Best Bails Poems
A Blanket of deception tightly coils the minds of most,
Unless you are enraptured by the Holy Ghost.
Pockets of disaster
Echo in their ears
Bondage comes through doubt, unbelief and fear.
Droplets of truth,
Make up one big ocean of lies
While injections of a suddenly
Keep most at stand by.
What will you do when the system fails?
When everything you’re banking on bails
What will you do when the pain outweighs the fun?
When calamity hits you
And there is nowhere to run.
Dreams are in the pavement
Your Security is in the breeze
Your only hope for survival
Will require you on your knees.
Self-righteous pursuits
Mindless endeavors
Not once did you question
Where your soul will rest in Forever.
Bought into the fallacy
That this life is actually reality
Driven by a system set on fire
Hailing a Father whose name means liar.
Your enlightenment is an imitation
He is one of God’s creations
Stringing you along for his own stimulation.
While you’re puffed up in your attire
He’s laughing at what you have allowed to transpire.
Lust for more
Opened that door
I would think twice about what he really has in store.
For the hour is just about here
And you grin thinking you got nothing to fear
Oh, foolish generation
You’re a product of vile manipulation
Blinded by the masses
I pray to God you grasp this
What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world
Then loses his only soul
you know it’s an eternal black hole?
All your intelligence made you quite dumb
You lost sight of the truth for a temporary lump sum
If your breathing there is still time
But most have a reprobate mind
The consequences for their iniquity
May cost them their everlasting victory.
By: Sabina Nicole
The county seat, a place of humidity and musical beats.
After many years, I decided to revisit my hometown,
Hoping to walk down memory lanes of warm treats, To visit my oldest brother and old friends still around.
Known by many as the birthplace of the blues.
It’s where my folks purchased my first pair of shoes.
Where I first experienced talking from a phone booth.
Where I watched my first movie on the big screen;
Where I experienced my first barbershop;
Where I received my first real job;
Where I ate at my first restaurant.
Thirty years ago, I moved 2,000 miles away.
A popular street corner, fourth & Issaquena.
Cotton gins and cotton bails.
Yes, cotton was crowned king.
There was only room for one king and one throne.
And the ruler ship of queens was virtually unknown.
There were the king and the cash; and if there were queens, they would be beneath the king and his cash, and nowhere in between.
I tell you, everything and everyone bowed to king cotton, even queens.
06262015 cj
Unquotable quotes (More Cricketing Jargon) – IV
A « wide » is a ball aimed by the bowler at some absent-
minded fielder.
The « silly-point » is the fielding position so close to the
batsman that the captain forces his rival to occupy at
the risk of receiving balls on the head, solar plexus
and balls hit at over 300 m.p.h.
An « inswinger » is a bowled ball which changes course
in mid-air and gets round the batsman to nick the
bails.
An « outswinger » is a bowled ball which the batsman
thought he connected for a six but which merely
nicked his bat to reach the safe first-slip’s hands.
A « run-out » is given when batsmen running between
wickets wish to get back to the pavillion in a hurry.
To get « one’s eyes in » is to see cricket balls the size of
foot-balls.
A « partnership » in batting occurs when one batsman
does all the stroke-playing while the other hurls abuse
and advise on him.
The « night-watchmen » are batsmen sent in with
blankets to keep the pitch warm at the end of the day.
The « opening batsmen » always take their own sweet
time between the pavillion until their crease rituals.
The « one down » is the batsman who makes the ground
look like an empty billiard table.
The « top scorer » is not the cousin of the official scorer.
« Clean bowled » happens when the batsman is looking
at a blonde in the pavillion.
« Hit wicket » usually occurs when tall batsmen choose
long-handle bats for their centuries.
« Leather-hunt » takes place when one ball takes to
visiting all corners of the field in quick succession.
A century or two could very well take just half-a-day
these days.
The « hat-trick » always occurs when the umpire is
dozing after lunch.
« Good shot » means no one has dared put a hand out to
stop the ball.
« Medium-paced bowlers » are fast bowlers who have
been hit once too often out of the ground.
The « leg pull » always catches the leg and mid-field
talking to one another.
The last batsman always takes a wild swing at the first
ball in the hope that it would land on the captain’s
head.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Unquotable quotes – II
Spare the rod and knife the wife.
Empty drums make the most deaf wise.
Penny wise Pound English.
The Polyester Stomper heals the vain woman’s heel.
Eat what you can but can what doctors ban.
Let the water tap run but drain rain.
The woman, the dog and the chestnut tree, the more
you beat them the harder the bark.
Let sleeping dogs neigh.
It never rains but indoors.
Honesty is the best example of idiocy.
Two’s company, three’s a broad.
Make hay while the son wines.
There’s no smoke without liars.
Don’t count plots before they are hatched.
Preach not what you can enjoy in peace.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a truth.
Parting makes much sweet sour.
A round peg in a square soul.
Rule Brittania, Britannia rules the knaves.
Able was I as I saw(ed) Abel.
It’s a Rolling Stone that makes a fuss.
Those who tighten belts don’t wear sarongs.
The high and mighty always suck with the flighty.
What’s good for Peter is good for the Church.
The haiku is the silly bugger of the tanka.
The baker’s dozen helps keep the poor cousin.
Cricketing jargon
The no ball is the cricket’s late call.
The boundary is the sixer’s mockery.
The wicket keeper bails batsmen out.
The googly makes batsmen squint through patchouli.
A leg bye makes the batsman somewhat shy.
The leg-before-wicket is when the batsman kicks-the-
bucket.
The dropped-catch can be the slip’s last match.
The leg glance is a missed forward drive.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Kids are excited to wake up and discover there's no school, it's a snow day
They look out the window and see a beautiful blanket of white, but it's not outside they wish to play
They want to stay glued to television or with their head buried in a video game
When did playing outside apparently in their words become so incredibly lame?
We live in a society filled with too many gosh darn electronics
Kids are walking with heads down zoned into phones or tablets acting more and more robotic
We need to get them outside and show them how we did it back in our day
Show them how much fun it can be to play king of the mountain on a snow covered stack of bails of hay
The thought of them laying around in bed wasting the day away drowning us out with headphones is too much to bare
Whatever happened to making a snowman or snow angel without a single care?
There's too much beauty within each snowflake to stay inside behind a closed door
Get your kids out in nature and show them all there is to explore
Take them skiing, sledding, snowboarding,ice fishing, or have a snowball fight
Whatever you choose to do just help them view winter and nature in a whole new light
If it's still too cold to go outside even after bundling up in layers then perhaps read them a story
Make some art and craft projects or play a card or board game in all of their glory
Life depends entirely too much on electronics and for our children's futures I worry
We need to take the time to show them there's so much more to life and as far as growing up not to be in such a hurry
Snow days aren't what they once were, that's for sure without a doubt
We need to remind ourselves and our kids what a snow day should really be about
This is the Cannabis song,
they've turned something good.
made is seem wrong,
It's illegal why?
Come on politics,
don't be shy
So many uses for this wonder drug,
Wonderful for clothing and sometimes rugs,
Fords model T car was built from hemp- the very best,
Mayflower sails were too they passed the test,
1619 Jamestown settlers had to grow the crop,
It's absorbent fibers make the best cleaning mop.
clothing more solid and sturdy,
Eco-friendly for the fish and birdies,
replenishes soil with nutrients it once dropped,
known as the most efficient rotational crop,
artists for many years used the oil as paint,
use hemp money to pay for that date,
hemp oil could end the gas crisis,
Piss off Shell, Chevron, they don't like surprises,
Lets not forget the physical effects,
One of the best ways to let your body rest,
ointments for sore muscles and lotions for skin,
once it's ingested, ooh feels like a wonderful sin,
The many Cannabinoids help with cancer,
better than chemo not guaranteed to end the disaster,
Certain strains provide mellow for those with epilepsy,
imagine being the kid who just cant sleep,
take a dose once or twice a day,
they now see the sun's shiny rays,
Cant leave out the repair of brain cells,
the ones that alcohol beats up then bails
Why is it illegal you ask?
Politics wear the greatest masks,
Constantly paid off by corporate interests,
Wanted monopolies to bring them pocket book bliss,
Pharmaceuticals, DuPont, Randal Hearst, now Alcohol,
Couldn't stand the competition this “drug” brings at all,
To ensure the public wouldn't be informed,
Made GOV medical testing illegal and provided propaganda ****
So many other details,
but this must end sometime.
For some great information on cannabis
visit the http://NORML.org website
Limerick : Once a Privy Counsellor at Lord’s
Once a Privy Counsellor at Lord’s*
Watched a bowler* throw balls like gourds
Convened judicial com.*
Summoned bowler to come
And sentenced him to eat bitter gourds.
Lord’s : The Mecca of cricket grounds in London
where the Marylebone Cricket Club has
its seat.
bowler : The player who lances the ball at the
batsman ; yet during the act the elbow
must not be bent – at the risk of being
called by the Umpire a « no ball « , that is,
even if the ball hits the wickets and the
bails are dislodged, the batsman is not
given « out.».
*Judicial Com(mittee) of the Privy Council, the highest
Court of Appeal in England (and the former
British territories) until the Supreme
Court was set up in 2010 to hear some appeals.
The Privy Counsellor/Councillor
is a Member of the House of Lords and a judge.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Its time to think out loud America Think about no meals on wheels for the elderly Think about cancer patients being cut lose to die Think about our children's education being turned into a Lottery Its time to think out loud America Think about going to one war after another Think about our leaders need for greed
Think about who pays and who plays Its time to think out loud America Think about who bails out the banks Think about who picks up the tax break for big oil Think about who makes up the short fall for the tax dodgers Its time to think out loud America Think about the majority rule and how the millionaires in Congress Changed the rules Think about the tax payers after they pay for the wars and the rebuilding projects Think about social security being cut back And disabled vets pensions being cut back And ask yourself If you've had enough! And if you have...... It's time think out loud
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime.
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. wiki leaks,
google maps, g.mails, the Xbox play and i.phone
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. we all tweet,
the news and thoughts, sitting in cozy office and a coffee
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. the bails outs,
the stock markets and the emergency meetings
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. it will spin on
its axis, same markets of iraq and karachi, & afghans
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Same
complains conspiracies theories and blame game
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Constructions,
accusations, malls and shopping festivals
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime. Traffic jams,
blackberry messaging, office reporting and bills
when the world wakes up tomorrow, nothing will change, not a dime.
The Old Red Barn
I look out over the field laid out before me,
The smell of fresh cut grass and dirt fill my senses.
A white fence is running laps around the field
while the round bails of hay wait to be collected.
As I lean against the fence looking at the scene before me
I see the rolling hills like waves of green so bright I have to squint.
Trees are scattered along the landscape like spots on a Dalmatian
while creating the perfect shade for the exhausted livestock.
Off in the distance I can see a deer walking across the field
noticing each movement as it stops to feed.
The old red barn stands alone matching the beauty around it
reminding everyone that passes the beauty that comes with age.
The scene before me is a constant reminder of the changing of time
in a fast past world there will always be the memory of the old red barn to slow things down.
Form:
They're moving up closer from the fields of clover.
Dog circles around behind.
Making sure they head for the milking shed,
like they do every milking time.
Standing out of the mud, chewing their cud,
holding their heads down low -
turning up the beat on the ABC;
boot scootin' boogie comes alive on the radio.
The cows started prancing; they're all line dancing,
Back and forward across the pen.
There in the bails they're all swinging their tails,
goose stepping now and then.
The flies on the wall are beginning to crawl,
moving from left to right.
Dog rolled on the floor; he's clapping his paws.
The milking shed's beating in country time.
The music's played over; back to dreaming of clover,
with calming classical music but then,
someone made a mistake - what an error to make.
They're playing boot scootin' boogie again.
The cows started prancing; they're all line dancing,
Back and forward across the pen.
There in the bails they're all swinging their tails,
goose stepping now and then.
The flies on the wall are beginning to crawl,
moving from left to right.
Dog rolled on the floor; he's clapping his paws.
The milking shed's beating in country time.
The milking shed's beating in country time.
The milking shed's beating in country time.
No illegal search and seizure
Says amendment Number Four
Probable cause necessary
Before we break down your door.
The warrant spells out what they search,
Describing things they will seize.
So hide them where you know they won’t
Go to the judge, and say, “Please.”
Number Five’s an uncommon gem
It says we won’t take your life
Without due process of the law,
Or by talking to your wife.
Testimony from yourself, and
Oh, yeah, double jeopardy,
Will never be responsible
For removing liberty.
We will not take your property
For a bridge or a highway.
Not without compensating you
But, please, stay out of the way.
We’ll never pay you what it’s worth,
Nor what the market will bear.
We shall pay you what we think’s right
And so what if it’s not fair?
So now we come to Number Six:
Speedy trial for you and me.
Impartial juries we will have
‘Less the press first runs the story.
We will inform you of the crime
They think you have committed.
And let you confront eyewitness
And a lawyer, not dim witted.
So here we are, now at Seven,
But this one’s kind of dicey.
It’s about the common law,
And the cost of controversy.
The courts have set some precedents
From the beginning to this year
So put this one from your mind, but
Don’t let lawyers know your fear.
Punishment cruel, or excessive
Is listed in Number Eight.
High bails and fines not imposed
Except in a crime of hate.
This allows a sentence of death
When combined with Number Five.
So, while stoning is a no, no.
Injection can take your life.
The rights for you, herein displayed
Shall not be the only item.
Number Nine says it right clear
Other rights are not denied ‘em.
This simply means, to you and me,
We’re somewhat free, to a point.
Beware of our society
For they say no to that joint.
This now brings us to Number Ten
About powers left on the rack.
If it’s not stated by this doc
States, and people, take up the slack.
The constitution delegates
Power to the three branches.
But if they overstep these bounds
Beware election chances.
A grandmother often plays one of the most important roles in a child's life.
My grandma was born way out in the Northumberland Strait.
Born and raised in a place called Pictou Island; just part of the vast Canadian lands.
She had a large family full of love & laughter, sometimes heartache.
Grandma's my special friend that I see each day.
Sometimes we like to sit and talk about life.
She always takes the time to show me that she loves me.
I sure am glad that God gave me my Grandma!
I love her so!
She's been showing me how to be lady like and all that proper junk.
Round 'bout nine years now, I've been learning table manners & how to be a lady.
Grandma really is special; don't know how I'd live without her.
She bails my butte out when I can't cook lunch or when I rip my clothes.
Though, Grandma tries to tan my hide when I act like I live on tobacco road; wearing my ripped clothes & cussing like an old cur dog.
She has a way to chase my blues away and make the sunshine come again.
Sometimes, I get crazy & act like a hyena, she's always there to calm me right down.
Grandma is heaven sent and an absolute angel.
Yep, God couldn't be everywhere at once so he created Grandmother's.
RIP Grandma Pinski (1/2008)
On a beautiful June morning very early we made our way down to the fields,
The men had scythes to ring in all the bustle for the annual hay harvests,
We were a merry bunch and we stripped down to the waist in sunburnt groups,
At close of day we sat down in the deep cool grass of a hidden shady valley.
A cool stream clear as glass the shadows on the stream rippled and danced,
The shadows reflected circles of light on the stony bottom, a perfect day,
On the small bank an azure crowfoot waves to you in an evening light breeze,
The purple comfrey goes one better and dips its leaves in the crystal spring.
Hanging over the babbling stream branches droop over weighed by chestnuts,
We pick gooseberries, currants, ripe strawberries as the month slips away,
The cuckoo's departs and as a dark tinge of evening comes, glow worms glow,
We walk to our homes happy and tired over sweet bails of hay, lovely days.
Part Two
Do you remember your run-up to the crease
your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots
your anger
at the wicket that went on a no-ball
Do you remember your opening bat
that snicked the runs to leg and off
which dozing umpires signalled as byes from pads
Do you remember Brigitte
her perky bobtail
her boucles of prancing hair
lances on her forehead
sickles on her verti-vir-ginous temples
Where are the bridges you have crossed
and those you had planned
and those you saw grow pebble by pylon and cementing stone
where the roads you laid
up virgin forest and limestone
Where indeed the buildings you repaired
erected
re-erected and razed
and the thousands and thousands of miles
you rode the wild seladang of the primeval jungle
hand on hump
with no stars in the paly night to guide you
through venomous blukar
and the boiling green torture
seared deep into your burning entrails
these that now have run out on you
Watch now how the river glues under your fuming stare
when the monsoon torrents sweep the knock-knee-ed pylons to a side
those dry as split-bark legs of yours
itching once too often in comforting company
though a little spindly for a Pied Piper
Yet you made the puppety Peninsula run
down drains and monsoon pipes
to a purge-full sea
Who is there now who wouldn't wake to your fits of irrupting gurgly merriment
to ease the tension
amongst unlikely fellows
Who who wouldn't miss your seething whiteheat glee
at his side
You who knew how to accompany Kay and Richard
up to the closed door of your last night
a very good night on your lips
Your opening bat's duty done
the side shored-up in safekeeping
the last fast breathless ball you faced
nicking the bails off
You needn't return to the pavilion
for the standing ovation goes on
for you Bala
long after the cloddy-stumps lie slain on the tiled floor
© T.Wignesan 1993 August 8, 1993 - Paris [from the collection: back to background material, 1993]