Dice, the goddess of morals, asked her mother, Themis
Why there's divorce, gambling, abortion, and alcoholism?
Why should dehumanization, like a Bloodstone, beamish?
Why should knives of nemesis nip the knots of neutralism?
Cores of conscience, like collapsed castles, Themis said, crash
The self within the inner sanctum, like sand grains, is split.
Joy, peace, harmony, happiness, and self-fulfillment clash
Empathy and sympathy submit to apathy's conflict.
Demons in humans delicately dominate their domains.
As though white sheep amongst black cattle, they cudgel their brains.
Their will to do good, like delinquent house dogs, is in chains.
Blood of cutthroat competitions, to win, flows in their veins.
Honesty should guide one and all, Themis said to Dice.
Summit of self-splendidness alone will never suffice.
Categories:
beamish, evil, integrity, life, love,
Form: Sonnet
In Beamish Street, collecting the rent,
Was how my Tuesday mornings were spent.
An arduous task at the best of times.
Nell McFee, hubby in jail for various crimes.
Sobbing to me as she had no rent to pay,
Offering to make it up to me in some other way.
With Billy Jones, I knew I would be in for a fight.
Swore he paid twice last week and taught his dog to bite.
Seventy-eight houses in Beamish Street, every one rented.
I heard every excuse not to pay that had ever been invented.
The Browns, a dear old couple. He was ill, medicine’s dear.
Always on time, they couldn’t pay. She greeted me with a tear.
I have become tough as nails, oblivious to renter’s pleads,
But just this once to be the helping hand someone needs,
I ticked my list ‘Browns FULLY PAID’ and stayed a while.
Shoved my own money in the bag, continued with a smile.
Categories:
beamish, house,
Form: Rhyme
He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.
Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.
We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.
Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy
So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.
Categories:
beamish, poetry, tribute, word play,
Form: Rhyme
Tryst edged ... Aurora whisper serendipitous saffrons,
e'er forging balms beamish strands to aerate crown's expanse, whilst bestrewn
lissome mists waltzes amongst errant gasp caught in rapture.
An ephemeral cloudburst evaporates on supine
silhouettes of the gods. Pristine manna with a sigh ... midst hollow
utter, guides dulcet zephyrs to petrichor arousals.
Purged euphoric realm steep in its prismatic solitude
poise, waft chimerical imagery effervescent caprices,
volley afar ... harks labyrinths mellifluous murmur.
Vesper, yon the zenith of Terra, breathe his claim toward
the cosmos, granting resplendent panacea a vestured vault,
... occasions an epiphany as moonglade o'er a lake.
Categories:
beamish, creation, extended metaphor, imagery,
Form: Sijo
A lovely lady beguiles a luckless lad
Of unwitting others she might have had
The fairest face may be foul of heart
Deft deceit is how now it shall start
Like fated moths drawn to the light
Novices can't tell wrong from right
This lady then connives confusing witch's what
Spins spells that do convince what is not
She conjures him to shirk sacred duty
So sure he's blinded by her beauty
She coyly coddles this beamish boy
His twisted thinking in frabjous joy
He peers deeply down into her soul
Seeing darkness finding blackest coal
It hearkens back to Eden's first sin
Stirs silent shadows sunk long within
Beware that all's not as it seems
Beauty's illusion can change what it means
Purpose or pulchritude which will impress
When next we witness a damsel's distress
Categories:
beamish, beauty, boy, dark, heart,
Form: Couplet
Alone in the hallway where time stands still
She serves out her sentence against free will
Brilliance shimmers under torn papal masks
Submitting to servitude and mundane tasks
She listens as the trapped butterfly pleas
Wishing to break out, waiting to be free
Pining to spread it's painted wings and fly
To float on light breezes 'cross bluish skies
To be the butterfly bouncing about
through beamish fields of daisies she sings out
Flittering and fluttering she is in love
Soaking up the rays from the sun up above
Break free from the mask, let your bright beauty shine
Stamp out life's fears, leave all your demons behind
Categories:
beamish, butterfly, fear,
Form: Rhyme
Barefoot in a field of daisies
hair blowing in the breeze
smile beaming ear to ear
babbling brook streaming nearby
A picture, no words
A story, unheard
Sunrays shining down
from the cerulean morning sky
a parasol twirling in her hand
shading those beamish eyes
The cottage of stone hidden
in a bed of spruce trees
ashen smoke flowing
from the ancient chimney
A picture, no words
A story, unheard
The picture won't change
It's what you construe
Each story may vary
based on a point of view
Pictures, paintings, natural beauty
drawings, photos, or sculptures
A picture, no words
A story, unheard
Categories:
beamish, art,
Form: Free verse
Neo*,
My beamish boy,
Who slayed 'The Jabberwock'.
"Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
My friend.
---
*Neo is part Blue Heeler, part mongrel and all good. Mostly.
Lines used from Lewis Carrolls 'Jabberwocky'.
Categories:
beamish, devotion, dog, friend,
Form: Cinquain
I know a scamp who chortles frabjously
as in the springtime galumphing he goes.
And just to show how wacky he can be,
he makes his tongue point up to touch his nose!
He has no wicked claws or eyes with flame
to match those of the manxome Jabberwock.
But just beware his jaws. Although he’s tame,
he can’t be stopped once he begins to talk!
I vouch that he can jabber endlessly
and have me at the end of my short rope.
My ears just might fall off one day, for he
gyres gibberish just like a gyroscope.
I dub my beamish grandson “Jabberwack”
for how he acts and how he loves to yak!
For Debbie Guzzi's "Go Ask Alice" Contest
Categories:
beamish, family, funny, Grandson,
Form: Sonnet
A gentle breeze solaced by my langsyne
Enamored at your bonnie smile at first sight
I longed for time to see more of your shine
Flowed by your wavy smooth satiny coiffe an admired alight.
A beamish time reeled by your look so beauty
You prompted me to stay at grace
I saw you once again reveled by fancied eternity
Mizzled by sunshine and the rainbow that thumped my heart pace.
A memory though unsung seemed cherished by your sobbed eyes
Called for more purity, dignity and affections implicit
I bogged by the state of mind that appeared more of nighs
Implored by a wish to my ladylove a love that is tacit.
A captured sketch of yours by the words framed in ecstasy
Colored more with unspoken admiration, anticipation and temptation
I painted and I painted it without imagery
My ladylove a love for you felt today dropped by ambiguous destiny.
------------------------------------------x---------------------------------------------
Categories:
beamish, dedication, hope, love, passionlove,
Form: Epyllion