Best Cause For Concern Poems
...adapted from the novel 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small Channel Island,
a sampling of people just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all their disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring them together,
'if it works' are his words for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount these days
to keep those nay-sayers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him an angel,
the more good deeds, the bigger they grow
'til they're actually poking right out of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact they're all gone,
he need not prepare a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens! he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what should he do?
he's conflicted, and lies in disgrace;
he sits down to ponder which way he should turn,
it's as clear as the nose on his face!
On the horns of a moral dilemma,
he simply gives in to pure Good;
he embraces his folk, he just loves them to death,
'til his wings are full-sprouted he'll
take to the air and keep flying
as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop for our Spirit, who knows?
...adapted from 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with
bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small
Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people
just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all those disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this
sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can
sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring
them together,
'if it works...' are his words
for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount
these days
to keep all those evil-believers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him
an angel,
the more he does good deeds
the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out
of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds
in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact
they're all gone,
he need not keep himself in disguise.
But this scheme that he's started
gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good
that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens!
he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what
should he do?
He's conflicted like never before.
He sits down to ponder which way
he should turn,
till it's clear, sitting right at his door.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good.
He embraces his folk, he just loves them
to death,
till his wings are full-sprouted; he could
take to the air and keep flying
just as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop the cosmos, who knows?
...adapted from the novel 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small Channel Island,
a sampling of people just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all their disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring them together,
'if it works' are his words for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount these days
to keep those nay-sayers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him an angel,
the more good deeds, the bigger they grow
'til they're actually poking right out of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact they're all gone,
he need not prepare a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens! he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what should he do?
he's conflicted, and lies in disgrace;
he sits down to ponder which way he should turn,
it's as clear as the nose on his face!
On the horns of a moral dilemma,
he simply gives in to pure Good;
he embraces his folk, he just loves them to death,
'til his wings are full-sprouted he'll
take to the air and keep flying
as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop for our Spirit, who knows?
He was born in the year 1899
A cruel birth, pregnancy poisoning
The birth of the child became the mother's death
The father of the boy was crushed by love
... he hated and blamed the boy
He did not want to know, hear or have anything to do with the child
Timothy grew up with his old grandmother
As a baby he cries both day and night
When he got older he was a confined and sad boy
Drawing was the only thing he liked,
children express themselves through drawing
A cruel world he designed, always in black
No researchers interpreted his drawings at that time
It was cause for concern, he drew death
The personality traits were his own cruel death
Timothy concealed his pain, but for him no alternative solutions
He is already struggling with suicidal thougths
Grandmother died when he was 11 years old, life seemed so scary
Helpless and afraid he jumped into the river
two days after his grandmother's death ... a black night without moonlight
Both of them were buried on the same day and place
The grave is always guarded by a black raven
27.03.2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Image1
5th place in the contest
When it came to dating I had a soul full of sorrow
But all of my friends told me to hang in there
When we met I felt you looking into my soul
My soul laid bare with all protection lost
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder
And I would wait with bated breath to see you again
I finally knew what it was like to fall head over heels
Everything’s coming up roses was my first thought of every day
As time went by our love reached new heights
I thought our love could stand against the sands of time
Then sand started to fall through the cracks
The self-doubts and thoughts that no one understands me surfaced
Your spending was also a cause for concern
You have champagne tastes and a beer budget
When we split there were words that were left unspoken
It felt like you tore out my heart that day which I’ll never forget
My heart withered like a raisin and my tears fell like rain
After all no man is an island we are much more than meets the eye
I know now that your beauty is only skin deep
But it doesn’t do any good to cry over spilled milk
My friends say time heals all wounds
I guess when all is said and done
I’m sitting here left with nothing but a soul full of sorrow
Ha-llo-ween
In the dead of the night witches fly
On their broomsticks across silken skies
There they practice their art without fear
On this one frightful night of the year.
Trick or treat is the cry of the young
As they hover round each hearth and home
Unaware of the dangers they’d meet
As they knock on the doors down their street
Dressed as zombies or demons or ghosts
Grisly faces look totally gross
With ‘terror’ they scream as they play
On the eve of that sinister day
With their cauldrons of sweets they return
Safely home without cause for concern
As on All Hallows eve when that clock strikes thirteen
The undead then reclaim Halloween.
Heather Buxton 2014
I need to exhale,
Expressing my inner feelings in a nutshell.
Let me contemplate what I should say -
To tell the truth, yeah or nay.
Yeah, and I'm alone,
She walks out for good.
Nay, I'm a liar,
Stuck in the same place I've always stood.
Each equally important to me,
And that's cause for concern.
I can't choose, which is why I never learn.
Integrity is what I truely hope for,
Insincerity is what I seem to have ample supply in store.
I will be honest when the time is right,
It's just not today, or tonight.
Carpe Diem, seize the day
Live by the rules of the game you play
The world is your oyster, enjoy the ride
When the going gets tough, look on the bright side
Silence is golden, take that to the bank
Put that in your pipe while smoke screens draw blank
Though money makes the world go round
Speak louder through actions than through sound
Empty vessels make the most noise
Best medicine, laughter, daily poise
Fool me once means shame on you
Shame on me, that’s fooled times two
Follow your heart, reach for the stars
Dreams come true, firefly jars
A bird in hand is worth two in a bush
When push comes to shove, shove comes to push
A stitch in time always saves nine
As luck still favors prepared minds
Fortune favors the brave at heart
Every ending once had a start
Live your life without regret
‘Tis better to forgive and to forget
We’re proned to get as hard as we give
Throw stones in the glass houses we live
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
Two birds with one stone, that’s quite a catch
A rolling stone gathers no moss
Too many cooks spoil the broth
Just try again if you don’t succeed
And don’t believe everything you read
Make every experience educational
To think twice before speaking is critical
Let sleeping dogs lie I always say
Cause every dog will have his day
To be taught new tricks no matter the age
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Two heads they say is better than one
Violence isn’t always the key my son
Beggars can’t choose, that much we know
More haste less speed, no time to grow
When seams come undone, it’s cause for concern
We are what we are, we live what we learn
...adapted from the novel 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with bold dreams
to make us all happy and free;
he selects as his target a small Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along,
without all those disputes and fights,
he tries to bring peace to this sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring them together,
'if it works...' are his words for the day;
a sense of humour is paramount these days
to keep those nay-sayers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
there's discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him an angel,
the more he does good the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out of his shirt,
my heavens, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact they're all gone,
he need not create a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been busy negating the good that he's done
he's turned Devil, good gracious! he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what should he do?
he's conflicted and cloaked in disgrace;
he sits down to ponder which way he should turn,
'til it's clear, like the nose on his face.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good;
he embraces his people, he loves them so much,
then his wings are full-sprouted; he could
just take to the air and keep flying
as far as infinity goes,
so he bids the assembly a tearful farewell,
his next stop Uranus, who knows?
...a tribute to 'Mr Pye,' a novel by Mervyn Peake
********
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with
bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small
Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people
just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all those disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this
sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can
sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring
them together,
'if it works...' are his words
for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount
these days
to keep all those evil-believers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him
an angel,
the more he does good deeds
the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out
of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds
in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact
they're all gone,
he need not don a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started
gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good
that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens!
he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what
should he do?
He's conflicted like never before.
He sits down to ponder which way
he should turn,
till it's clear, sitting right at his door.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good.
He embraces his folk, he just loves them
to death,
till his wings are full-sprouted; he could
take to the air and keep flying
just as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop Uranus, who knows?
HUMANITIES REALITIES
The morality rate is at an all-time low
Disparity runs ramped in the streets
The reality of it all screams out "NO"
While everyone's volcanity seethes in heat
The fatality of decency, the mundanity of life
Lost vitality in heart, mind, body , and soul
The profanity we curse caused by pain and strife
Trying to think with a mentality like a 5 year old
The inanity of our Spirituality is cause for concern
Fearing the brutality of he who holds the keys
The formality in how we all just wait our turn
While people in urbanity walk around on their knees
The insanity of humanity, such a depressive state
Exhausting our veracity beating on one another
The criminality in our belief, the fires burn in hate
Glamourizing the totality of pitting brother against brother
01/25/17
My neighbour, Mellifluous Myrtle
Her urine she’d stir with a spurtle
She’d give me a wink
Then down it as drink
She’s loopier than the mock turtle!
One Sunday we’d watched the Grand Prix
She proffered a flask of her pee
I said, “Sorry dear
It’s cloudy not clear -
I much prefer my English tea!”
Her pubic hair she'd tried to perm
The lotion gave a nasty burn
I phoned up Bill, her son
And said ,"Please visit mum,
Her conduct is cause for concern."
I recently heard some great news
That Myrtle’s son won a year cruise
I must hope and then pray
When they leave on Friday
Her bev’rages ain’t from the loos!
...a tribute to 'Mr Pye,' a novel by Mervyn Peake
********
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with
bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small
Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people
just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all those disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this
sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can
sleep nights.
He practices witchcraft to bring
them together,
'if it works...' are his words
for the day.
A sense of humor is paramount
these days
to keep all those evil-believers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavors
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him
an angel,
the more he does good deeds
the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out
of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds
in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact
they're all gone,
he need not don a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started
gets odder,
there's a growth on his temple, a horn;
he's been so busy negating the good
that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens!
he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what
should he do?
He's conflicted like never before.
He sits down to ponder which way
he should turn,
till it's clear, sitting right at his door.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good.
He embraces his friends, he just loves them
to death,
till his wings are full-sprouted; he could
take to the air and keep flying
just as far as infinity goes,
so he bids the townsfolk a tearful farewell,
next stop Uranus, who knows?
By condo fence
Bird choir melody;
Song of July
Marriage banquet
Hosts in finery;
Guests and feast sparkle
Gratitude speaks
Spilling fond banter;
Bride and groom delight
Distant laughter
Prompts curious eyes;
Ears on the prowl
See moments crisp
Potato chips tasty;
TV sitcom drama
Evening comes around
Rare red sun horizon;
Daylight waving goodbye
Nonsense can talk
Crude noise intrudes;
Calm thoughts watch
Moment to commit
Territorial glimpses;
Takeover bid
Deep design motifs:
Extravagant ideas;
Simple illustration
Talk is cheap
Only execution matters;
DIY moments
News flash outcry:
Commercial plane shot down;
World mourns tragic murder
War decides death
Destruction forces pain;
Revolutions change nothing
Sad story
Death by fire bombs;
No one spared
Headline news
All over the world;
297 dead mid flight
Such inhumanity
No cause for concern;
Warring fractions impasse
Today's world awakes
Weapons of mass destruction;
In small hordes
Tension escalates
Man versus man;
No one wins
Sooner not later
Change intervenes;
New gremlin harvest
Morning coffee
Aroma of wakefulness;
Prelude to day's onslaught
Once upon a time
Spring held sweet ardour;
Today, old age ferments
Words speed along
Congestion impedes;
Word craft evolves
Leon Enriquez
28 July 2014
Singapore
...adapted from 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with
bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small
Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people
just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all those disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this
sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can
sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring
them together,
'if it works...' are his words
for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount
these days
to keep all those evil-believers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him
an angel,
the more he does good deeds
the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out
of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds
in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact
they're all gone,
he need not keep himself in disguise.
But this scheme that he's started
gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good
that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens!
he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what
should he do?
He's conflicted like never before.
He sits down to ponder which way
he should turn,
till it's clear, sitting right at his door.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good.
He embraces his folk, he just loves them
to death,
till his wings are full-sprouted; he could
take to the air and keep flying
just as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop Uranus, who knows?