flower-foisting SOBs.

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose
Attempting calm by meditation
Was so intense her features froze
Into a mask of juxtapose:
Half martyred-bliss, half grimace-of-frustration.

On her deathbed, Aunty Rose
Gasped her last, then barked a sneeze
The tempest blew off all her clothes
(Except her therapeutic hose,
Which ended bunched around her wrinkled knees).

“On her deathbed, Aunty Rose,”
(Reminisced some who’d attended)
“Feeling confessional, we suppose,
“Had the courage to expose
“The tattooed names of sailors she’d befriended.”

Up in Heaven, Aunty Rose
Mourned her reputation’s taint
But not for long, since Heaven knows
No secrets last. That’s how it goes.
Between us, to those sailors, she’s a saint.

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This humorous poem inspired a silly spinoff. Their last wish was to be buried side by side.

ON HIS DEATHBED, UNCLE MORT

On his deathbed, Uncle Mort,
Desiring to give old Death some sport,
Arranged his pillows into a fort.
This effort,
Like his breathing,
Came up short.

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