‘’Never turn your back on Middle Earth’
he almost sang;
but I altered it a tad,
as I do,
because that is what I do.
I tweak, and adjust, just a little,
to make a new and,
possibly, improved version.
Who really knows?
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #poetry. #poem, song, #Sparks, #NeverTurnYourBackOnMotherEarth, #MaelBrothers, #MiddleEarth
Georgie Porgie went to an orgy,
and blushed the whole way home;
because Georgius Porgius was an Italian
that had never before been to Rome.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #GeorgiePorgie, #Italy, #Latin, #NurseryRhyme, #Orgy, #poetry. #poem, #Rome, song
Talk to me, talk to me slowly
when you need my thoughts;
remind you me, once on a time
please prompt old me, but why?
How many tractors
could you attract,
If you had a large magnet
and a bucketful of tact?
.
One tractor,
two tractors,
three tractors,
four?
Do you think that you could
attract any more?
It’s that time again
time to rhyme again
na na hey hey hey
goodbye.
.
.
NB if you know the song, it helps to get the rhythm – Bananarama – Na na hey hey.
I had to rescue the bee
from the bowl of water that he
had landed in for a drink;
at least he knew how to float –
or had forgotten how to sink.
He dried off and flew away,
a torrid tale to tell;
but at least his day was getting better –
it hadn’t been going well.
.
All this caused the singing butterflies
to entertain us with a chorus of ‘Que Sera Sera’,
and a verse of ‘Wannabee’
(in the key of B) were heard;
with accompanying harmonies
from every local bird –
except the crows;
who knows if they could have
added small delights
or sleepless nights –
I’m thinking probably the latter.
.
So, all in all,
it turned out okay,
with the beautiful singing,
and the rescued bee safely serenaded upon his way.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #bee, #Butterfly, #GardenChorus, #poetry. #poem, #Singing, song
They sang the chorus,
and mumbled the verses;
if only they had learned more words.
Mumble, mumble, shouty, shouty!
Mumble, mumble mumble;
shout, shout, and end with a scream.
I wish that I could go to sleep,
and wake up from a peaceful dream.
It’s been a month now,
and I never saw the change;
but, when years have passed,
and as I near my last,
looking back just seems so strange.
Still fifteen in my head,
but my body disagrees,
time has not been kind,
I still have mind,
but there are tremors in my knees.
.
Older every day,
more late November
than early May,
and the years speed up
as I slow down,
there is a ticking clock
whose alarm is set,
and, yet, I try not to frown…
swimming with too many negative emotions,
you are more likely to drown.
This is not a haiku,
or a love song –
so deal with it.
“Oh, Buzzy Bee,
come back to me,
this silence is an agony;
please return, and set me free,
I’m imprisoned without your lullabee!”
Graeme Sandford 