The Party Poem

So this is from a series of wedding poems I put together. Well, this isn’t quite a wedding poem but I’m sure there was a post-wedding celebration of some sort. Anyway, these poems usually involve something in the USA, and my wife and I were going to California to visit family. There were a whole series of things that had happened, some self explanatory, some inside jokes. Ask, and I shall indulge you with the story.

 

Wedding season’s about to kick in,

Waiting on how many weddings it brings,

 

But before you grunt & before you groan,

Hold on a second, we’re throwing our own.

This isn’t Sadiya’s third wedding fete,

Though if she had her way, it’s what she’d get.

 

It does have a thousand other reasons,

Starting with; Rabea’s home for the season!

She’s with a law firm now, REAL big batters,

Names withheld, LEGAL MATTERS.

 

And a new addition from the past few days,

Ibn Ish & Amina, Baby E-bay.

So congratulate them on the newborn son,

He has a feedback score of ninety-one.

 

Yet another addition to the family clan,

Shahid’s become a married man,

Pester yourselves for an introduction

Then watch her dance in the “Shaikh Induction.”

 

(One-step, Two-Step, Bhangra beat,

Lightbulbs whatever! It’ll be a treat.)

 

And Tariq’s quit Cisco, celebration enough,

Then he joined them back, doing different stuff.

No matter, never knew what he did before,

It’s probably the same thing, on a different floor.

 

Mom passed her Series 7 with a ninety-three

Then set up a NICE little earner, spelt N-Y-S-E.

Now she’s conjured up some magic, maybe more than you can stomach,

So loosen your beltloop a notch or two, and throw it down your gullet.

 

Sayyida Musrifa sowfa tarji3 ila bilaadihaa,

Toojad lughat-al-Arabiya katheeratan 3ala lisaanihaa.

(Miss Spendthrift will be returning to her community & country,

The Arabic Language present, upon her tongue aplenty.)

 

I apologise for the longwidedness, I’m the typical bumbling Brit,

And it’s nothing I can help, it is the national characteristic.

(Though I should also add and not in jest,

It’s a skill that Mr Bush enterprises, at its very best!)

 

Sweet as it all can sound, let me tell you all the date,

Surely if we could have, we would have made it a little late.

Alas, I’m sad to say, there is a downer on this upper,

This little bash we’re having, starts at the time you’d have a cuppa’.

 

That’s teatime for you and me,

So anytime from half-past-three!

And we shut up shop at around about ten,

So bring yourselves round anytime before then.

 

And that’s not even the worst of it,

I have to spare you a moment to let it hit,

Take a deep breath while I reveal the news you seek,

You see.. the party we’re having is-in midweek!

 

It’s all the time that we can manage,

So if you don’t come there will be carnage.

Embolden yourself and tell your senior,

And if you can’t do that, then tell the cleaner.

 

Whoever you tell, make sure you’re there,

Or Tariq’ll be round to bend your ear.

For want not to leave you on a sour note,

Here’s a little something to make you dote,

 

If ALL the above is not enough for you..

Well, to top it off, MOGZ is coming toooo!!!

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