the weekly

A Happy Return For The Worse

The cake is ablaze with new candles
They’re taking a whole host of snaps
No hint of a crisis, they hand me a slice, I

The bunting is strung from the window
They’re treating me like I’m King Tut
They throw me their parties, and that’s when my heart is

They’re clapping, I’m unwrapping presents
They’re singing that I’m a wild rover
They praise me with ditties – and that’s of course when it is

They’re chanting my name (‘Hello Grandad!’)
They’re giving me plaudits and cheers
No love could be deeper, and that’s when the Reaper

Birthdays are fine celebrations
A remembrance of when you drew breath
And yes what is this, as they give me their kiss?
    It’s death.


Click here to read an Independent article

Click here to buy Bill’s new poetry collection, Ringers

A Happy Return For The Worse

People are allegedly 14% more likely to die on their birthday, claims a Swiss researcher.

13 June 2012


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