He dwelled in depths I dared not enter
Satan the landlord; he the renter
He packed his things but left behind
a lidded box he hoped I'd find.
It was not of the Pandora kind.
Curious as to what he'd put inside...
Yes, I was inquisitive enough
to know if its contents had the power
to devour me whole or leave me sour
over the promises he didn't keep...
the vows he broke that made we weep.
He'd stolen my heart and I wanted it back
I the prey, he the hunter.
Sunset descended behind willow trees
before it felt right to open the lid,
for in darkness, he'd left me in sorrow,
grimly haunted by the memories of him.
In stygian shadows is where he often hid.
How fitting the hour of midnight appealed
to me to unseal the box, its cover to lift.
Therein I found his silver wedding band
and felt I should thank him for this final gift.
In the box of dreaded darkness, I found light.
A gift I understood as I held it in my hand.
He the giver, I the receiver.
Geegee, the glam grandma gave kisses to her cat
They are free, make me feel good, and don’t make me fat
The cat appealed to the others, asking Geegee to stop
The others ran off, though grandad merely did hop
Sung to the tune of "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem"
Our infant school nativity,
Directed by Mrs. Page,
Was my first opportunity
To act upon the stage.
I always was an extrovert;
So that appealed to me.
My hopes and dreams of all the years,
An actor I would be.
I wanted to play Joseph,
‘Cos Mary was played by Joyce.
And, of all the little girls in the class,
She was my first choice.
And if I couldn’t be Joseph
And ride along with her.
I’d be a king with golden crown
And frankincense or myrrh
I practised every morning,
And every evening.
Imagining the audience applause
For Joseph or a king.
But when it came to casting,
It didn’t come to pass.
The part that Mrs Page gave to me
Was the back half of the ass.
But one day I’ll be famous,
And then I’ll marry Joyce.
The latest toast of theatreland
And all will know my voice.
I’ll invite all my friends to attend,
As I take centre stage.
They’ll be there in the front row.
But I won’t ask Mrs Page.
When it rains, I don't look for rainbows
Their endless curves have never appealed to me
Instead I look for the puddles
The puddles that remember every family that has danced there
Each person who has looked up and seen love for the first time as the droplets continue to make little rings on the surface
The colours across the sky don't remember that.
The rainbows take all of the attention because of their beauty
But I'll always admire the rain
The rain is forgotten because it doesn't radiate the happiness that everyone yearns for
Maybe that's why I'm forgotten too-
I don't spread the joy and beauty the others do
I don't blind people with colours to make them believe everything is perfect
But does that mean I can't hold the deepest love?
the choir chimed in
a chorus of rebuke
or stones we'd hurl
abusing the adulteress's skin
shoot your pocket rocks
passing judgment comes down
like diluvial rains splashing
gory-red upon your frocks
it was to be...
her luggage, some water-jars
Samaritan's soles cooked &
cured by partiality &
cancel culture, burying stars
Desert Rose Parchment Gazette
circulated the dame's tragedies
watering-hole purists rebuffed her
like Hester of Scarlet
it was to be...
but five (4+1) days late
the state of death
arose, rank and proud
with results beyond debate
Brother Lazarus' fate sealed
in the tacit tombs
there for the world
and his women appealed
none was to be
ne'er was to be
Oh, Creator of Earth,
& Heavens outweighs the
chains of men's destinies
enters seas of dearth
that i should gain
Your cherubic fiddling surceased:
extemporizing treatises in sands
divining springs quenching pain
How impossibly the author
of Tomorrow and hero
of souls and spine
of faith, the purveyor
of Paradise and mercy
of the made, despoils
death's feats & fervor.
Selah. Let it be.
A flamboyant love with a beloved muse,
Transcendent and captivating, the spirit destined to confuse.
As time currents flow, the hearts ignite and swell with amour,
Unveiling words of enchantment leaf by leaf in a tome like an author.
Every encounter with your visage makes me run wild,
To a degree of delineating all the giddiness like I'm a child.
Behind the intense fervor lies heartache and profound scars,
A trapped soul desperately yearning to grasp with distant stars.
The unbearable ache of healing and moving on,
Flashbacks and memories haunting silent intervals from dusk till dawn.
Mixed feelings of confusion and regret,
With a shattered heart that forgives but never forgets.
A heart laid bare awaiting to be loved and healed,
Yet never allowing entry even if they appealed.
From the ruins of love emerge bittersweet endings,
Unlurking shadows of love that bring fleeting winnings.
Touching the soul to its bottomless core,
Leaving the heart in pieces, sore.
A bottle of water,
Bought from the store,
Could be used once,
Then thrown to the floor.
A can of soda,
From the shop,
Once used, discarded,
No need for more pop.
If I look at it,
From a point of view,
Where they don’t want many,
I could only name a few.
But alas, it is nature,
Of those who are made,
To go through the rhythms,
And all are paid.
Either through the means,
Of the cold, hard green,
Or through the senses,
Of what cannot be seen.
But alas, although,
It isn’t to harm,
It isn’t to hurt,
It isn’t a charm.
What’s done is done,
What’s happened has happened,
It gives me a feeling,
That cannot be fastened.
Inflation is a curse,
When supply exceeds demand,
The value of the product,
It is bound to fall.
It doesn’t matter,
How to customer may feel,
Utility always falls,
That can’t be appealed.
One day maybe,
The Law will fail,
But till then will my,
Insecurities prevail.
At the end of the day,
At the end of the night,
They will mean more,
And that is a fright.
Maybe these thoughts,
I deserve a slap in the face,
A punch in my gut,
It’ll put me in my place.
Tendency is, to apportion
Love:
like slices of iced sweet
at a party
braying festive, 2 playful swipes
at a swinging, loaded donkey
(not the husband this time)
toffee for the dear loyal mate --
allotment of love, for precious children;
for all our Prayer-family, appealed
a canopy of blessed shade, like that
bible gourd,
cat and dog needing, also,
some petting reward – no special
reason...just because --
to the poet, as with painter,
superseding costume body of flesh,
art is voice-echo and representative
image
one's deeper beating sentient part
ventricle tools, the writing pad, the brush...
more poignant the words,
broader the expansive, lyrical stroke:
ruled paper or mystifying canvas~ the soul,
a bottomless well from which to
creatively
draw
fluid destinies
for controlled dabbing
abundant dashing-splashing
spirit-inspired
awesomely appealing
saturating pour --
I joined the crowd last night to watch
The local Christmas tree
As it officially got lit,
A lovely sight to see.
Although it’s not my holiday,
The festiveness appealed
And as the neighbors gathered ‘round,
That spirit was revealed.
A choir was accompanied
By instruments of brass
And caroled with enthusiasm
No one could surpass.
The park was filled with families,
Hot chocolate in the air,
And in the moonlight, everyone
Was happy to be there.
in 2009 whilst word-playing around
the trochaic monometer I then found
two lines short& sweet
terse enough to tweet
an integral title is also vital
for this recitative recital
christened it 'footle' as a memorable name
Sadly- it is my only claim to fame
FOR THE RECORD
FIRST FOOTLE Jan 2009 (Plural footles never really appealed- I prefer my original creation)
Bonnie & Clyde
too snide
both died
YESTERDAY’S WISHES
I had my life all mapped out
When young and fancy-free.
I’d play soccer and cricket for England
And the fans would worship me.
I would marry Mavis Watkins,
Who really appealed to me
So I fondly carved our initials
In the bark of the old oak tree.
And, of course, I’d be a millionaire,
Known for philanthropy.
But I was blessed with two left feet.
So sport it wasn’t to be.
Miss Mavis Watkins only laughed.
Now they’ve felled that old oak tree.
And as for being a millionaire,
I’m a few noughts short you see.
So much for yesterday’s wishes.
It’s back to reality
But I have enough to get by on.
And I’m old and fancy-free
Haru and RItm often seemed
out of place and often with
a certain concern.
Yindiao told Jidiao Giam Jiezou
not to Jiving Biayan
he was cheap on the Xuaniu
and lacked concern with
his Cantar's. He put a symbol to indicate
that they had only stumbled upon
the sounds and songs.
Only due to an alteration were they
clashed about what style they
wished to represent. Coda: divided
them as people. Some
where jealous
of each other.
Some were repositioned
because of there standings and appeal.
Six of us are alluring and Amorous
while others only had an uncertain appeal.
They dubbed some as Perfect voice
and unappealing: while the others
were super appealing and lacked
vocal giftiering.
Fussed they appealed to different sectors.
Ritm stood above the rest as he was
Super appealing and had a strong proud bassey voice.
" A World should hear these men sing"
While there the instruments sound magical the background singers
sound soothingly perfect!"
The Music producer said he found one in a tobacco fild.And the other guy was a Machinist at a Nevada Lithium Mine. Bothe were Pianist and guitarist and one was a reknowed flutist.
TATTERED
The flag lay in the bloody muddy field
No longer proud, but torn and tattered
And what once was a standard to wield
Disregarded, as if it no longer mattered
The design featured a sword and shield
Abandoned ones, all severely battered
The fate of the defeated was now sealed
But all those left standing, now shattered
The vanquished, in chains, all appealed
Wounded in agony and blood spattered
Now subservient, all their lands to yield
And that King by victory, was flattered
In the barn turned snack bar,
I scraped the face of my big toe
ascending the stairs. I didn’t care.
Sucrose sweets, summertime treats
belonged between my loosening teeth
Rotting wood, bumblebees
yellow plastic baseball bats
rolling hills flowed in the break of trees
God was shaking the dust out of his welcome mats
At the time He appealed to me, because
sunbeams were his means to call us home,
His warm tender tractor beam
pulling souls wherever they shone
so encapsulating
so intoxicating
so comforting
Please harpoon me my Lord of Light
pull me in, I’m a prize of a catch.
For every day that I stay here, a chipwich
becomes a less appealing snack.
Sipping Highlander Grogg to the dregs of the press.
Life has slowed in China cup, the Christmas recess
is satisfying as gifts are unwrapped, surprises revealed.
Headphones
antique tapestry
gift cards,
games appealed,
and many more things, but it’s the smiles
coming from the groggy lips of the miles
it took to spend the loving length of holiday
with family
its cache
gifts of this lifetime
time with grandsons does pay.
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