My anonymity runs deep. The world
without the self. What a relief! Simple
sky blue belief. Simple as this headache.
Truth, laws, physics. God’s first and only words,
wafer-thin old moss-covered stones. Amen
to men. Where a man is at no matter what.
Now and then a baseball game, night of love.
Knowing to whom, for whom, one is bespoke.
It’s a simple secret shared, longevity,
watching for the smoke to be black or white.
Keeping busy, forgetting to fear death,
giving up desiring to be touched,
belonging to the loved ones and wooful war.
It too may be a sign to go on alone.
The total bummer of our wasted Test summer….ahem
Does jar well below par no cigar not even a cafe creme
After another dafter dumber and dumber apophthegm
The tedium of this charlatan medium saying carpe diem
Couldn’t be any glummer still will take Baz to the ATM
Laughter him on a whim mending a forlorn torn hem
We pleaded tree needed to go not the Root but stem
Pretending will be happy ending Bazball’s Bethlehem
ECB & Key glib in tandem fib as random as a Lib Dem
English cricket’s viral spiral now coughing up phlegm
The gory gashes from Ashes lashes will still condemn
Then Stokes says that’s all folks was absolute mayhem
Jokes he’ll back in the 2027 eleven it’s us versus them
After hoax new Kiwi bloke evokes masterstrokes a gem
No longer going for broke a stronger bespoke requiem
Will coax the magic unlike the tragic Bazball "La Boheme"
No superhero cloaks as from acorns grow oaks says Flem
his lacerated face bespoke
a rugged brawler
a life pockmarked with fisticuffs
he’d truly once been a mauler
‘til one fateful evening
in a smoke-filled ring
his chin shattered ‘gainst a fist
~ tied him to apron strings
PERFECT PERSONIFICATION-:-
eagerly
pursued
commitments
conferring
emotion
in an OPEN INVITATION
lyrical
tones
prompt
accessible
auras
of a SENSE OF IDENTITY
particularly
inviting
favourable
bespoke
blessing
A Spoke broke.
Once Bespoke,
In the ruins I toke.
What a joke.
Wish I'd croak.
Could a fire stoke?
Can it go unspoke?
Too much smoke,
Im bound to choke.
I see my Shadow as a cloak.
It looks so baroque.
I peer to see no folk.
The fire grows with burning oak.
I might die of heatstroke.
What I heard was not misspoke,
The time has come to uncloak
Yea yea slow poke,
Take another toke.
Just rememeber, you cant de-coke,
Until you fix that effing Spoke!
Delectable daze
aligned aesthetic
shimmered swoon
of
bespoke ripples
svelte meander
induced isthmus
vapour vaulting
veracity stoic
conscious cognizant
bard assimilating
aureate archways
seismic
rendered relish
goading effervescent
literary lullaby
interwoven
opportune foramen
tinctured chasm
or otherworld
fractured frisson
bejewelled
template tempter
sonic madrigal
enticing
creative lunge
toward tiered
vanilla visuals
for
ethereal lyric
deft minstrel
of
fermented finesse.
lithe moulder
authorised pen
swimming
enigmatic estuaries
whilst
dance retinue
sunshine swathes
pivotal pirouette
spawning
erudite enjambment
satin weave
gossamer lens
whose
amaranthine fixed
focus eschews
bland doggerel
instead
chatoyant cynosure
replenished quill
lacquers
indigo imbued
bunting’s warble
inducing
hypnotic portrait
surreal verse
delirious
weave web
unravelled
dream denouement
of
epic entablatures
Round clock without zero
Is the SOLAR clock
Round the day because of orbit
For planet each bespoke
Days vary
Varies the weather
In solar systems these
In the whole universe
In the very whole
Is there exists another
Who is making cheese
Cheese like all
The dags the humans
Cats are also cheese the like
What if these magnetic fields then
Are the real spy
Gases gather
Form in colors
Beautiful the shapes
Forces form the various sources
Form another day
Gold Medal Marathoner, Susan Ashley
Never can be accused of acting rashly
Carefully crafts each word, line, and stanza
Wowing us with her prolific poetry bonanza!
Silver Medal Marathoner, Craig Cornish
We applaud your brilliant marathon flourish
Bespoke wit and singular vision ascend
Your distinct voice ran strong to the end
Bronze Medal Marathoner, Michael Coy
Whose wit and humor we all enjoy
A Spaniard, perhaps—yet a Welsh-British New Yorker?
Whose layered literary allusions prove he's a real corker
I made no deal
I offered no parity
For my son's recovery
To earn this disparity
Is it a sadistic choice
Some cosmic joke?
To give back to me one
And take away the other bespoke?
To heal the impossible
And afflict the mother?
To give both joy and despair
In the same week?
I am broken.
I'm broken, unfixéd.
So please, just stop.
Let me love and be loved.
And let me laugh my days
In the joy of their happiness.
So badly do I want to give up
To give in. To quit.
And you didn't make me that way
You made me to fight.
To love, even when--
No, especially when
It hurts.
Broken and weary
Lift me up
Don my rusted armor
Hand me a sharp stick
And show me my foe.
Appalling.. hard not to diss the taking the piss
No not talking about the corking bliss of Travis
Bazball calling card just a scarred hubris abyss
Head’s rabid ripsnorter slaughter so rapid
Livid our boys stupid not vivid instead vapid
Fan fury wishing they will stop fishing
Hack jury dishing out flak still swishing
Go toe to toe with our oldest coldest foe
Blow by blow new low ego the worst woe
Wickets in a row..have a go free flow they all crow
Forget every aficionado all about Bazball bravado
Can hear them say no other way to play we know
Can’t teach reach each puppet that Mac did bestow
Beseech after another breach it’s the Muppet show
Boycott & Vaughan did warn along with many ex baggie greens
After the laughter at rafter of dafter scenes…still chill your beans
Really.. Stokes bespoke blokes choked were smoked...“Has Beens”!
Would you Adam & Eve it on the eve of the Ashes a simple gambit
Folks Bazball blokes won't choke are bespoke Stoked and up for it
Heed & feed that decreed need for SPEED to impede Aussie cricket
Trick pick slick mix of quicks in nick at a decent lick.... just the ticket
Get set for the ferocity of this racy quintet each one a bowling bandit
Along with Big Ben his pacy men with a stun speed gun for fun habit
Fastest speedster pack all out pace attack ever sent to OZ God dammit
Genesis of old nemesis not giving a toss about the old Colonial boss innit
In a spin larrikin sin of BazBall getting under the Aussies skin.. just admit it!
On trial England's new wile & guile style versus all that vile bile denial sh*t
Stokes's bowling banquet not just a treasure chest but also a safety blanket
Reigning by regaining the Ashes crest of best Test conquest on the planet!
Not being woke..the system or cistern is definitely broke
Leaders plunder.. provoke under an asylum seeker cloak
Bleaker bloke masterstroke.. definitively immigrants choke
Poke meeker critics who spoke & weaker skeptics who croak
Cynics cast asunder by the bespoke thunder they evoke
Stoke the pariah fires as entire empires they revoke
Entire dire elite liar denier cheat quagmire is a complete joke
Which's why broken folk have a smoke.. become a token soak
Smooth what's wrong with a line of coke.. or bong to toke
Because not being woke.. the system or cistern is broke!
Farmer's Market mornings a parade of colourful awnings
Day dawning.. folks with a basket just awoke still yawning
Blokes fawning over what bespoke stalls are spawning
Queues peruse.. muse.. stroke & choose without warning
Arable fables & orchard parables the tables are adorning
children without any questions ~ are possibly heavenly bespoke
parents with all the answers ~ very likely gave the angelic cloak
By
David Kavanagh
Unshaped by parental care,
He rose, a phoenix, beyond compare.
Life's struggles molded him with might,
Resolute, he faced each endless night.
Education's flame burned bright and true,
His passion, a beacon, shining through.
Menial jobs couldn't dim his stride,
Determination drove him, side by side.
Sugar Boy, a graduate, proud, with degree in hand,
His struggles faded, like shifting sand.
Employment beckoned, a new dawn broke,
His future bright, no longer bespoke.
Love arrived, "My Dear" from Adeboye's line,
A skilled gem, naturally divine.
Together they stood, a unified force,
"The Sugar" boy, with a loving course.
With harmony, their bond took flight,
Blessed with children, shining light.
"My Dear" explored the world's vast stage,
The UK, and beyond, their footsteps engage.
Now the world lies at their feet,
A testament to love's sweet treat.
Their journey, a tale of trials and might,
A shining story, in morning light.
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