I have to write them,
Haikus, that is, and yet, no,
I shall not do that!
But, who has power,
who can honestly say, no,
when a Haiku calls?
I know I cannot,
I have to write the three lines,
because, I have to.
Not that I am weak,
but, every week day is
a Haiku day, no?
Go on, try it out;
seventeen syllables, then…
create your Haiku –
or add a couple of lines
and it becomes a Tanka.
Or make it funny,
and, by definition, you,
have a Senryu.
‘Thank you for the food we eat’
said a banner read in Merrymeet;
‘Thank you for the cheese and chives’
said a poster posted in St. Ives;
‘Thank you for the bread and sup’
said a post-it note that I picked up.
‘Thanks for nothing’ I replied,
with hunger pangs,
and then I died.
The Poetry Knight
rode in upon his steed,
then he was gone;
the people sighed,
they had a need,
for poems,
yes, a need indeed.
The Poetry Knight
he hadn’t stopped,
not one small verse
had he dropped
into the laps
of the people;
perhaps he had,
forgotten to stop,
“Begorra! Egad!”
the people shouted,
the people cried,
one of the people was very old
and died (of natural causes –
it’s sad to say,
that things like that
happen every day).
The Poetry Knight
was, by now, far away,
and little did he have to say;
upon the subject,
he was as mute
as the mutest swan,
who was one day here,
the next day
gone.
Zorba, a ficticious Greek character, was visiting his local hostelry one evening, with the dubious intention of the imbibing of their drinks, and the bending of some Greek comestibles at their recently organised ‘Night of the Greek’ – or ‘Greek Night’.
Zorba was very impressed by the authenticity of the Gyros and the frizziness of the fries, but, afterwards, when he asked for ‘Podyn!’ he was answered by some blank expressions.
“Podyn?” they asked. “We have Chocolate Cake, Cherry and Chocolate Cake, Chocolate Fudge Cale, Cherry and Chocolate Fudge Cake, or Balaclavas.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘Baklavas’ “ queried Zorba.
“We wish!” they replied. “Bit of a mix-up with the order. Although…”
“Yes…?”
“With a scoop of ice-cream…”
“Worth a try?”
“No, not really, the fluff ruins the ice-cream.”
Zorba decided to give that ‘Podyn’ a miss, opting for the Chocolate Fudge Cake.
All in all he gave the evening a 8.5 out of 10.
Stir it up a bit,
see what seasoning it needs,
add some of this,
and a pinch of that,
bring it to the simmer,
not the boil,
watch (and listen) carefully.
When you guess
that it might be ready…
dish it up,
and serve with crusty bread rolls,
and short straws.
Await the compliments
that will inevitably
fail
to come your way.
Check recipe.
Mark out of 10.
2.4?
Replace recipe in the safe,
and throw away the key.
In the future,
stick to Limericks.
She went to sea
to see the sea,
and whilst she was there
she saw me;
she turned around
and headed home
no more to sail,
no more to roam.
I fell out of the Poet Tree,
then the Poet Tree fell out of me.
Granville, sat with his anvil,
at the back of the orchestra pit,
waiting for his moment,
the time when his chime would fit.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Anvil, #Granville, #musician, #Orchestra, #poetry. #poem, #Triangle
‘Bear With’
Bear with…
bear with…
bear with…
bear with…
bear with a sore head
was walking through the woods
one day,
when he (or she, or other)
decided that a nap
would be the thing
to take away the pain
from the bear’s brain.
The bear with…
the bear with…
bear with…
excuse me, it’s buffering…
the bear with…
a sore head
went into a deep sleep
and dreamt of berries,
and beers–
sorry, and bears,
other bears,
that he
(or she, or other)
had known.
When the bear with…
bear with…
bear… bear…
bear… withasoreheadwoke–
oops!
When. The. Bear. Awoke. It.
Told. A. Joke.
But, there was no one there
to laugh,
except a passing giraffe
that bore a passing resemblance to…
a wild (or just slightly livid) boar.
The giraffe did not laugh at the joke
until much later,
when the ‘G’ had worked out
the pun in the punch line.
Such is the way of comedy.
Do I need a Bucket Hat?
Would wearing one
be something
that I should add to my Bucket List?
If you insist, Hive Mind,
then it could be a thing
for me to buy.
To wear?
I swear
that I
may watch all seasons fall by
before I
do share
such headwear
with a head
where my treasured memories are stored.
But, should I get one?
That question, I know,
shall not go away,
nor ever care to be ignored.
