When poetry fails
to ignite up my senses
will a haiku do?
Bob was hobnobbing;
offering Hob-Nobs
to other bobs;
he also liked bob-a-job week.
It’s 4:30 in the afternoon,
and, soon, it will be 4:31;
I only have less than a minute to write this…
but, sadly, it couldn’t be done.
It’s 4:32 in the afternoon…
“Gravity’s working!”
I tried it again, today –
still working;
and the Earth still feels round,
though how I can tell it is
is liable to confound
the literal mind.
I find that,
things do and don’t change
from day
to day,
although I have to say –
or write –
that it may not have always been this way.
Gravity’s working,
and my feet are firmly upon the ground,
whilst my mind is drifting away.
Timothy Winters comes to school
With eyes as wide as a football-pool,
Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:
A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.
His belly is white, his neck is dark,
And his hair is an exclamation-mark.
His clothes are enough to scare a crow
And through his britches the blue winds blow.
When teacher talks he won’t hear a word
And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird,
He licks the pattern off his plate
And he’s not even heard of the Welfare State.
Timothy Winters has bloody feet
And he lives in a house on Suez Street,
He sleeps in a sack on the kithen floor
And they say there aren’t boys like him anymore.
Old Man Winters likes his beer
And his missus ran off with a bombardier,
Grandma sits in the grate with a gin
And Timothy’s dosed with an aspirin.
The welfare Worker lies awake
But the law’s as tricky as a ten-foot snake,
So Timothy Winters drinks his cup
And slowly goes on growing up.
At Morning Prayers the Master helves
for children less fortunate than ourselves,
And the loudest response in the room is when
Timothy Winters roars “Amen!”
So come one angel, come on ten
Timothy Winters says “Amen
Amen amen amen amen.”
Timothy Winters, Lord. Amen
Charles Causley
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #CharlesCausley, #Launceston, #poetry. #poem, #TimothyWinters
A Badriomaku and two Haiku
(With a syllable count of 2-3-5-1-5-4-5, the Hungarian Badriomaku is interesting in that it gives you a structure that doesn’t fit any preconceived ideas).
“Today,
It is said,
is a special day.”
“What?”
“Today is Wenn’s Day;
when all is free,
and debts are cancelled.”
“Badriomaku?
That’s not a poetry form –
You just made that up!”
“Oh, yes, so I did!
What kind of a fool am I
to do such a thing?”
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus’d upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fiber from the Brain does tear.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer song
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.
Every Night and every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to sweet delight,
Some are Born to Endless Night.
 | The Febrile Imaginin… on “What do you mean by ‘just’ a… |
 | InfiniteZip on “What do you mean by ‘just’ a… |
| The Febrile Imaginin… on Bob |
 | Riverside Peace on Bob |
| The Febrile Imaginin… on “Gravity’s working!” |
