Celia was a white witch, but others did not know
They avoided her greenhouse, said she gave a show
Every spell she did with a flourish, for goodness sake
Real reason they stayed away was Cobbie, her extra large snake
Cobbie was her spirit animal, her mentor, her familiar, her muse.
He looked like he could crush and devour giant men by threes and twos.
He was actually a kind-hearted snake, who protected Celia daily.
I always gave him a wide berth, tiptoeing around him gingerly.
Wild wily witchy cat sat on a spell book, looking phat.
We gave him a wide berth for he is a professional pitter pat.
And you don’t want to rile up a Halloween cat like that!
Fair winds and following seas.
May full sails surge with scudding breeze.
May peaceful moorings host your craft
wherever indulgent winds waft.
A toast now to your safe return.
May choppy seas be left astern.
May evening offer pleasing berth
to ensconce in halcyon firth.
we tremble …
or we don’t
night wears a net of stars
or a brume canopy
but in beamy blue or ink
it is only the mystery we fear
the dim trepidation
but a mask.
we are all bound -
from first thrum our
courses are set
and naught but ours, solely
that trek, our dearest allowance
yet only one harbor calls
one anchorage, just
a realm of limitless patience and price
an enigma, amaranthine
where the choice has been made
for all of us.
we call it’s name
with screams … or whispers
and we tremble …
or we don’t.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 3, 2023
Abc to the P
Servitude, will I flee
Captivity, I sue.
All thanks to poetrysoup
Like a lion,
I roar
With the Iron,
I roll,
Poetrysoup's throne,
Will I stand to withhold
In the berth of little pen,
Lost in the depth of sinful den
And falls on the lanky route.
Sighting above, poetrysoup's root,
I cruise like a soldier in his lusty hood.
In the emptiness of proficiency,
Dying in the bed of nonentity,
And finding not the aid box.
Agreeably, it caused the brain's burst
For my name, poetrysoup stood and faught
Now I stand I say "I live to find no fault"
Once again,
Appreciation to poetrysoup's stunt.
THEME:Appreciation
Berth Write/limerick
There was a young wordsmith from Perth
who when writing would question the worth
of words from the thesaurus
he so hoped would awe us
though placed in a substandard berth
John G. Lawless
6/9/2015
Over the ocean's creed
Lie in waiting with foreign breed.
Heavy metals laced the ocean's petals
En-route to the creek in cargoed cans.
Rice from the fields of Thailand,
Iced fishes from freezing Iceland.
Craps of computer hardware from Shenzen,
Packs of frozen skeletal turkeys from China.
Smuggled contrabands in hidden sacks
Matches and toothpicks from Japan's racks.
Cornfield of men at the wharf
Old and young, giant and dwarf
Exposing chest to the moment cling
Hurling sacks of rice the cargoes bring
Staggering weightless like David's sling
"No food for the lazy" the saying goes
When the ships come to berth,
Able men to the harbor dart.
A wave of pity descends my lung
Watching men so silly and strong-
Getting strangled beneath heavy loads,
Smiling wickedly at crumpled notes.
If only those energies could grace a trade,
And suffocate beneath the weights of knowledge.
When those ships come to berth,
May be they will someday leave this shore
Filled with the toil they bore
With our local brands in foreign lands.
up in the v-birth
our lovers turf
this is what I see
you lay under the covers
where we were lovers
sleeping I let you be
I left you laying there
I just had to stare
there was so much to see
your hips nice and cutt
the covers to your butt
I love them completely
I could see your boob
so silky smooth
a beautiful double D
on your boob was your hair
that none could compare
beautiful as could be
I just watched you
my love so true
the one just for me
she is my true love
from heaven above
sent just for me
and though I'm a wild card
she works realy hard
does everything for me
she get health insurance
so there is no deterant
a doctor I go see
she even washes clothes
acourse I don't oppose
clean she'll have me be
she is so smart
with a beautiful heart
don't know what she sees in me
I help her raze her son
treat him like the only one
my little scallywag he be
no matter what occurs
I know's I lover her
and she, loves, me
and she holds my soul
by my fishing pole
caught like a fish I be!
by Capt. Mike
Haunted berth
Tonight I dream a hundred dreams
With this in my memory kept,
Beneath a lock that’s chained to an iron frame
To conceal the lost remains
Yet this dark, cold night seems blameless
When the moon is lit with gray,
And I lay warm in my haunted berth
A long, long way from home
For in all our evenings stolid calm
I hope for my passage home,
Here far beyond this placed storm
In the shadow of an evening gone
By m.n.
marklnorton@shaw.ca