The bauble caught my reflection
Upon closer inspection
Face all distorted
I must get this sorted
Poured a beer in self abjection
Surrendered by the ebbing tides
Shards of those who passed this way,
The yielding mud deigns to confide,
Its secret things now on display.
Sifting mud, seeking connections
To touch a memory strewn asunder,
A pipe, a toy, brings forth reflections
In a mudlarks eyes, a bygone wonder.
To rescue from the clinging mire
A fragment of a thing once cherished,
Now but scrap, yet once desired
The bauble of a soul, now perished.
Entry for
Mudlark Poetry Contest
27/3/2020. Placed 2nd.
Turkey and stuffing Xmas is coming
Plum pudding nuts and fruits
We are already starting to go loopy loops
Never mind the money or the cost
It’s time to fill up the trough
Christmas though doesn’t mean that much to me
As I never believed in the nativity
So there is not much in it for me
Or non-that I could ever see
As I get older though I agree
I should be looking out more for humanity
And that is what Xmas should be
The downside is it is only once a year
And only some will feel good cheer
But we should still be there
To ensure that we always share
Every day of the year of the Christmas spirit
Xmas should not therefore tear asunder
What we owe to each other
As we could together fight worldwide hunger
There is after all 365 days of the year
And not just a Xmas feast
So you lead and I will make peace
From the star from the East
HAPPY XMAS
DAMO x
I’m a Christmas bauble
I was hanging on a tree
Then I caught ‘Tinselitis’
Now no one wants to hang around with me!
For many years I was used
As a Christmas decoration
The children would stare at me
With awe and admiration
This year I became very ill
For ‘Tinselitis’ has no cure
The owner of the Christmas tree
Has thrown me out the door
Now I’m an outcast at Christmas
Oh how I long to be draped on that tree
Now I’m going to rehabilitation
For baubles no one wants to see
Please look after your Christmas baubles
They are dejected when they are alone
‘Tinselitis’ is very contagious
Don’t let it infect your baubles at home!
Silly Christmas Cartoon Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
12~17~16
Fallen to the frail
inside eggshells
tap tap tap
with a stream of liquid life
ebbing brightly
shining down the drain
dried to paper width
and still held round in palms
lighter than a baby bird
and more fragile.
In time, this marvel
will be painted opaque pearl.
A hollow will be made
a hinge
a door
delicately cut with precision
ornate white velvet will cushion
the inner chamber
lining the lack of life
with falsity and vanity.
Gilded gold legs bowed
and a metallic spherical point
on the top of the orb
and we see.
There is the nesting place
of our dreams.
Faberge holds no flame to our Creator
with clumsy fingers yet wrought
with a perfection deemed so
by imperfect eyes.
While we can dress an egg in style
we cannot reproduce the life
once inside
and we cannot begin to understand
the simplest wonders once
hidden from our eyes
inside the paper shell.
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