Happy Birthday Poem by Dr Ronnie Bai

Happy Birthday! People say
to their little babies digging into a little cake
their delicious little fingers
rolling sticks on their new tin drums
to out-drum the tempestuous man’s world
drumming on their tender eardrums.

Happy Birthday! People say
to their pre-teen kids expecting new toys
from their parents’ over-stretched pockets
to divert their growing interest in the wine rack
tobacco packet, and magazines on the top shelf
privileges exclusive of the adult world.

Happy Birthday! People say
to their grown-up children anticipating a bank cheque
soliciting kisses as a birthday girl or boy
revelling with their mates God knows where
proving themselves a real macho
after an overnight drinking binge the last man standing.

Happy Birthday! People say
to their boomeranged sons and daughters in mid-thirties
refusing to take off
pushing them with a brand new sporty Audi
and a luring house or flat nearby
to brave the new world of parenthood.

Happy Birthday! People say
to the middle-aged men
waking up from their fifty-year-long sleep
with three times more wrinkles
than Rip Van Winkle’s
a birthday card laying on the top
of the bedside cabinet
from the distant daughter
and the jubilant wife encouraging
tonight is the night.

Happy Birthday! People say
to old confused grand parents
whose creeping forgetfulness elevates
them into a blissful paradise of shiny tin drums
rolling the ethereal beat
as they slowly drift
towards an absence of colour.

Happy Birthday! People say
to celebrate life and the joy of living life
a blaring trumpet trailing and trailing
for the losing universal battle all men are fighting
for all men retreating
in front of the grim reaper grinning.

Happy Birthday! People still say —