Kathleen O'Rourke Poetry

My Generous Julie

It was one of the good days

We cleeked arms under Julie's umbrella,
tottered across the skittery cobbles
to the wee Chip

There we bought some Hunters Vodka
an evil herbal stiffener
our tipple of the time

Then you couldn't drink in the Grosvenor
so in the Ladies we decanted the spirits
into wee IrnBru bottles with a little water

We got two vanilla Mivvies
sidled into the dark back row

Julie lit up licitly; we watched
Woody Allen in Radio Days. One of his earliest
about his youth. Brilliant.
We laughed and laughed.

Going home I burbled about Woody's mother
a marvellous character yada yada
No, said my sister
no you're wrong,
he loved his Aunt Rose best

Kathleen O'Rourke


Sunday 4 Jul 2010

My New Cooker

My new cooker, flawless, pristine,
gleams at me with lustrous sheen -
no scratchy ring, no grungy sheen,
no flinty scar -
a virgin in a grubby scene
or film noir.

Now I'll make artichoke terrine,
spatchcock a la Balantine
jugged hare and Apple Florentine -
all piquant, rich.
And while I toil I'll sip vins fines
or large Glenfiddich.

No. The micro's urgent ping
works best for me, or Slocooking.
Or some strong cheese on toast I fling -
what need of pots?
Or two unbroached eggs I sling
and slug some shots.

Kathleen O'Rourke

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