Best Bonhomie Poems
I am a stranger in an alien land,
Always searching for eternal youth,
Controlled by an aristocracy with
Little time for honesty and truth.
The food banks are booming
Hardly a state of joy and glory
As the world prepares to celebrate
That age old Nativity Story.
A season of conspicuous Consumption,
A time of reflection and celebration
Or a time of struggles to survive for
A growing proportion of our nation.
Being black, unemployed or sick
Nowadays the modern day sin
As the homeless sleep rough and
Scavenge from the waste food bin.
The privileged will celebrate
The Holy Virgin Birth
And turn a blind eye to
The fast warming earth
The sick will die untreated in
The growing A and E queue
Only the thickness of a payslip
Stops that being me or you.
All over this rich nation
The comfortable will give thanks
And turn a seasonal blind eye
To queues at the food banks.
The Sovereign from the palace
Will give the annual address
Closely watched and monitored
By the billionaire owned free press.
The Sally Army Christmas, kitchen
Will feed some of the masses
And so another year of repression,
With false bonhomie, slowly passes.
I become more and more an alien
In this my own native born land
My world has changed completely
To one I can no longer understand.
Join in jovially for our jamboree.
Unpleasant thoughts – just toss them away!
Become your best self, and have bonhomie.
Ill will, be gone. We won’t have that today.
Leave cares behind; do not hesitate.
Arise! Come with us, and join our throng.
Now is the time. Don’t make us all wait!
Thrill to the music of our gleeful song.
Joy for evermore. . . could it ever come true?
Obliterate negatives. That we must do.
Yell Yippee Ki Yay; let your happy shine through!
Jan. 6, 2019 for the Jubilant Joy Poetry Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck,
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck,
Blocking all the streets
In the centre of town,
To all intents and purposes
Closing the city down.
The police were very tolerant,
Withdrawing their attack
After more than one officer suffered
From a wielded walking stick's whack.
The atmosphere changed
Soon after that
Lots of bonhomie
Banter and chit chat.
The action was called offi
Promptly at five to three
Thus allowing each
To be home in time for tea.
The action wasn't called
For any cause or good:
No it was carried out
Just to show they could.
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck.
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck.
Kindheartedness is being quite generous
A considerate attitude that is from the inside
No price tag is placed on being accommodating
Being benevolent and affectionate is cordial
Willing to give everything for nothing in return.
A trait that is not always an inherited tendency
One to be heartily imbibed and truly developed
A behaviour that stands one out in the crowd
Exhibiting true amiable and amicable qualities
Portraying brotherly,sisterly,fatherly & motherly love.
When you are humane and quite propitious
They say you are beneficient and philanthropic
When you are soft-hearted or tender-hearted
They talk of you as being thoughtful & understanding
You are a bounteous bonhomie & benign personality.
Exuding a calid courteous and altrustic aura
Places you on a pedestal different from others
Extraneous factors may want to impede on you
The propensity of your kindheartedness surpasses
Showcasing your nature as an outstanding being.
THE GIFT OF LOVE
I know that life is agleam.
Incandescent is the word used.
You are from the time of little people.
You empower to keep the peace.
No one can define the world quite like you.
You are a universal guru.
Consequently, I want to contribute to your happiness.
Subsequently, I will give poetry.
This is the gift of love.
May be small but real
Not just something boxed to give.
This is a comforter when you down and out.
You asked me for something unique
Therefore, I will give meaningfulness.
Bringing in the New Year, a smile is worth seeing.
The roaring of joviality is a blessing to hear.
You had your confrontations and you resolved conflicts.
Today spirit is fulfilled.
Oh, merry bonhomie
A feeling so blistering - so intense
Your heart is full of joy friend.
As a result, your happiness must continue.
This is the year humongous
Pop the cava and let’s party.
Perpetuating things to come
Accordingly, exhilaration
Oh, merry sylph
This is going to be a life worth living.
|_____________________________|
Penned on November 28, 2014!
It’s an old story.
We were classmates, you and I,
And later became colleagues,
Working under the same roof.
We had more or less the same specialization.
Married in the same year.
Our children went to the same school.
So far so good!
Now the plot thickens, so to speak!
Once, if you remember,
The boss comes to you for help,
Specifically for helping his sibling
By doing her assignments,
Given to her by a (prestigious) university
Where you and I studied
And where I am a Tutor now—
A concurrent position held by me.
If I were you, I would say:
“Sorry, it’s unethical.”
Or, would tactfully excuse myself—
Maybe by telling a white lie.
Instead, you tell him a blatant lie:
“I’m not hot on the subject, I’m afraid.”
And you go further
And out of the way to add:
“But so and so is. He can help you, I’m sure.”
The boss comes to me straight,
And beating about the bush, tells me:
“Now that so and so is not hot on the subject…blah blah.
Now it is a Catch-22,
Which you have contrived:
If I say yes, I would be exposed
And if I say no, I would be in trouble—with the boss;
There would be no more bonhomie
Between the boss and the boy.
How clever you are!
Furious, I choose to say no—bluntly
And let me face the music.
But now I know that
You are a round character after all,
And an Iago at that.
I appreciate your motiveless malignity.
I shrug my shoulders and mutter:
“Let it be!”
Composed and posted on August 3, 2017
Cassius Clay
A heavy Weight Champion
Who punched his way
Through barriers of colour
With blows of a kind Heart...
He floated like a Butterfly
Yet, stung like a Bee
A Heavy Weight Champion
With a light weight Heart!
Epitome of bonhomie
Who tamed his angry Soul
By the Light of Faith
Re-directing throe
With fury to his Foe.
Despite adversity of Birth
Trained to taper his temper
Sheathing hard-knock fist-
Boxer of amity and Love-
Inside a comfy glove!
*
Boxing is a recondite bodily Art
From the soft side of man’s Heart!
When he pours his sturdy arm
I perceive Art and not harm...
Floating quick and so ethereal
Dexterity invokes scenes surreal!
When Foe hits the canvas at last
Shall he forever be an outcast?
Victor must stand up and muse:
“For One to Win, One must lose
“Ignore then face turned blue
“For I must celebrate with you
“You fell down as my boxing Foe
“Rise up a Friend for a cup of joe!
“You’ve lost in the boxing ring
“You won being my Friend my King!”
*
Honoured be they that can compete
Our mirth they do totally replete,
A symbol of sacrifice holy and pure
As Pain and patience they do endure!
The World is now just one Village
Meant for amity and not for pillage
Sports direct how we affably relate
By accord not by how we dictate!
Fight the World, fight with the mind
Sheath your blows protect the rind
The World needs Love’s agile blows
Blows of Faith Cassius best knows!
*
Fight with facts, fight with vim
Fight the Devil with solemn hymn
Don’t fight with greed or fight with whim
But fill the Cup to the brim!
*
Endure the sting
and earn your honey
Endure the blow
to earn your money
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting!
Cassius Clay
Man O’ th’ Day!
*Dedicated to those who fight with Peace and for Peace. The World is a Village and we’re Family!
JM
17th Oct’ 2013
Godfather
A rigid neck that looks forward without turning
Till the face is flat pummelled by angry elements
Whose twinkly eyes neither blink nor steal a hood
In case, in a split second, humanity is left insecure.
Whose time to eat is not on his busy schedule-
Morsel may briefly quieten voice to teach Piety.
Would I, therefore, find any fault with that stoicism
Or in his static quick march- marching at a halt
(Until there is a hole enough to ooze a cool pat!)
His momentary reprieve; gone to some chores
Might subject the brood to threat unthinkable.
For his perpetual presence and open guidance
Is as assuring the billboard pointing the Way!
Dr. Ram Mehta, Billboard in the wet, cold rain
Who holds post to, once again, direct others
Soaked by the cold rain, yet with a heart satisfied
For the Duty to save others and not save yourself!
Should, godfather, a blink you chance or steal
Cares of this World may, by stealth, quietly visit
And warp our convictions with wicked murmurs
Murmurs that drip honey which sips into hearts
Turning us into a heap of salt for looking backwards!
My eyes I do pledge to look no any other direction
Except to the way by your long finger is pointed
And, to fawn on the Spirit that nurtured you this long
With bonhomie, discernment and poetic prowess!
Prayer with no end I utter beseeching, godfather,
On that Day, to inherit the Sceptre you’re holding!
***Dedication to one and only Dr. Ram Mehta for the invaluable guidance his sublime poems bestow.
JM
24th Nov’ 2013
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 13
The State’s then some kind of delirious Monster
Heartless It changes its head from time to time
Ultimate machine waging wars forever
Emits bizarre noises most smooth or clever
Through mouth-pieces that spin words sans sense nor rhyme
The State’s then some kind of delirious Monster
Drops never to sleep for fear of the neighbour
Has its eyes and ears peeled open all the time
Ultimate machine waging wars forever
Devoirs people kept under threat of hunger
Deprives them of human rights and over-time
The State’s then some kind of delirious Monster
Drives the sick into secret service gutter
Who then justify wars and villainous crime
Ultimate machine waging wars forever
Loves to strut on World Stage bonhomie player
While backstage lights the fuse Guy Fawkes failed to prime
The State’s then some kind of delirious Monster
Ultimate machine waging wars forever
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Grand Ma
Depending on a day’s mood-
Grand Ma my mind recalls;
Saint or Devil in the wood
For fast writ on the walls!!!
Ah! Lovely Devil was she
She’d catch you up the tree
Or acted a wise witty witch
Fishing you out of the ditch!
“This hand your mum it trained
“Would I then be restrained
“Or to failure my head nod
“In decadence while you plod!?”
***
All the relentless rigour
Adult me I recall with vigour
It was meant with love
Not game of the grisly grove!
Palms rough and cracked
Castor oil she gently smacked
Sores on my supple back
To sooth clean and black!
Brewer unpaid and at home
Just for the lust of bonhomie
(How I burned my thirsty lips
With harsh stolen brew sips!)
Traditional dance drummer
Hands hard as the hammer
Tanning the dry cow leather
Throughout the night weather!
Indeed, they fell in a trance
Those in a frenzied prance
Then, for home I’d escape
In the pitch black landscape!
Grand Ma had ragged raiment
Yet healed every bad ailment
Was I to revile her mood,
Study of Science in the wood?
Surprise of it all was her age
When she took the passage....
With her teeth sound intact
And Memory quite compact!
***
My Dad would obsequies
While Mum paid courtesies
To the bygone lady of yore
Who knew no gospel before.
Send-off without drums
No shakes of drunken bums
No brew, no castor oil
No coffin, body; wrapped coil!
“Let her possessed spirit rest
“Don’t let Demons manifest
“Should for her you mourn
“Her spirit will not sojourn!”
Ah! I ate, slept beside granny
Never felt a feeling funny.
Was I with demons in contact
Yet, am still sound and intact?
Whether demons or seraph
This is to her a cenotaph:
You had a scant body hood
Yet, rich in gen of the wood.
My very life’s heartbeat
Resonates with that drum beat,
As I recall the sprite massage
And pray to pass at your age!
JM
05th December 2013
Auf Wiedersehn
Well here at last it's party time,in shorts and dirndl dress.
Excitedly we travelled to the fest, a night of pleasure lay ahead.
We knew from past experience, don't quaff, just savour beers.
Imbibing Munichs drinks too fast, could mar the atmosphere.
Laughter brings bonhomie, as old and new friends speak.
Let's raise our beer steins in a toast.for now the show begins.
People waving, singing loudly, while rocking to the beat.
And all around the milling crowds, now dancing in the streets.
Revelry with devilry, as young boys whistle, girls in short skirts coyly blushing.
Talking heads surround our table, animated arms translating.
Yesterday a bunch of strangers, today as friends sharing together.
Listen to the sound of lilting voices, melodies from different tongues.
Inviting us each night to join them, mixing beers and singing songs.
Kindred spirits everyone, together dancing on the benches.
Enjoying each and every moment, with an ice cold stein of beer.
Trying tasty tendeloin of pork, delicious with sweet mustard crust.
Ham wrapped-figs and hazelnuts, with drinks of cool spring bottled water.
Each time the band strikes up-Ein Prosit, all and sundry stands to toast.
Rebel rousing, crowds carousing, dancers dirndl skirts are swirling.
Entertaining energetic, party poopers paralytic.
Stomping feet and clapping hands, embarrassing each waitress serving beer.
No one even seems to care,they carry on with gay abandon.
Overacting then distracting, when outside and breathe fresh air.
Time to eat potato pancakes,refreshed by water keeping sober.
Once more, let's party, here we go, prancing to an oom-pah band.
Musicians wearing lederhosen, people stomping feet and slapping thighs.
Oktober Fest in frenzied celebration, cavorting couples holding hands.
Running wildly round each table, urging all to take the floor.
Rejuvenated, rock and rollers, overcoming mixed emotions.
Once more before auf wiedersehn, let's dance the night away, and
We will party like there's no tomorrow.
11 / 5 / 2016.
Such sunlight shining down on me. . . .
No clouds above, like dungaree,
hung dully, shielding everyone
from beaming grins of Mr. Sun,
who graces us with bonhomie!
Some folks might seek a shady tree
or others go inside to be
less hot, but I’m not one to shun
such sunlight.
Although there is no guarantee
that gloom will not eventually
descend to spoil my friend Sun’s fun,
before his brilliant show is done,
I'll stay here in my revelry.
Such sunlight!
Like a meteorite streaking
through the sky, iron
and nickel, for a proxy collision
with hidden destiny.
It was the post trauma
syndrome, after the great
divide of breast, lifting
the nipples.
The lofty peak crumbles.
There will be the scare
around, to grow the poppies
on the mounds again.
Are you ready now
for emasculation ? The
legacy will, on its own, pass
onto alternative sins.
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Penny is in people's Mind,
Which makes them unkind.
A world bereft of penny,
Would be the genesis of bonhomie.
Then, the souls would do what they are supposed to do,
Stretch their hands to atone without much ado.
To reckon the very purpose of existence that God entitled us with,
Penny will say, I am just a myth.
Penny is in people's Mind,
Which makes them unkind.