A sink bucket
Today I forgot to buy milk, drank black coffee
it is easy to remember the past shines like jewels
It was the winter of 1952, and my brother carried
a big sink bucket, I was the smallest one
and we were on our way to the coal depot to
find a hole in the fence to steal coal.
We were caught by a man who wore an armband
of the new people in command
they were taking no nonsense from
anyone least of all seven-year-old thieves.
I have often seen that you put a uniform on someone who
who never had power, they behave like little Hitler sprats.
On the way home with two empty buckets, we came across
a wooden fence that had partially fallen, we took as many
planks as we could carry and had a warm Christmas Eve
THREE LEGGED TABLE
We are a three legged table
But we can no longer stand
Our son’s no longer with us
And we try to understand
How to cope with our loss
Called to fight for our land
Sent out to the front line
To that unit undermanned
Now here we are just three
Not a future we’d planned
But the bombs keep falling
As waves of war are fanned
Both loving him and country
A blue and yellow armband
... if I'm a One too...
then Who might be You
and if I thought that three
could be a cloud
then four might also
be adore for core Sounds
"... I'm loud and clear..."
said Clair to her Heir
and they might have thought God
was just a voyeur, til now...
"... I like your pants..."
she reminds
and then in a flash
at the depths of his mind
a second life
where he happen by Chance
found an old Soul
in a hippy armband...
"... I like that bracelet..."
he said
"... and I like to rewind
the time..."
I knew back then
we're two of a kind
"... I got the code..."
if you...got the jam
And so the soup’s, coming to a boil
Very difficult, not to get embroiled
Rumour has it, Hitler’s on the rise
Goose stepping, in poetic disguise
Jackboots kick open, doors of rhyme
Acrostics embed, swastikas sublime
Vaxxers accused, of a new blitzkrieg
Covid deniers, offer vapid intrigue
Enigma encoded, in sonnets of fear
Lady Haw Haw, sobs crocodile tears
All together poets, salute Sieg Heil!
Conspiracy theories, jabs are on trial
Contagious haikus, causing upset
Biden instigating, everyone’s death
God’s gone paranoid, so we’re told
Playing both sides, to steal our souls
Armband stars, equal covid passes
Monoku writers, killing the masses
Limericks are evil, piled full of poop
No place for crap jokes, tainting soup
Poets reincarnated, in nom de plume
Childish dark magic, one has assumed
So do ends, always justify the means
In war and pandemic, mania’s routine
By
David Kavanagh
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Grandmother Is Not Amused
By Elton Camp
Queen Elizabeth certainly isn't amused
That Prince Harry again stands accused
Although his latest is easier to understand
Than wearing a uniform with Nazi armband
But playing strip billiards isn't nearly as bad
As some of the things done by Harry's dad
Henry the Eighth showed the royals the way
They have followed his example to this day
If the worst he does is all his clothes to doff,
It's likely the public will just laugh it off
But the next time Harry decides to strip
He'll check if a camera his pals did slip
I paid solemn visitation to the site
of The Unknown Girlfriend's Tomb
to give honor and pay respects
to romance slain
on the battlefield of love.
No wreath of tears did I lay there
I wore no black armband of regret
there was no mournful bugle call
silently did I salute
lovers lost,? ?who sacrificed all.
And in memory did I recount vividly
the ambushes,? ?skirmishes and attacks
in the bedrooms and the bars
and looked at my oft wounded heart
no longer bloodied but,? ?bearing scars?
My hand I laid upon the? ?cold hard stone
of memorial,? ?to every anonymous amour,
who by Cupid's lead arrows had been slain
and uttered the survivors thanks
for experience,? ?strength and wisdom gained.
Then walked home alone,? ?in the rain.
If I could kill myself and do it over again
I waited until the end of the world to open your gift
Thanks for handing me hell
I’ll do what I can
As my songs begin to fade
I wonder what could have been
As I lie within an eastern wind
I wonder if I’ll ever see peace again
Plantations were once gardens
Speeches were the premonitions of decaying martyr s
I miss peace and I’ve never rested eyes on her
So thanks for handing me hell
I love her because she’s untouched and pure
Poetry equals the souls of men spoken
Hell raised me so I’m a product broken
Abide by my emergence
This is the last breath of a merchant
When sadness finds others
You’re reminded of the virtues in what you have left
I went numb when I learned to pray
Don’t you miss what could have been
I saw angels falling from the sun
Knowing is everything but I don’t want to know
Try not to take things too far
They’ll never let you go
I waited until the end of the world to open your gift
Don’t you miss what could’ve been
Thanks for handing me hell
If I could kill myself and do it over again
my heart worn
an armband on my sleeve
although ignored by many
but by you was seen
thinking it was hidden
a foolish little scheme
looking through the facade
and seeing into my dreams
what do you do now?
as you remove the cuff
capturing my love
calling hard my bluff
Eyes widening on her fashion tattoo
Fine black lines freshly pierce you
Faded blue scrolls on a sailor's arm
Thick black Celtic lumbar tattoo
Egyptian hieroglyphic symbols taboo
Tiny fine line rainbow and blue.
Mischievous eyes hinting a secret spot
High fashion models strut for the shot!
The tiniest tattoo there is so discreet..
Teeny rose tattoo inside there is so sweet.
The needle sews in another fine stitch
Forever under the skin their name on you.
Little designer angel and heart tattoo
Back of the neck, inside the ankle
Armband,lower back, tummy,inside of lip
Skull,have we missed anywhere yet?
Tribal markings to denote you belong
"They're beauty adornments"so goes the song.