Poetry Bus stopping at Lucan

Only three miles down the road from me but no discounts - still got to produce a poem. This time, Niamh's instructions were basically to go to your email inbox and see what inspires you (okay, they were more specific, but being a person of limited intelligence, I opted for the scaled-down version.) To see how some real poets tackled the task, follow the links here

A call for help from Yakoumi

Such a tale of distress
In my Outlook Express!
Yakoumi is close to hysteria.
Her husband (a colonel)
Showed life’s not eternal
When he crashed in a plane in Nigeria.

Yes, her Winston has gone
But as I read on
The source of more woe was apparent.
For she’d wealth beyond dreams
Of which a fraction (it seems)
Could ever be won from Chris Tarrant.

Eighty million in stocks
And in shares, in a box
In the vault of the Bank of America.
A bright silver lining
To soften her pining
Though the circumstance made her hystericker.

(‘Twould have been stony-hearted
To ask how the departed
Had a fortune the envy of many
I was much more conciliatory,
Accepting the military
In Nigeria earns a good penny)

But Yakoumi explained
In words tearful and stained,
This widow, still suffering bereavement,
Couldn’t access this tin box
(She wept in my inbox)
And to do so would be an achievement.

Now the reason she’s troublin’
This “kind man” from Dublin –
She had heard I was most philanthropic.
It’s a friend that she needs
To help access the deeds
And my name had come up on this topic.

To retrieve this huge wealth,
I must move with great stealth
And send on my PIN to Yakoumi.
To repay my assent,
A most tasty per cent
Of her fortune will be transferred to me.

So I’ve sent on my PIN
With a wink and a grin
And my signature (scanned) in black biro.
For I remember the hassle
When I lived in Newcastle
And attempted to cash in my Giro.

I sure hope God will bless
This poor girl in distress
And she’ll see it all through with great honour.
Thank God she chose me
To escape poverty
And not someone who might try and con her.