Reincarnation

[ray miller]

Some days I imagine it might really happen:
orifices oozing with ectoplasm,
Dorises with messages that we can’t fathom,
transmigration since the days of Adam.
It must have been the fashion a long time ago
when Buddhists could make it to the sixth Bardo
or lose their selves in Limbo. You don’t think so?
It’s never on the news, YouTube or Skype,
it’s not the kind of repeats you see on both sides
but something caught in the corner of your eye.
Like shortly after my sister-in-law died
my wife sat outside a cafeteria in Melbourne, Victoria,
where they’d fitted netting to prevent birds pecking
at food. Yet one bird, reputed to be shy,
had gained entrance and fed at a table nearby.
Then back home when she took our dog and children
to a play park in West Malvern, England,
the birds went mad, chattering, swooping,
flying off at crazy angles and then regrouping,
spooking the dog who found its way inside the park,
climbed the steps of the slide, slid down and barked.
Her sister loved birds. My wife loves birds.
Quod erat demonstrandum – the truth is revealed in tandem.

Nobody would think of me as spiritual,
it’s the kind of thing I used to ridicule;
but assuming that I drop dead first
I’m planning to come back as a bird.
A bird who’ll be useful to my wife,
convince her of the afterlife
and express my love and gratitude,
not just scare dogs and steal food.
A peacock, perhaps, but all those eyes
are likely to make her paranoid;
a songbird to soothe her when she’s restless,
a chicken to lay her eggs for breakfast;
mynah to call her mind to attention
when she’s perched on the brink of dementia.
Rooks or ravens, long-eared bats; a cock –
she’s probably had enough of that.
Penguins have always made her laugh
and when she’s bored I could be a lark;
starlings, sparrows, robins, pigeons;
I’m not used to making decisions,
so I left the final word to the missus
and asked her what bird I reminded her of,
what to come back as when I’ve shuffled off?
Straight from the neck she said Albatross.

[IainMichaelBryan]

Terrific humour, Ray, I really enjoy this, it rattles along lovely.

Particular fondness for the introductory half of stanza 1. Any chance of a small adjustment to

'my wife sat outside a cafeteria in Melbourne, Victoria, ' which I feel breaks the rhythm a bit awkwardly?

Iain

[Ros]

Enjoyed. I wonder if this section

It must have been the fashion a long time ago
when Buddhists could make it to the sixth Bardo
or lose their selves in Limbo. You don’t think so?
It’s never on the news, YouTube or Skype,
it’s not the kind of repeats you see on both sides

is necessary? It feels a little padded to me.

Only you could rhyme orifices with Dorises.

Ros

[ray miller]

Thanks, Iain, Kamy, Ros.
Iain, you're right about that line. I thought maybe

Like shortly after my sister-in-law died
my wife sat outside a cafe in Melbourne, Oz,
where they’d fitted netting to prevent birds
pecking at food.

Does Australia get abbreviated to Oz?

Ros. That section seems a necessary bridge to me, most of it anyway.

Only you could rhyme orifices with Dorises. I like to think so. Be even better if I used orifice in the singular but more than one orifice seems necessary. But we've all heard that excuse before. Anyway,if there was a Rhyme of the Year Award - and there should be - I'd enter it with Dorises/orifice. And exotic / West Bromwich.

[Ros]

I guess exotic/West Bromwich is even better, just because of the unlikeliness of the concept...

Ros

[ray miller]

But did you know that West Bromwich Albion's football ground is the highest in England? Not so mundane after all, eh?

[Ros]

But did you know that West Bromwich Albion's football ground is the highest in England? Not so mundane after all, eh?

I didn't. Def. unmundane.

Ros