The land of milk and honey has become the land of silk and money;
And ‘Happy Ever After’
Daily seems much dafter;
“What’s the world coming to?”
Asked a rhetorical Mrs Jones
Who shivered in the winter
As the chill did freeze her bones;
For eighty years she’d lived
And “Never seen times like them!”
Soon she’ll be much warmer
In the flames of the local crem.
As if, perhaps,
She knew her fate.
Note how I have captured the sky’s essential blueness.
But, with little understanding
I am looking at the sky?
But, I am
Being who I am
I have to write words
To capture the moment
And, as birds suddenly appear
I think that wearing the worm costume today
Have been a big mistake.
As it is around the time of Burn’s Night, and he no longer writes any new poetry, I wrote this new poem for him.
I apologise for my variation on a Scottish accent (this applies to the heard word as well as the written).
This is my new Burn’s poem which I titled:
I Boast, The Noo
I have a big wellie!
In fact… I have two…
One for thae left foot
And one for thae right foot
For splashing aboot in thae puddles;
I have two wellies… don’t you?
NB it worked well as a performance poem last night, possibly it doesn’t work quite so well if you can’t hear it. G:)
And still I wait
For what seems like an age
And then decide that I
Should continue as if it had all been a part of my act to do so
But, secretly, I die upon the stage
As actor missing scripted page
And skipping lines does confuse the cast
This his first role
May be his last.
I would just like to mention
That there was a hot peppercorn
In the cous-cous today;
It added a new dimension
To my snack;
There was certainly no lack
Of experience threshold –
Shall we say
I’m told that this sort of thing
Can happen on occasion…
Well, it does…
Out of breath
I take a rest
And bide a while
For, to bide is best;
But, what is ‘to bide?’
And set myself upon another task
I hit G**gle and insert ‘to bide’
Hold on to your hats
It’s going to be some kinda ride!
No, that was silly
I was just being a fool
For ‘To bide’ is to stay somewhere
For a while – perhaps, where it’s cool;
And if you are happy to abide along with me
In your humble abode
Then this is another word that we can upload.
I must just say, here, today,
That I just can’t abide all these new words that now occur
In my arena, like Ben Hur,
Racing around the language world
To arrive breathlessly (like me)
At my doorstep for tea
Like thirteen dwarves
In search of a burglar named me.