Sweet and Sour (Rhyming Slang)

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An hour can be a long time indeed
Or fly by like seconds;
An hour is actually 60 minutes long
Although a ‘happy’ hour can be much longer;
And an ‘unhappy’ hour can last a lifetime
Or end a lifetime.

When is a Bee…?

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Borrowed from nia’s lovely site

When is a bee
Not a bee?
When?
Quando?
When?
‘When it is an ape!’
Said an Italian lady walking by;
But, this is all by the by
And by the way
When a bee thinks
It is not a bee
But ‘is’ actually a bee
Could it bee said to bee
All at sea?
Or not?
Do you see?

A-Z Challenge #StarTrek

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Aboard the ‘good ship’ Enterprise there was a crew that possessed many fine qualities;
Brought together by a mix of trial and error and lucky chances,
Captain Kirk and his ‘band of brothers’ were boldly going on a mission
Deep into outer space, beyond even our wildest guesses,
Extra-Terrestrials were to be met and offered the hand of friendship;
Five years was the extent of this mission and they were keen;
Galaxies flew by and whole brave new worlds opened up to them;
Happily, most encounters were friendly and a trade of knowledge was experienced
Interstellar travel meant that vast distances could be travelled in the blink of an eye;
Journeys that were once deemed impossible were now day trips.
Kirk and his landing parties searched the surfaces of the planets found
Leaving, usually, intact (although the red-shirted crewmen seemed rather unfortunate at times).
Making contact with Alien life forms (mainly bipedal) was far simpler than we would think,
Nearly all of them spoke American English, but with a variety of accents;
Obviously this had to be so for without that it would have called for major subtitles.
Perhaps, it is a little unrealistic; but, it makes for some good drama when the opposition can understand you so well.
Quoted often ‘Beam me up, Scotty!’ was a phrase that was never spoken on Star Trek
Rather than actually travel through space, Nevada was used for most of the planet locations.
Star Trek’s voyage is 50 years old and still attracting new fans as it still boldly goes on and on
Tiberius is Captain James T. Kirk’s middle name and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Unsurprisingly people who like Star Trek are called Trekkies, which is apt.
Vulcan, the birthplace of Spock, is not the best holiday destination as the air is too thin for us Earthlings
Were we to go there we might also become slightly depressed as they don’t seem to have a sense of humour.
X marks the spot on Vulcan where Captain Kirk “died” in his duel-to-the-death with Spock.
You can be assured that Kirk didn’t actually die (as he is only fictional he never really existed)
Zealous aficionados of Star Trek have the ability to do ‘this’ with their fingers, whilst opposers make a different hand-signal.

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Railway Station Poetry 12th September, 2016

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Railway Poetry September 12th, 2016

I’ve got a ticket
For a destination
And I’m sitting at a railway station –
Sounds like a song.

The train, I’m sure, is on it’s way
It’s coming soon to take us all away
Haha!
“A return ticket, please.”
I asked the man
“Where to?” he cried
“Why, back here you fool!”
And then we both cried together
At the sheer stupidity
Of the English language
And then we conversed about the weather.

So, I’m sat here at this railway station;
On such lines that could just cross the nation
And they do;
But, I’m not going nowhere
And one day I’m going to get there
Just see if I do.

Soon I’ll be rolling down that railway track
A thirst class ticket in my pack
And I won’t stop the train
Until it gets there
Wherever there may be
I’ll just spend my time
Just looking out the window
Upon the people of the world
And wishing in my mind
That what I’d left behind
Isn’t needed along the way
And, now, I’ve nothing more to say.

And such words

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Enough, enough, enough!
Too much would just be stuff
Under the bridge
Unto the fridge
Into the great wide open
Here’s hoping
And such words…

As dreams are made on

And nightmares abound
In the dead of the night
When the drawbridge is down
And the enemy can cross at will
And it will.

Polka Dot Tea Pot

In my polka dot tea pot
There is goodness knows what
Maybe some cotton
Or a safety pin blue
An old ticket from a journey to you
Aboard a train to Caer Dyff or maybe to Crewe;
Perhaps a note to cancel the milk
Or a ribbon delicate, thin and of a beautiful silk;
Maybe there is tea
Stewing and old
And if that’s the case
It’s probably cold.

I shall take a look.

In the polka dot tea pot
There is not one single thing
From the list up above…
There are all of them there
All mixed up in a brew of my love.

Shall I?

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Shall I compare thee to a Brussel sprout?
Or maybe I can aliken thee to an oafish lout?
Or a clumsy clout?
A foolish pout?
Or, without a doubt,
I am sure that I could comparison thee
To a boxer’s bout, a waster’s nowt, a strident shout
‘and’ a tile-maker’s grout.
But…
And here is the real question…
Should I?