by Gloria Ronahan
picture by teacat
Will pain die like autumn leaves —
Turn brown and fall astray?
Its faded tones indulged
By wicked winds then blown
Onto my doorstep’s welcome mat.
Like pain, the leaves want inside
– but I — sweep them all away.
There’s always next year
When I’ll spray paint all the leaves
They’ll never fall
That solves the fucken problem.
Ronahan lives and works in Penticton, BC, near her adult children, and two magnificent lakes. Now well into her third chapter, she is working on going gentle into that dark night, and dragging a bunch of reluctant slow pokes along with her. She will be taking advantage of senior discounts and looks forward to subjecting the inmates at the old folks’ home to her particular brand of humour.
While versatile in many forms, Ronahan, is most herself with humour. She refers to these works as comedic frescoes — that is scenario writing that nudges us to laugh at the banal vicissitudes of life. Her guiding principle is best stated by Edward de Bono, when he wrote, “Humour is the most significant dimension of the brain”. Her motto is: If you can’t laugh at yourself, someone else will, so, beat them to the draw.