Best Brill Poems
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
(enjoy the puns)
I happen to be a busy bee
always racing with time
since time how it flies for busy bees
Ah wish I could just lasso it
like a cowboy does his horse
and thereby bring it to a standstill!
And if I don't waste this valuable Time
I think I could buy me some extra time
For time is money it's said
Ah wish I could just catch it
in a nook or a noose
as it flies by at will.
For at this rate the clock is ticking by
like some never exploding time-bomb
while I'm forever running out of time
so I wonder then how still
others just take their time
or be killing time coz they've time to kill!
For I can't be killing this precious time
I don't have any spare time on my hands
And it is but challenging to make a chum
out of that swinging pendulum
Time is racing, it's outpacing
For me it seems time has never stood still.
Thus I'll merely have to resign to the fact
that I could never ever tie down mr. Time
for time and tide have waited for none
It's never going to cease, that monotonous chime
even when ceases to pen, a poet's quill
If the battery in thy clock stops
other clocks would be working timely still
So if you lag behind and don't make it in time
you can be sure there are others who will.
So I better let my time-old
venerable grandfather clock
go on with its carefree
dutiful but devil-may-care tick tock
Yah, let the time do the talk
and still tell it it's simply brill!
Lenny was 30 and still living with his old cheese, everyone called, Lenny’s mum.
She was always on his Cadbury Snack to go find a trouble and strife for a chum.
“Geez, leave off mum, I’ve been looking down at the Punchbowl rubbity Dub”.
“Well Lenny, go to the grab a granny at the Rissole, Fridý night will ya luv”.
Friday came, Lenny put on his best bag of fruit and fired up his old VS Dunny Door.
With his pay in his sky rocket as he hit the frog and toad with the peddle to the floor.
Mum put some of dad’s old brill cream in his Fred Astaire before he left the house.
“Be good Lenny, me little china plate, if ya need a lift home give me a Wally Grout”.
Jenny was on the rock ‘n’ roll so she saved up her oxford scholars for a big night out.
She wasn’t flash to look at, with her bifocal monkey’s arses but she had a good jam tart.
She walked into the Rissole, tilting her leg as she let rip a decent Royce Hart.
Her dad would’ve said, “A bit more choke and it would’ve made you start”.
Jenny met Lenny at the near ‘n far, knowing he was giving her the old Captain Cook.
Introductions made and Lenny thought she was a bit of alright, as he had a second look.
They hit it off after Jenny’s Third vodka and Lenny’s fifth schooner of pigs ear.
Feasting on bar snacks of party dogs eyes, Jenny dripping the dead horse in Lenny’s beer.
A couple of young blokes walk up to Jenny and tried to give her Reg Grundies a flick.
Jenny started throwing cut lunches, smashing him on the Lionel Rose, then gave him a kick.
Lenny intervened, saying, “We don’t want any froth and bubble.” Before thing got nasty.
He took Jenny outside screaming, “He’s got a face like a half eaten pasty”.
And that’s how Lenny and Jenny met, Lenny’s mum was happy seeing Lenny with stars in his mud pies.
They got cash ‘n carried, had a couple of billy lids, that loved to eat burgers and fries.
It’s not at all romantic, but that’s how most Aussie love stories go.
Lenny and Jenny together forever, They’re mates most of us will know.
Summertime, summertime, summertime bop
Come why not to the summertime hop
Movin’ n’ groovin’ dancers everywhere
Wearing flowers in their hair.
Summertime, summertime, summertime bop
Boppin’ around the clock till one drops
Swingin’ and swayin’ havin’ a great time
Until midnight chimes.
For young hearts it’s a brill time
To bop away all day
Summertime’s a dreamtime
For gathering friends along the way.
Boy meets girl and girl meets boy
As billowin’ breeze blows
Romance fills the air
As the summertime flows.
On your feet, to the beat, dance in the street
Give it all you have got
Rotate those hips, do the jive and the twist
Maybe try a fox trot.
For that’s summertime
Yes that’s summertime
That’s the summertime bop.
There was a new potato that had just been harvest born
On opening his eyes a rooster crowed its horn.
He had grown rather quickly and grown rather strong
But that's when his feelings started to feel wrong.
Mr Potato had noticed he was feeling very sad
Sometimes it felt like, he was going slowly mad.
He was feeling confused and didn't understand why
Deep down he felt rotten, he just wanted to cry.
He discovered a big chip on his little shoulder
That grew too heavy to carry as he got older.
Then there was the urge to pound and to mash
That got quiet messy but made a tasty hash.
He gave a brill roasting when he felt mad
That was either good or extremely bad.
On the days he was fine he felt chirpy and crisp
Those were the days he fancied going for a dip.
When it was too hot he felt rather boiled
And when it was cooler he liked to feel the cold.
His skin went more brown when he got baked
His spud-kini gave him wedges - for goodness sake!
Mother Nature felt sorrow for this confused spud
So she sent a gentle breeze that felt like a hug.
It was important he knew, he is valued so much
He smiled and listened when he felt her soft touch.
"These feelings that you feel are normal you see,
For you are a potato these feelings come naturally.
Your loved by so many and desired too
Your the stable in diets and great in a stew".
"Your the star at every vegan, society social bash
In soups an as a bread, your the main in creamy mash.
Your the star on the topping of a shepherds pie
Your famous world over, a very popular guy."
"You feed so many people, the rich and the poor
Your popular and wanted, it's you they adore.
You come from a large family of sisters and brothers
You have royal connections you will discover."
"The farmers will feed you and keep you warm
Your important to millions you have texture and great form.
King Edward and Charlotte, Maris Piper, Desiree
These are just a few from your large family tree."
He felt happy to know that he had a purpose
And easy to grow and there was even some surplus.
Feeding so many, especially the poor
He was now ready, to go through the kitchen door.
08.09.23
"Calamus gladio fortior"
O noble scribe hand me your quill
I will sharpen it for you with my wit and brill’
For in truth it is your real sword grows large and mighty with every word
Joust not with me surround yourself with my noble stalwart gallantry
Thee will find dark and light joie de vivre
between the weeds and daisies armour comes off freely
En garde walk the Road with courage and dignity
For we will inspire revolutionary legions together
On our march to
"VICTORY"
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAv4bHtobP0
On some English grass
On a piece of land forever England
Warriors of the realm
Take holy orders, on their Fathers grave
To defend the honour of their local pub
For this is the noble art of Sunday league Football
The crowds bay for blood
Shouts of foul and blind as a bat
The decision absurd
The referee a drunkard
Shouts of bar steward,
And your mothers questionable character
Cleaned up for posterity
The game goes on
Frank, the winger another yellow card
Another fine, I fear he will be barred
Groans for Bill a night watchman by trade
I think he’s a blade (Sheffield United supporter)
But not a very good keeper I’m afraid
Then there’s the striker
Super king Jack, 40 a day and a cough to match
Will need a penalty to score in this match
What about ken, a beer belly full back,
Rarely runs for fear of a heart attack
And slugger the centre half
Likes to break legs,
And still the only guy to sup a half a keg
Smooth talking tommy pulls birds on the six yard line
Greased black hair, and knobbly knees to match
Still Skill is not this team’s forte, for we are Britain’s
Taking part is our religion
Lost another game two nil
But won three two at fighting, brill
Bottom of the league
Fines galore
First Aid in the pub
A good drink after
Enemies in the field, but forever friends in laughter.
That’s Sunday football league
Home to the wife
And Sunday dinner, roast beef and Yorkshire pud
Another bottle of bud
Feet up, settee calls
Dreams of Wembley, and Sheffield Wednesday
Not a bad life for this Yorkshire clan
Here in Sheffield where football began.
The steep steps go down
the winding wash,
along the plodded cobbles
between the cottages
with their smuggling hollows,
their sleet rinsed eaves.
Beyond the scarp
the bay tumbles over
shingle, shale and scree
to a shore and its contesting tide.
Above my flying coat,
the crag huddled village
bobs and floats in a flooding cloud.
I could throw a stick
at the sea here
and the wind, like a dog
would fetch it,
and more will come back,
as if ancient voices
returned to us from the deep.
Now a chopping fray,
squabbles at a brim where
flurries of tern and guillemot
trawl for brill;
a pell-mell of light
roiling on a harrying spray.
Today, I allow myself to fail
here at the surging squall,
and crashing crests;
to lapse and founder -
to be redone under
a gulping spell of myself.
“Gaun an bile yer heid” he bawled oot,
As he stood in the middle o the cobbled street.
Tae nae yin in particular.
Did he vent his anger.
Fu as a whaulk he staggered and swayed
Wan pin rooted tae the graun,
Ither yin moved like a dervish,
Gaun naewhaur fast.
He should of been hame
Wi his wifie and weans
But naw he insisted
Wi a wee refreshment wi his pals.
Jist a hauf an a hauf an a wee blether
Pittin the world tae rights.
But man the craik was brill that nicht
Whit a pity it ended in a fecht.
Nothing though like the fecht
He wid huv when at home.
His wifie stood livid at the door
Tears a dripping ontae the floor
Weans moaning and bawling
Nae dinner again old mans supping fu.
Setterday nicht in Glasga toon
Lying sprawled an fu unner the moon,
©Andrew P McIntyre 2015-05-28.
I scan the horizon as I trounce the arid desert.
Brill trees and a trickling burn shape my stream.
To me, it's as if I'm showing God's entail I querist.
As away as I am aware, it is a magnificent dream.
Perhaps, Lord, late openings are to be unlock.
As well, I will fulfill all your vows around time.
The clay under my feet is starting to awake.
It's all aside You that you've grown grass sublime.
As I stray calmly amid the skylights.
I'll induce firm my deft hand grips Yours tightly.
My faith in You is vital, and I wish to highlights.
And long for the holy avowal of Your majesty.
I owe You, God, your unfathomable grace.
Much obliged for plunging me in your rife.
I may never be skilled to repay Your fairness.
But I'll behold to You till the ending of my life.
As I range You, God, with love, you bestow.
It has given me loftier reliance and ability.
My solitude and aridity will soon vary low.
And the lands and people's illness severity.
I beg You, Heavenly God, to relieve the way.
To strengthen the modest jewels of my soul
Much obliged, Lord, for setting my break day.
A blighted block of my moral being goal.
1ST PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: April 24, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
The steep steps go down
the winding wash,
along the plodded cobbles
between the cottages
with their smuggling hollows,
their sleet rinsed eaves.
Beyond the scarp
the bay tumbles over
shingle, shale, and scree
to a shore and its contesting tide.
Above my flying coat,
the huddled village
bobs and floats in a flooding cloud.
I could throw a stick
at the sea here
and the wind, like a dog
would fetch it,
elemental voices
return from the deep.
Now a chopping fray,
squabbles at a brim where
flurries of tern and guillemot
trawl for brill;
a pell-mell of light
roiling on a harrying spray.
Today, I allow myself to fail
here at the surging squall,
and crashing crests;
to lapse and founder -
to be redone in the one gulp
of self.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This one was written a pretty long time ago,
but recently fiddled with.
I was floating on water deep under the sea
Cold sun rays shone down I felt hot and quivery
A mermaid walked by with different sized legs
The battered dressed cod showed off his new kegs.
A bald octopus so furry, you could not see its eyes
The catfish all gathered and barked in surprise
The crabs running frantic sat perfectly still
Whales groaning their songs, laughed it was brill.
I started to feel well so went to the doctor
His name Davy Jones at top down at the locker
He told me I was dead; I felt so alive
We danced in the moonlight that morning at five.
Written 10th September 2021
For The Nonsense Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Charles Messini
Nut allergy Jill
At last I was alone and my mind stood still
Thinking of a huge green hawk with a rather crooked bill
It was behind the black glass in the house on top of a hill
People thought a witch boiled little children in a cauldron for her fill
Grey smoke from the chimney kept her warm but what fuel was used to keep away the chill
An axe could be seen at the side of the house red as blood and sharp enough to even kill
At night no one dare to step in looking distance near it yet I made a den just for the thrill
There she stood at the door with a broom stick and looked around then stared right at me and said “I’m green eyed Jill”
I panicked and ran but before I could run very far Jill was in front of me saying “are you stupid boy being in these parts for God sakes you must be Ill”
She took me in to her house and sat me down and said “listen little boy I’m hungry” and I quickly said “I’ve got a snickers bar” she said “oh thanks very much that’s just brill”
I watched her eat it in front of me whilst looking I saw that she was starving hungry and very weak and shrill
The old woman looked younger and fitter and not at all frightening like green eyed Jill
She told me that for forty years I have been cursed by a real witch and your gift of food has broken its spell and I said “really” and she said no you stupid bugger now get into the cauldron or I’ll chop your head off with me axe “one born every minute “she said as she threw me into a boiling pot of swill
Then I heard a choking noise coming from the old witch and I jumped out of the pot quickly and before I scarpered she said “I have a nut allergy and I’ll die if I don’t take that pill”
I looked on the table and saw it and said to her “eff off “and I ran home and the next morning I vowed to myself don’t ever be an effing idiot ever again until.
A hip old-timer in Bowling Green
somehow thinks he’s still seventeen
His hair’s Brill Cream slick
He thinks Gidget’s his chic
And he’s sure he’s the next James Dean
2/10/22
It's only half way through year
and summers not been too brill
we think it'll soon be over
our thoughts move over the hill
As the cold winds start coming
then yesterday's sun has gone down
the temperatures will get lower
in the country as well as in town
So the ultimate will have come
brrr brrr frost yea him Jack Frost
with a nasty sting in his tail
those early morns you'll pay the cost
You feel your fingertips go numb
can't get them warm at all
even wooly gloves don't effect
just like you're a stuffed doll
At least frost cures the colds
keeps nose clear away from bugs
so we'll get wrapped up ready for Jack
keep close together giving plenty hugs
( I know its spring in UK but just thoughts on looking back on winter)