Poetry

[Chulla 4,946]

Columbian Contrasts

 

The Yanks they speak a language queer,

Of English true, it's somewhere near.

Bide with me and I'll explain,

Lest should it drive y'all insane.

 

Here and there words go awry,

It's gotten so we wonder why.

In sums they do the math, yes,

Math! I ask yer, no plural s.

 

Babies pushed along in strollers,

Hollywood stars have shiny molars.

Divorce is rife, an institution,

Is this legal prostitution?

 

Be warned they drive wrong side of road,

In grid-plan cities, tires take the load.

And where a Ped Xing yonder beckons,

It counts down to green and go in seconds.

 

Roads have a median, not reservation,

Injuns live there, in isolation.

Boiling hot days, freezing cold too,

Tornados, droughts and skies so blue.

 

Airplanes, sidewalks, have a nice day,

There's dozens more, include OK,

Condos, limos, movies and gay,

All Yankspeak that has come our way.

 

For Arkansas say Ark-en-saw,

But Kansas is not Kan-saw.

There's Washington twice, DC and state,

And reversed day/month in their date.

 

Less said the better about their TV,

Such abdominal tripe you never did see.

Adverts interspersed with programs, aye,

Junk food predominant, I do not lie.

 

The gallon and ton are less in size,

And for you dear friend a word to the wise.

Whatever you do don't ask for a rubber,

Aint what you think, I kid you not brother.

 

For left say loo in army ranks,

Boots are trunks and trousers pants.

Careful if you want a fag, dear folk,

Whole new meaning, I do not joke.

 

Batters in baseball slog sans finesse,

Footballers covered in armour-plate dress.

But tough are the players, with jutting jaw,

Games go forever, coz no team can draw.

 

Their banknotes have backs of green,

One-dollar coin, two-dollar bill rarely seen.

The one-cent coin when e'er you roam,

Will fill your pocket by the time you're home.

 

You might think I'm a cheeky old git,

Well, I suppose I am a bit.

The country's great, its people too,

Been there, met them, and so should you.

[Tompa 285]

A little bird, with plumage brown,

Beside my window flutters down,

A moment chirps its little strain,

Ten taps upon my window–pane,

And chirps again, and hops along,

To call my notice to its song;

But I work on, nor heed its lay,

Till, in neglect, it flies away.

So birds of peace and hope and love

Come fluttering earthward from above,

To settle on life’s window–sills,

And ease our load of earthly ills;

But we, in traffic’s rush and din

Too deep engaged to let them in,

With deadened heart and sense plod on,

Nor know our loss till they are gone.

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

[Chulla 4,946]

A word to the wise, Tompa. Appreciators of poetry are very thin on the ground in this forum.

[FLY2 10,108]

I love love poetry. I'll have to get my brain going and try and do some.

[tomlinson 879]

For those who have the time to rhyme

There's someone who will read.

Me for one, so get it done,

More poetry we need.

[Trevor S 2,003]

When I woke up this morning

the dawn was soft and still

A little robin came and sat

upon my window sill

He tipped his head and looked at me

his eyes so bright and clear

He chirped a little melody

My morning thoughts to cheer

His song he sang so sweetly

Without a moments lull

I gently closed the window

and crushed his little skull.

[TheTramp 139]

A Peruvian shepherd named Alturo said this much of Love I do know a woman is fine a sheep is divine but a Llama is Numero Uno

[DaveN 1,118]

Here’s one I wrote several years ago

Lots of enjoyment, many people get
By surfing on the internet
Making new friends they may never see
At a click of a mouse or touch of a key
Once connected they will find
Information of every kind
No matter what the subject be
It will be there – totally free
So come on join the internet boom
Surf the net or join a chat room
Make the world a smaller place
Don’t lose out in the internet race

[Chulla 4,946]

Re-reading the poems I notice that some of the 'Likes' names are preceded with an ellipsis instead of a name. Anyone know why this is so?

[benjamin1945 16,139]

for an or a 'ellipsis'....see a.charlesworth.

[Robbie 39]

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pale of water

Jill came down with half a crown

But not for fetching water

[katyjay 5,090]

Some time ago, my mother in law used to send me bits and pieces out of the Daily Mail, she thought I'd like. Sometimes there was a poem from a reader that I'd cut and save. Here's one.

FOR DAD, WITH LOVE

You ask a question every day

A hundred times or more,

You'll never rest until you've checked

Each window, lock and door.

With trembling, anxious frown you ask:

"When am I going home?"

And new-found strength will drive you now

To wander, search and roam.

You ask for people long gone now

And say they've been to call,

Your children, long-since fled the nest

You ask: "Where are they all?"

You call the register at dawn

And talk of children's tricks,

And pack your back to go to school

Although you're 86!

There's sadness in your misted eyes

And fear behind your smile,

Your moods are angry, hurt, confused

And sometimes infantile.

You live in twilight, lost, alone

I wish I understood,

And all those things you think you've lost -

I'd find them if I could.

Yet clear as daylight you recall

The horrors of the war,

Your childhood home in cobbled street

With roses round the door.

Then sometimes, when the shadows lift

And sunshine clears your view,

You laugh and take my hand again

And say "Oh...I know you!"

That's when I know what lies beneath

This sickness cruel and sad,

A man with laughter in his soul

My funny, dear old dad.

By Julia Jones

[Michael Booth 7,364]

Such a lovely and meaningful poem, katyjay.

[Trevor S 2,003]

katyjay...re #105....

Those who have had a relative suffering from the cruel ravages of Alzheimers Disease or dementia as it is more commonly known will immediately relate to your poem.

I recently lost a very close, dearly loved relative who was suffering from AD and in some ways, it was a blessing in disguise.

[katyjay 5,090]

Here's another offering from the Daily Mail, a bit long, but I think it's lovely.

YOU TELL ME YOU SEE FAIRIES

You tell me you see fairies, watch them whirl and twirl and fly.

You say I do not see them 'cos they're very, very shy.

And very, very magical, and very, very wise.

And only ever show themselves, to wide and wondering eyes.

If I sit still beside you, when then, I may just catch

Their game of Tag or Hide and Seek, down by the cabbage patch.

All are clad in spider silk, newly spun at dawn.

One has just washed out her wings, and looks a bit forlorn.

Their laughter rings like bluebells, their smiles are sunbeam bright.

They play and play the whole day long, and never, ever, fight.

By night they gather moonbeams, all shiny new and clean

To weave a silver coronet, a gift for Mab, their queen.

They dip it in a rainbow, so it shines with every hue,

And spangle it with diamonds, gleaned from the morning dew.

And elves are mounted on their steeds, field mousies, sleek and brown,

Riding forth to gather in, bags of thistledown,

To stuff the tiny pillows, and the duvets, soft and deep.

To keep the fairies cosy, when they snuggle down to sleep.

You tell me you see fairies, where I see leaf and stalk.

I hear the wind a whistling, but you hear fairy talk.

There has to be a reason, and the reason has to be

That I'm a grown-up mummy, and you are only three.

And 'ere you leave your childhood, as, little one, you must,

I hope that they will sprinkle you, with silver fairy dust.

Then with years flown, and you all grown

perhaps, yourself, a wife,

You will always see the magic, in the cabbage patch of life.

By Tricia Sturgeon

[tomlinson 879]

Today I found a second hand copy of, 'The Deserted Village' by Oliver Goldsmith dated 1885 and very well illustrated with etchings. Interesting to note he mourns the loss of a village way of life for those days and, as we have seen on this site, we still mourn for the past . Every generation does it.

[MargieH 7,599]

Katyjay... I just love the poem you posted. I got quite emotional as it struck a chord with me

[MargieH 7,599]

One of my favourites is by Gerard Manley Hopkins called Spring and Fall to a young child

To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leaves, like the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah! as the heart grows older

It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;

And yet you will weep know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:

Sorrow’s springs are the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It is the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.

[TheTramp 139]

Brenda and Bewitchment

Under a Lilac sky

I am obvious in my stance

Brenda and bewitchment bring me once more

To kick my heels by the Talbot's door

Another Thursday night in town

To be elated or let down

But still I play to the bitter end

My lover's game. Oh mother, patience send

They smile, my friends. Say "fool! Then husband girls who have no blood

Or style, make love to rule. They'd all have Brenda. If they could

Under a magenta sky

I begin to seeth in silence

Somewhere in a sodium suburb estate

She paints her face and makes me wait

In a pale stone square on a hardwood seat

Circled by an endless Cityliner fleet

In one of which should be

By now, my Love, drawing near to me

Is she so cool she will not invest her fare to prove

To me, poor fool, that I am blest. With care? With love?

Under a crimson sky

I start at the sight of Brenda

The waspish waist that awakes the rut

A gorgeous mouth and new blonde bubble cut

But why does she leave the bus from Silverdale?

When she lives, I know, in Highbury Vale

Who cares? A single smile of sweet conceit

And my dark mood is marked - Delete

And under a violet sky

I am whirled away

[Chulla 4,946]

While many crave for fortune, with greed that runs through veins,

Others sing a different tune, and trail life's other lanes.

Experience, it should tell us, that glory can't be bought,

That we're as rich as Croesus, Earth's wonders cost us naught.

 

Nature gives us wonderment, from sunrise to sunset,

I for one am quite content, to affirm to it my debt.

Forest leaf and desert sand, skies so blue, so cloudy,

Quietly rests the open land, the jungle's life, so rowdy.

 

Life, it is abundant here, on land, in sea, in air,

It occupies a seasoned year, in climates dull and fair.

Look above when nights are clear, to nature's firmament,

See the stars in millions steer, across the sky they're sent.

 

And what of man, his contribute, the betterment of life,

The arts, the ken, above all else, the bond of man and wife.

Appreciate your time on earth, learn, love and roam,

Just one chance you'll get from birth, till Time do call you home.

[Chulla 4,946]

The Untied Knot

 

Said he to she, 'Please marry me',

Said she to he, 'Just wait and see',

Said he to she, 'Don't make me wait',

Said she to he, Just hang on, mate',

Said he to she, 'Just name the day',

Said she to he, 'It's when I say.

 

Said me to he, 'Pour on the charm',

Said he to me, 'I'll chance my arm',

Said me to he, Mind how you go',

Said he to me, 'Watch me, I'll glow',

Said me to he, 'I'm not so sure',

Said he to me, 'I will endure'.

 

Said me to thee, 'I like this not',

Said thee to me, The man's a clot',

Said me to thee, 'I won't say that',

Said thee to me, 'OK, a prat',

Said me to thee, 'He's just so shy',

Said thee to me, 'Then ask his why'.

 

Said me to he, 'Come on, try hard',

Said he to me, 'I've played my card',

Said me to he, 'What did she say?',

Said he to me, 'Just go away',

Said me to he, 'All does seem lost',

Said he to me, 'At no small cost'.

 

Said she to me, 'I am in doubt',

Said me to she, 'Oh, what about?',

Said she to me, 'He's - well I don't know',

Said me to she, 'Give it a go',

Said she to me, 'I can't agree',

Said me to she, 'Then Que Sera, Sera'.

[MargieH 7,599]

Purple is one of my favourite colours !

Warning Jenny Joseph (1932 - )

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes to keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

[Bubblewrap 3,815]

Here we go Margie

[MargieH 7,599]

That looks about right for me in the middle...

[Chulla 4,946]

Limerick time.

 

There was a young man from Wellow,

Who couldn't tell his arse from his elbow,

Try as he might,

Through darkness and light,

He never did manage to say so.

 

There was a young man from Clifton,

Who always received a gift on,

His birthday in June,

And not before noon,

Was there ever a hint that he'd got one.

 

There was an old man from Radford,

Who paced himself forward and backward,

Not knowing which way,

Was to Lady Bay,

He set off instead to find Sherwood.

 

A Nottstalgian from Mapperley Park,

Went overseas, hear me out, hark,

Down sunny south with her man,

In the French town of Cannes,

She longed for Notts clubs in the dark.