Best Farthing Poems
beckons darkest day
offering a farthing of
moonshine and starlight —
coupled flesh warm beneath quilt
Winter wine keeps spirits’ bright
beckons darkest day
coldness of the Christ’s sealed tomb —
tears and fears presume
the worst of ebon, the death
of life and healing; breathing
celebration of
the birth and rebirth from God
at the darkest times —
star of Bethlehem sojourns
to every bootlegged corner
celebration of
all sons and daughters of King
haloed in moonshine —
silent nights prescribed, roaring
hearth and candlelight; pristine
12/9/2020
I've never been one to nosey but
Looking through my net curtains
I just happened to have a pair of binoculars in my hand
I'm a curious kinda man
Ooh you wouldn't believe the things I've seen
Not being a gossip of course
It's so posh around here the mail is personally
Delivered by the Queen
And across my vast sprawling country estate
Someone's skinny dipping in my lake
I think I'll choose a masserati today
And wave at the peasants on my way.
There goes Dietrich on her penny farthing
Listening to some Hank Marvin
Toqyen is drunk again
Casarah is walking her lama
Tim has just worked out at the gym
And Jan is looking nice and Trim
Peter and Vera
are in the garden
Singing Shakira
Poet destroyer is cutting the grass
Ooh she has a lovely fast
Mower that lass.
There goes Mary Jo on her pogo stick
She doesn't look too well hope she's not sick
Over there prince Harry is having a party again
A fancy dress
And he's dressed as hen
Well folks Think I'll get in my hot tub full of champagne
And wait until tomorrow
When I can spy again.
Peter Dome. copyright. 2014. Sept.
"...and
the modist
carving
into the
closet
door
read:
"I do not place my life, nor my trust,
my belief nor my faith within
the
resume
of man,
nor within
his cause.
For he
proclaimed,
is but a
mere
farthing
of his
merest
self;
and not
of Me.
He is
an avid
boasting;
ungrateful,
in the end
still unwilling
to know Me
and share Me
with all life.
Yes, time
is only a
vergence
forgone
to him.
His final
day he
will bring;
and in the way,
he brings this
he cannot rest.
I am certain of this."
"Signed: "Peace"
An ever reflective heart, spirit, mind, body, and soul, nice to meet you, friend.
Some have once called the dreamer as self-serving within the jest that they carry for themselves.
I have no resume of security, nor the double mind found through shame, pain, without submitting this effort to our Creator.
I will not seek to please the mere twist of myself. for in applying myself towards this effort, means dishonor in death.
How best may we serve, because I've said my prayers and am learning, I must apply myself to nothing less?
If this effort is merely for myself, be forewarned I will lead us off of a cliff with the pigs.
As I am being moved today, I am being formed into shape.
I mean to say, I am not the wonton victim today.
I am my very own jailer alone, no, I have no pardon for myself, all by myself.
Jesus, come, protect, Jesus, save who needs to be saved, save us from ourselves.
Jesus, keep us willing, bless us to share You as we will with the truth that carries all of us even in and through the very pain of death.
Keep the breath of life within us, bless us to save face in Your Presence, let this effort be our only wealth.
It was first all, beautiful
And the plain blue sky spanned on either sides
With snow-white flakes drifting religiously
Over light-green steeples into a land
Beyond what my bulgy brown eyes can see
And God sat; watching
It soon turned pitiful
And beholding as in a trance a swam of famished
locust
As they swopped upon all that was green
And the orphaned cub watched it's mother's skin
sold for a farthing
While the hunters bragged, brawled and laid upon
empty bottles
And God still sat; watching
Then it became sorrowful
With the tsunami as its hits the glass towers of
China, and the famine in the dark soils of Somalia
The nuclear arsenals in the far east
Which could annihilate all that creeps
And the blood of the sackless on the tub of the elite
Apocalyptic sermons on all corners;
Yet evil, even on holy ground nests gallantly.
And God still sits .........
The universe revolves around patterns and numbers.
Like an insomniac knowing not the meaning of the word slumber.
To say it's a big place would be a gross understatement.
If it were a face we'd be living on a farthing of a freckle,
a speck within a speck, in a weak attempt at communicating
with other fellow specks.
So where does that leave us,
being little more than dust riding on the coattails of pebble?
In the grander scheme of things
are we just the byproduct that some entity imagined one day
from a place both incredibly near and far, far away?
One who is a whiz at math no doubt...
Just look at the population,
how in it's in a constant state of progressive multiplication,
born into a world yet only to be divided into petty categories:
White, black, brown, yellow,
short, tall, slim, fat,
Asian, Caucasian,
European, Indian,
Yugoslavian, Brazilian.
It's a wonder we are recognized at all
living on this ball within a greater ball.
You wonder who holds the strings
or if we're all just windup toys;
alive and exciting for a time
only to run into the last gear,
the last programmed function.
Just what in the world are we doing here?
The universe may practice it's progressive multiplication
and subsequent division. That doesn't bother me.
What I personally like to do is find the GCD (greatest common denominator)...
... the fact we live and breathe. Ears to hear and eyes to see. So pick up the pieces... we have a long way to go if we can ever hope to solve this puzzle.
Though we may be a speck within a speck
riding on the coattails of a pebble, rejoice
with me. That you ARE, that you BE.
Take a good long look
at what surrounds you. It is much more than
it appears.
I don't know all the answers, but I do believe
we have a purpose here.
For the Nationality Contest.
On this Eid, as your sumum bonum
Is consumerism and as your soul is
Mortgaged to the Federal Reserve Bank
And hedonism, your mental wish-list has been
Inked on ‘things-to-dos’. The catalogue is
Quite impressive. Apart from the toddler,
On your lap, often you place your lap-top.
This time before Eid, to go smarter, you have
A must-gadget purchase: Palm-top.
To outshine others, and to add some
Extra gloss to your gadget-profile
You actively consider getting a tablet.
Even though, it is not the diminutive of table
And has nothing to do with the quadruped rectangle
And it is not to be swallowed with water,
It still has some therapeutic attributes.
Your schedule has accrued extra adipose tissue
With a cluster of meetings looming large on the corporate horizon,
You order designer cloths for yourself. Those fancy textile Marco Polos
Globe-trot and come to your door-step riding their
‘You shop, we drop’ policy.
You give blank cheque to your greater-half
To travel to Metropolitan Centres or Peripheral megacities
To epicurianize herself and her cohorts.
From the other side of the horizon,
Thoreau watches you thoroughly and asks,
This time you’ve parted with
From your obesity-ridden bank account.
All this, I know, is cosmetic purpose-driven.
You, proud buddy, spent this much to decorate your body.
Have you spent a single farthing to adorn your soul?
With a thin and outstretched arm,
eyes agape with none it stares,
drained of all but a beating heart,
she hopes a farthing unsure to come,
Her hands are empty, her tummy complains,
worries soon washed aside when it rains,
she rushes under the bridge she calls home,
but slaps and shouts send her back out,
Drenched and delirious, she's hoping again,
against the great odds of a heavy rain,
fate kind this once, she gets her some bread,
and thereafter deemed to have earned her bed,
But time and sleep cannot quench hunger,
and she wakes and roams till it is supper,
empty bowls and harsh reality once more greet her,
she goes back to sleep and dream of dinner.
Four Farthing For Four Chews.
We only had a penny each but it could buy four chews
In the days when it was four farthings to a penny
Glass jars lined up like soldiers; it was so hard to choose
There were not lots of flavours, but there was many…
In the days when it was four farthings to a penny
Then they changed it to halfpennies, but not the price of the chew
There were not lots of flavours, but there was many…
When they cut the penny, not into four, but into two
Then they changed it to halfpennies, but not the price of the chew
Now we could not even buy four sweets
When they cut the penny, not into four, but into two
Pocket money could not now buy the treats
Now we could not even buy four sweets
Glass jars lined up like soldiers; it was so hard to choose
Pocket money could not now buy the treats
We only had a penny each, but it could buy four chews.
Entry for Pantoum Contest
© ~GG~ 06 09 2012
England Chews Different types of individually wrapped sweets. Decimalisation meant we could not get four for a penny any more only two.
Beneath the evening lamplight, I sit on nature's floor
Entreating those emerging from their crystal paneled doors,
To ask a single farthing, or penny they might give,
And grant this humble beggar, a means where I might live.
And as they come and go each night they disdain to notice me,
For beneath the evening lamplight, my cup is all they see.
The carriages they click and clack upon the cobblestones,
As highborn men and ladies, go to and from their homes.
And as the snuffer has made his round, and morning chased the night,
I'll drag these lifeless legs along and wait for end of light.
For beneath the evening lamplight is my place on nature's floor,
Entreating those emerging from their crystal paneled doors.
LAS NAVES DE MEDERA (Wooden Ships)
They wanted ships. What they got
was wooden shells
not a farthing from the Crown
for these floating buckets.
Six thousand corks, hastily riveted
into the keel planking, kept them afloat.
Nina. Santa Maria. Pinta.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained said Isabella.
Ah, muchacho, would she ever cash in.
The navigater shot the course
over the main, visions of tapestry and lace
and all sorts of spices in his head.
Gold? Well--Sí, oro.
But he never dreamed.
The natives appeared naked and restless.
In scatted shades of blues and reds,
artists painted skirts on the girls,
long shirts on the old women,
loincloth on the men,
and a pearl studded gilded robe on the king.
Which Chris promptly stole.
His mistake was trying to hide it
from Isabella.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
Form:
When monorhyming, try data mining
Rhymezone com surfing, all word rhymes searching
Best suffix finding, words with "ing" ending
Present tense verbing, use twice in singing
Nouning with morning, farthing and shilling
Fling thing with sling string, monosyllabing
Entry for the "Rhymers delight - internal monorhyme" contest
Written 5th January 2017
HOW I MANAGED not TO BE A DOC
You know something,
Me a thing, I think not worth than a farthing
was put in a college of Medicine.
Paternal honour intact was to be kept.
Heavy in heart and blurred in vision
When thought of those bespectacled sermons
On blood and urea, capillary and neuron.
I tugged at my mom, a deaf ear she gave.
Like a prep child, I crossed the day
For the doom to impend on my lovely day
On the calendar on the wall with landscapes gay.
Oh! All because my father loved me so.
On that day I stood on a rostrum
Feverish, next to a corpse bloated and grey
I was to say my name and greet the group.
But all I could choke out was a meek gibber.
I fell down with a thud,next to the corpse,
funny,all came running to the body lifeless,
for he was the specimen for one whole year.
The thing I knew next,
On my bed cozy I was
And I think I heard my father say,
Smiling,
‘Oh,It is all right my dear’!
Charlie was dead
Charlie was dead: to begin with,
There is no doubt whatever about that.
I leave my residue to Carol for Christmas
and Little Dorrit his faithful Tom Cat.
There’s been hard times here in Bleak House,
Villainy and miserly crime capers,
I spent my fortune in shops of curiosity,
Pickwick wrote of it, in his gossip papers.
You gather here with great expectations,
Of bequeaths, chattels and yield.
But listen well to my loyal Trustees,
Messrs Chuzzlewit and Copperfield.
To that twister and Street Urchin Oliver,
and to show I bear him no grudge,
I do leave a Crown and one Farthing,
and a sixpence to Barnaby Rudge.
To our mutual friends Dombey and Son,
Please accept my cane and fine silk scarf.
May you prosper all the year round,
As comfortable as a Cricket on a hearth.
So, here is my last Will and Testament,
Yes, I’m worthless, so whimper and brood.
Where did it all go, there is no mystery,
Lost at Cards to Nickleby and Drood.
KS 6/11/2017
Why would you waver in your way pulling off to the side
Why would you change your day giving back into pride
Surely, His eye is upon you, why would you ever worry
Knowing this in all you do there isn't any need to hurry
The focus of all your attention you will feel such a calm
For did I not mention He has you securely in His Palm
You needn't worry anymore nor need you lose sleep
As in Him all is secure as in Him you need only steep
No storm could ever sink for it is in Him that I abide
In all of the thoughts that I think He is near my side
Such forgiveness of that Cross in dying for us freely
One not feeling His loss is the one who doesn't see
Each day is a special Gift that He has given to you
The world will sift for only in His Word are you true
And such the joy I find in the following of His Way
So as each day may wind in my heart does He stay
Matthew 10:29-31
29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing
and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.