The Old Man and the TV

A warm fire in the afternoon.

An old man and his TV.

Armchair, cushions, newspaper,

And a blanket on the knee.

Loosen the belt, turn the hearing aid off,

The volume up and flick.

A documentary about Hitler and the Holy Grail,

The pyramids and Watson and Crick.

Drifting in and out of slumber,

An intermittent snore,

Dozing eyes behind drooping lids,

Catch the odd image of a war.

Or ancient parchments — hieroglyphics —

A camera panning far,

Computer graphics, simulations,

A safari-suited bore.

His voice so sure and steady,

(Emotion? No, not too much!)

Soothing, calming authority,

To help digest the lunch.

The old man wakes just as evening falls.

(The wife is due in soon.)

He shakes off sleep, stokes the fire,

And switches to the news.

The front door sounds.

(The wife is in!)

Bags plonked in the hall.

“Anything decent on my dear?”

“What? Not a bloody thing at all!”

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About ucronin

Microbiologist, brewer, writer, fan of James Joyce, guitar player and gardener, U. Cronin was born in the county town of Ennis, Co. Clare. He's spent much of his adult years moving country — between Spain and Ireland — and at present he is to be found back in his native town. Author of five novels and working on a sixth, U. is back in the lab and engaging his passion for looking for bugs using very bright lasers. Let's hope it turns out well!
This entry was posted in Humour, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Old Man and the TV

  1. Great prose! Oddly enough, my new year’s resolution was to watch less TV. Ha!

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