Personal Poetry
Personal       Poetry

Retirement

"The End Of An Era"

The subject of this poem was a much loved and highly respected manager of an NHS Speech & Language Therapy department and had worked in the same department for over 40 years.

 

The reason for this piece of poetic prose?

A very fine era has drawn to a close.

And to share admiration felt widely and strongly,

For someone whose surname's so often spelled wrongly!

 

How can we condense one outstanding career,

That's touched so many lives over 42 years?

Your temporary posting in Dudley began,

A" Gill of all trades" in three sessions you ran.

 

At Priory Clinic, you learned how they spoke,

And digested the dialect of Netherton folk.

And in Sedgley and  Tipton you soon became part,

Of the lives of the locals who took you to heart.

 

Then one Dr Reynolds in seventy three,

Suggested quite firmly you should go f/t.

In cleft lip and palate your talent was forming,

The bosses in Dudley to your charm were warming,

 

Such is your success, you've done much globe trotting,

Presenting your papers, your stomach's been knotting.

But in it's glass phial, with a small rubber dropper,

The rescue to banish those nerves good and proper!

 

As our manager, Gill, you've fulfilled many roles,

Helping us set and achieve many goals.

Our friend and our mentor, our nurse and our Mum.

I bet that you're glad your retirement has come!

 

Now it's over to Rena, whose been so well taught,

And we're all behind her to lend our support.

So, though we won't see you at Central each day,

We all know that Wombourne's no too far away,

 

And there we may find you... or there we may not,

Gone camping and burying some cooking pot?

Ascending some hill with P.C in your sack,

Manual in hand, and mouse on your back?

 

Developing photos you've taken yourself?

Fitting conservatory with a new shelf?

However you spend it, in work, rest or play,

We wish you enjoyment throughout every day.

 

And from all a big thankyou that's hardly enough,

For all that you've given, our dear Mrs. Stuff!

"Your Last Job's Been Jobbed!"

This retirement poem was written for an NHS office manager with a very big personality.

 

Your last job’s been jobbed, your last jam, unjammed.

Your last tricky caller’s been dealt with, (and damned!).

Your last heavy packages humped here and there,

And last requisition lost in thin air!


Your last file’s been filed and last stamp’s been stuck.

Well, some bloody people have all the damn luck!

But what will we do without our Eileen,

Who mops up our spills and keeps our space clean?

 

It won’t be the same in the office, that’s true.

The air, for example, won’t be quite so blue!

And now that you’re going, who can we entrust,

With all those collections when we bite the dust?!

 

And for all “the girls” we hope you won’t grieve.

If it helps you can take on our annual leave!

And while we’re about it, equipment requests,

For more colour-cards and felt pens and the rest.

 

If we know You Eileen, you’ll soon have Bob trained,

With neatly typed memos, the house chores explained

With a post-it note here, and rolling pin there,

How could he refuse you? He wouldn’t dare!

 

So, now you are leaving, abandoning ship,

And boarding another for your lifetime trip.

Set sail, and be happy and healthy and fit.

All that's left to say now is “tarrarabit!”

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© Susie Verity 2017