To be…
what next, I wonder…
…wondering lonely as a cloud?
Is that allowed?
Who knows me like I do?
Questions?
Indubitably!
G:)
To be…
what next, I wonder…
…wondering lonely as a cloud?
Is that allowed?
Who knows me like I do?
Questions?
Indubitably!
G:)
Posted in Poetry
I once went window-shopping
it was a pane
one day I’m going again .
I don’t need windows,
buying the last one was rash;
but, it had a lovely frame
and a cute little sash.
Posted in Poetry
State well thought out and intensely researched opposing position.
Receive verbal insults and hate.
Consider whether an ’East is / West is’ policy is what we have.
Sigh at the intransigent nature of some people.
He who shouts loudest…
Posted in Poetry
Every journey
begins with a single step.
And then another…
before too long
you are halfway up the stairs;
nearing the centre of the Earth;
twenty-thousand leagues under the sea;
or landing upon the surface of the Moon.
How far away is your library?
Just a few steps?
My salmon-pink car
that used to be red
is now salmon-pink instead;
it’s been six or seven years
and I’ve been close to tears
from the fading image of it there in my head.
It used to be so shiny and smart;
but, now, every year,
I need a new colour chart,
to see which colour thou art…
my salmon-pink car
only goes so far
and much slower than when it was Ferrari red;
now the colour had faded,
performance seems jaded
I should get myself a go-cart instead.
My salmon-pink car
is no jaguar
in British Racing Green,
it’s more a Mini-Moke
a Cockney-rhyming joke,
and it’s becoming more of a has-been.
One day,
it will fade away,
completely.
But, for now.
somehow,
I should claim ownership of it
more discretely.
My salmon-pink car
from which all the colour’s bled…
Posted in Poetry
Ernie the Attorney.
There was a young Cornishman named Ernie
who set off one day on a journey
he travelled by rail,
by bus and by sail
and in Limerick he became an attorney.
The whole story, as it was later told, said that Ernie, a soon-to-be attorney,
went on a journey
off to the Emerald Isle
in a boat;
he took some honey,
plenty of money
all wrapped up well,
as the story does tell,
in the obligatory five-pound note.
He travelled away
for a year and a day
missing Ireland by no more than a country mile;
and when, eventually, he reached dry land,
somewhere other than where he had planned;
he found himself still able to smile.
“I’ve reached my destination!”
he cried with some elation,
“Begorah! Top of the morning! slàinte mhath!
Well, the natives they stared;
raised spears and teeth bared,
prepared to advance and attack;
Ernie, becoming aware
of the danger did swear:
“Bejesus! Begorah! I’d better be gone!”
and he ran back aboard the boat, turning tail he set sail.
Ernie had many other adventures
as he recrossed the Atlantic;
on a journey quite tantric;
he was eaten by a whale;
shipwrecked on an island;
and once, when at a loss,
Ernie shot at an albatross;
but, after a while he did manage to cross the ocean and landed at a place they did call Spanish Point.
“¡Ola!” he cried. “Buenos Dias!”
And the Irish people that greeted his boat were amused at his Spanish
“¡Ole!” they did call, which was all the Spanish that they could manage.
So, from Spanish Point to Donegal
Ernie travelled,
until, in a tick,
he found himself in fair Limerick,
where he became Ernie the Attorney,
eventually becoming a top o’ the morning lawyer
who practiced under the name of Tom Sawyer, writer of wrongs.
Posted in Poetry
I was attacked by a vampire butterfly, today!
Well, I think it was a vampire butterfly – it went straight for my neck;
though I’m not sure if it bit me or not,
as I can’t see any bite marks – they could be quite a small –
but, since then I have been avoiding the Sun,
silver crucifixes,
wooden stakes
and hearing the call
of an open coffin
In a dark crypt
within a Gothic mansion.
All of this is very well,
and I was truly fine with it;
until I found out that vampire butterflies do exist!