Myopic muddle
as beauty swirls
hues of heaven
yet bypasses
static statues that
pose as sentient
beings beknighted
dawn’s divine dream
seen as bland mirror
on ebbing eyewash
cathartic colour is
a universal uplift
even for low level
lustrous earth dweller
Immersed in skewed slant
I bandy icicled retort
as though taut timing
ever swayed rigid
stone age postures
elysian echo a speck
in azurite caves
to auditory aloofness
allied to blinkered
whim ‘s wanton
plight with dull
and dim twist
dispersed among
trivial terrains
alienation personified
vessel vacuous and void
rehabilitation of
the wayward faculty
a burst balloon blip
outsider ostracised
from gilded gardens
and sumptuous bloom
of ripe recrudescence
still limp laggard
on hackneyed cue
might yet stumble on
the fig of wakening
He has a pencil and imagination.
He sits above a marble tabletop
a commanding plateau aloft -
shadow-shades of wintery geese.
A sea swept fable
overlooked by a high stool
and a six-year-old Zeus.
Eggshells grain and creamy caps,
a crystalline surf slaps swirly shores,
blue veins score billowing stone
deep unto watery bone.
Contours of light
shelf, trench and darkling nights
there jabberwocky did roam.
A vast wave engraved realm
where pencil-thin old salts
jig, and swing
upon deck or land.
Grand fleets stand
flogging savage coasts.
Guns hammer truculent hosts
with smokey enfilades
and thick odors of bacon.
Odyssean voyages are lost
in greasy spots,
while an embattled buccaneer
spreads his buttery art across
a voluminous chart.
Then he, the breakfast boy
bends above the roving,
the erstwhile and damned,
sketches a gull or three
with a sailor's hand.
With a god-like paw
the child draws shallows, sandbars
reefs and more
swallow or befog a seascape,
while great ships converge to rescue
a bold seaman
and his bandy-legged dog.
Always...Hungry
Sometimes...Sad
Always...Angry
Sometimes...Glad
Sometimes...Bawdy
Always...Bandy
Sometimes...Naughty
Always...Randy
I wonder after his black spectacles,
if I could recognize his phantom's scare
by his bandy left foot, something he'd wear:
constrictor turtlenecks, cowboy buckles
his trials decided by flayed knuckles
his tombstone eyes, the depth of night they bear.
I wonder at the factors of his fear
as I adorn him with cherry jewels.
Your bass breathes, haply, the contents of love;
it whispers to me my shadows' secrets,
but dark articles ingesting your name,
face-eating barnacles that smutch our flame.
I'll be glad —a pigeon may be a dove—
to sprinkle Shakespeare over your Poe's grunts.
Wait. To you, she's “La Lopez”. To me, “Jen”, always.
Doyenne of “Anaconda”. A date, indeed!
You’d have me narrate the gravamen,
say how it was? She was a ten. Great, she seemed.
Or perhaps an eight. But never again!
Well, she doesn’t like real men. Cheapskate, too.
I’ll tell you straight, it all went bandy when,
as our train pulled out of Penn, to celebrate ‘us’,
she called her lawyer. I hate zen precepts,
but marriage? With no debate? Comedienne!
mauve drapes hang fondly
colouring her bandy shack
like lavish gift bows
If this is America,
All I’ve been taught,
As a student in school
Or in life, adds to naught.
If this is America,
Fairness and truth
Are mere follies we bandy
About in our youth.
If this is America,
Bullies may rule,
With justice expected
By only a fool.
If this is America,
Decency’s out,
For power and flattery’s
What it’s about.
If this is America,
So much is wrong
That all I can think is
That I don’t belong.
Whistles, bells, and wonderous sights,
Brilliant kaleidoscopic lights.
The pageantry always sells,
Bright Carnivals and Carousels.
Parents watch their children ride,
Reminds them of the child inside.
Round and round and round they go,
The Tilt-A-Whirl completes the show.
In a seat made just for two,
The Ferris Wheel's amazing view.
Sweethearts in a state of bliss,
Sharing a romantic kiss.
Toddlers with their legs so bandy,
Stuck on sticky cotton candy.
Funnel cakes to fill the belly,
Doughnuts stuffed with fruited jelly.
The challenge after many tries,
Perchance to win a fluffy prize.
Smiles, shouts, and all the laughter,
Crowds always get just what they're after.
As the night begins to wane,
All movement like a weathervane.
Tomorrow when the day begins,
The Carnival begins again.
[Got stuck in traffic today. The car in front of me was…
I kid you not… everyone’s favourite flying car!]
*
Fifty years ago they said the oil would be depleted
Long before our third millennium was ever greeted
They told us wearing platform shoes would make our legs go bandy
I think, perhaps, they meant if you drink fifteen pints of shandy
Tenerife would fall into the sea and by the way
This would send a tidal wave to wash us all away
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was in front of me today
Of course it was a copy (which I shouldn’t need to say)
But when we hit a traffic jam, old Chitty didn’t fly
And so I must conclude that my whole life has been a lie!
Bet is bandy
Hair quite sandy
Thin and tall
Nose too small
Ears stick out
Lips that pout
Chin is pointed
Double-jointed
Arms are long
Hands too strong
Teeth all bad
Bet's so sad
Christmas
witness
Noel’s
sleigh bells
Twinkling
inkling
Reindeer
brings cheer
Season
reason
Santa
grant a
snowfall
for all
Cherub
hubbub
Glisten
listen
Yule tunes
bing croons
Advent
time spent
Manger
changer
Starlight
glows bright
Ice skates
elates
Tidings
glidings
Fire place
shows grace
Gold rings
joy brings
Belief
relief
Elves charm
spurns harm
Bandy
Candy
Spices
vices
Gift range
exchange
Excite
this night
Beaming
gleaming
Cookies
rookies
Blessing
guessing
Carols
hymn pearls
Fir trees
yes please
Greetings
meetings
Glory
story
Jolly
holly
Merry
cherry
North Pole
has soul
Nutmeg
clothes peg
St.Nick
warm flick
Relish
well wish
Peace dove
feel love
rejoice
one voice
Date posted ; 13th December 2022
Celestial hierarchy flow throughout the universe in form
Glowing spirits fold their wings to breath the deep
To settle into tiny rooms to contemplate on sleep
And then there is so much more to the story
More than you might think
Babies form impressions at an early age
Images of angels playing cosmic games
Before they sleep, before they are born
There are so many secrets left to keep
Filled with joy as ages pass
In seconds at a second chance
A second glance into the future
And so much math to learn about
To bandy about in all that traffic
It is a wonder how it all works out
Angels fly without a sky
Without a net they hold on to their pride
In a café in Paris angels have a coffee and a cigarette
On the West Bank winter storms in early in January
Refrigerants are extra by the Metro
There are no regrets
Gossip by the Eiffel Tower is immense
Their flights are scheduled in the morning
Boarding passes are so boring as they laugh
You can do the math
Now, you see your mislaid candy,
Still your very property and handy.
So, don’t words with your sister bandy
Nor repeat that her hair is sandy:
You might be saying she was The Thief,
Recklessly priming her for noisy grief;
For that’s what ‘Sandy’ supplies in brief
Whilst no daughter thief is fathered by a chief …
And-Alas!-you let candy your mind swirl
Whereas neither gender nor age makes you a girl.
Dr Seuss
Are you a cat
Or a goose
Sorry, I must not say that
It may offend the cat or the goose
Dr Seuss
I'm so sorry
That you feel the need
To withdraw some books that
Are a delight to read
To children everywhere
Dr Seuss
Do you think that children even notice
Or even care
What colour, country, culture
Mentioned in your books
Dr Seuss
To point out differences where there is none.
Instead of teaching, we are all the same under the sun.
Dr Seuss
Perhaps we should bar
Tall people
Short people
Fat people
Skinny people
Bandy people
Sandy people
Cats with tall hats
Opinionated poets
This was a poem I put on Poetry Soup previously
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