“The Monkey’s Uncle – A POEM

Once upon a time in a land far away. 

Lived a family whose lives would change in a strange way.

One day in the summer of nineteen sixty-nine,

the mother was hanging laundry on the clothesline.

Out of the forest, her son ran, clutching an old painted vase in hand.

His mother grabbed him to try to help him stand.

Catching his breath, he yelled for all to come and look.

Then out of his ripped pocket, he pulled a worn book.

Rambling that he found both book and vase,

down by the creek in a rusty, metal case.

As they focused their attention on the strange book.

Right before their eyes, the vase violently shook!

The boy said if you make a wish, the genie that lives within

 would grant your wish then he sheepishly grinned.

He said that he had made one, and it came true.

His uncle said You are young, and pulling pranks is all you do.

The boy’s uncle not believing in such childish things.

Scoffed and said this is foolish junk you bring!

The boy said, no, Uncle it’s very true.

If you don’t believe me, the last two wishes are for you.

As his uncle leaned back to fix his pants,

his face turned red, and he fell into a trance.

Then stood straight up, with a face full of welts.

He grabbed the vase and tightened his leather belt.

Rubbing the vase, he said with a deep chuckle.

If this genie is true, I wish I were a monkey’s uncle.

 

The boy began to change into a furry monkey.

 It was so unbearable for he was fat and dumpy.

Running around grunting, such a crazy sight.

 His sister and mother were filled with fright.

Not believing their eyes they thought it was a dream.

 As he grunted and ran, his tail wagged, and eyes beamed.

His uncle in a state of genuine fright.

Tossed the vase in the air and it disappeared from the sight.

The boy’s mother in tears said we must go to that creek.

Whatever it takes for us to find him, it’s my son’s life you see.

Down to the creek, they all ran that summer’s day.

Under a tree, lay both book and vase cleverly tucked away.

The boy’s uncle rubbed the vase and wished his nephew back.

Deep in his heart he was weary and trust in the genie he lacked.

The vase started smoking and made a loud hiss.

A sound so loud it could not be dismissed.

Running out of the woods with a speed no one could detain.

Staggering, confused, panting, and dazed.

Happy to be human again, all curiosity gone.

Never again would he venture far away from home.

Jasmine Parker ©