2day once more was fun day, because the sun was there:
Of course! Like all the sundays, as usually they were...
if only you were there 4 me, and not 4 all together!
The sun has gone, and in the mood, it's moon day that begins
and all around the ticking sounds that I hear all around me,
there's suddenly my Blackberry: a ringtone's sent to me.
As yesterday was 'gain your birthday, told the ringtone sent to me,
As usual, I'm sending you 4 tunes to comfort me;
because I know that once again, as for many a birthday
you surely still are thinking of the things that run the same way:
There is The Sun, there is The Belle and Moon day !s their frenemy's day;
and I am used to sail away for it's too hard to see
that your stubborness clings to him and it won't let us be...
Goodbye, my love; I hope next year you'll come4tunes to comfort me.
The Sussex lad, to title and land born,
An alumni, now he stands proudly tall.
In Oxford students pass at future’s dawn,
For some the inspiration was his call.
Provocative, a mighty pen his sword,
Expelled for godless view from hallowed hall.
The Baronet poet, friend to a Lord,
The Gothic king’s voice did incite them all.
His Mary worshipped at her husband‘s feet,
She held his heart tight from death’s final flame.
Did they engage in black acts, pagan mete?
A dark and often troubled soul laid claim.
Into the storm set sail to the end foretold,
He died before his talent could unfold.
He stood bravely before me
with a medal of honor in his right hand
and a bandage of agony around his left knee
It seemed like he had struggled to stand,
his crutches lay useless on the ground
I found it hard to understand why,
a soldier in pain didn't even frown
With a voice firm but dry
his words shook me like thunder
"You're now the man of this house"
he uttered like a worn-out hunter
quivering up my legs like a terrified mouse
Drowning my mind through cold ears
he passed his sincere respect and sunken tears
The anniversary of your treason
Disturbs the air—again! Like every year
Floating, whispering, the one real reason
You left me; the name never leaves my ear.
“Him!” a name I can’t even speak, wouldn’t dare.
For it would cause chaos and confusion
Too daunting, distances too far to bear,
Can’t even comprehend that illusion.
You left me here to sit—sick! And the thought
Of you and him in that beautiful embrace…
It’s a damn shame what you did! I OUGHTA!!!!!
Just, calm down—please! Dear Lord, please give me grace.
The love you gave—your perfect portrayal,
The love you took—your perfect betrayal.
Submitted for Olusegun Adelana's "Betrayal" contest
no i don't make sense
i'm most always tense
and my heart has dents
but why should that stop us?
my theories are juvenile
my thoughts are in a pile
and my worries go on for a while
but you won't notice.
i don't have much
i can screw up everything i touch
and my morals sometimes wind up in a bunch
but i won't stop being in love with you.
no i'm not pretty
my days are most always shitty
and i have too much pity
but my soul is open to you.
Count thy Blessings
Count thy blessings, name them one by one
Compose thyself as pythons do on their preys
Ignite thy spirit to the rising sun
Rejoice with thy hands for points of thy being.
Compose thy songs with a theme of pure praise
Shout a Holy name thee deemed worthwhile
Wine and dine in the hollow of thy soul-
A resourceful asset for impulses,
For pints of freedom worth warm worthy toast
And radiant of clustered wings like birds.
If by chance thee spot ways to noble course
Count it to thy pride by abstracting lines.
Behold how cute to have survived the game
Count thy blessings aloud one by one.
(A Tale of Fifty years)
It was a dreary cold teenage wedding
all the old folk gave us absolute hell,
organ player plays “Where are you heading?”
Only the bloody dog wished us well.
Knaresborough, a freezing December night
gave us a hellish chilly reception,
the caravan gas stove refused to light
gone the illusion of rampant conception.
Fifty years on, a love of heart and soul
here in our terrace home in “Kitty Fold”
Played our part in life’s perpetual scroll
now yearn to the young our story told.
All around us an institution fails
this dreary teenage wedding onwards sails!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Remember the day when conversation strikes
Between the two of us for the very first time
Back then, I had no inkling of your likes
The way you know not of my love for lime
Remember the day when you first called me
I picked up the phone at the very first ring
We chatted freely from the trees to the sea
And together this ballad we start to sing
Remember the day when I'm asked to be your girl
I was blushing and grinning from ear to ear
Till now, you are still as precious as the pearl
Just like the first day we dated last year
Remember this special day of the many few
When I tell you just how much I Love You!
He was born in Genoa,
and his mother was Susanna;
and he set sail at the age of fourteen,
to begin a new exploration age!
His father Domenico
gave him inspiration and courage...
while his three brothers: Giacomo,
Bartolomeo and Giovanni ventured with him
on his long and dangerous voyages,
and accused of many atrocities...
they were sent back to Spain in chains!
A visionary with an extraordinary man's ego,
followed in the footsteps of Marco Polo...
and in his final days, he died a disappointed man!
We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.