by C.D. Reimer
Grandma got run over
on Christmas Eve, walking home
with a beer bottle
in a brown paper bag. A
quick swill each block to stay warm.
The bright red car drove
too fast around the corner,
unable to stop
for the little old lady
crossing the street in the dark.
The beer bottle broke,
shattering glass and spilling
beer inside the bag.
The bright red car drove
on, not bothering to stop.
The jolly white-bearded
man in the bright red suit thought
speed bump, an odd place for one.
Grandma was found dead
on Christmas Day, reaching for
her departed booze.
She expired high and dry, with
a reindeer track on her back.
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My mother hated the popular Christmas song, "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer," because she thought everyone in the family thought she was grandma in the song. She didn't have blue-hair, but she did love her beer. At the memorial service for my mother in 2004 (she died from breast cancer), her sister placed a quart-bottle of beer next to her picture on the memorial table.
This tanka/haiku poem is my interpretation of the holiday song and my mother.
dude...
@Sally, Can you elaborate on that "dude..." comment? :)
Not without full body armor and protective head gear.
:)
I kinda like this poem for its comedic bent and it has a flavor of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' in the mix, too. I understand the fact that a relative placed a beer bottle on the memorial table, irreverent innuendo is a powerful commentary. Blatant humor can be a healing salve. Good writing.