Best Fettle Poems
The quilt upon my bed was stitched
By someone I don’t know.
My blue ceramic fish was formed,
Most likely, by a pro.
Some watercolors on my wall
Were painted by a friend
I met on a vacation
(Such good luck I’d recommend).
A wrought-iron scene, a stained-glass moon,
A mobile made of metal
All grace my home and help my mood
Improve to finer fettle.
I wonder if the artists think
About the crafts surrendered,
If it was worth the trade-off
For the compensation tendered.
I’d like to think they’re satisfied
That what they have created
Is there displayed in someone’s house,
Their talents celebrated.
Thou lay'st like a rose on deaths pillow
Silent and still, unsoothed by lifes request
Asleep the dawns and days of all and all
Eternity. My lovely Juliet
Wherefore art thou companions company?
Dost thou mockest life? "O my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty"
Knows't not you of these intense tears that grow
Onto your soil a river of a kind
Thou body blooms, unscarr'd from cheek to bone
Thus trees and rivers art jealous of thine scent
But be it may thy mouth will ne'er move
Upon itself to echoe, Romeo!
Nay life will ne'er become a friend in hand
And I to life a friend, nay, I think not
The sun and moon shalln't make for watching eyes
To view me with life and not with thee, my love
Thyself I say art bandy with thyself
Yet man of all, I'm troubled at thy race
'Twas not the serpent that reward Eve bale?
And God created man, and bale is man
For in our families doth men collide
To often foredo every innocent thing
With swords where-in great morning and lights night
Tis fineless feuds our families perform
What bravery to birth our tragedy!
I balk that flesh is where abodements lay
O wife, I canst o'er-crow life in thine distance
May I afront death as thy hath approach'd?
Perchance I die with drink. Ay, there's the rub!
No time to fettle, ay, at once death come
Into my life as I drink thee in full
Slowly thy soul escapes. Thou art foredone
Soon to bewray thyself with waiting wife
Romeo and Juliet; How tragic is love
7-8-11
Fate someday will determine when our days are concluded,
And those who think otherwise are sadly deluded!
Plans were made to ease my crossing with little compunction,
When I shed these earthly shackles and cease to function!
Since I like things in proper trim, regular and complete,
Plans were made in great detail to impress Old Saint Pete!
I'll enjoy a lovely mountain view from my sepulcher space.
Even a headstone with an epitaph is already set in place!
Arrangements compel me to be laid out in a slumber room,
Amid a forest of flowers that will currently be in bloom.
I wanted to be displayed in my jeans, they don't look so bad.
My spouse said, "No, I'd die of embarrassment if you were so clad!"
The funeral guy showed his caskets, each the top of the line.
I said, "Hold on there! I'd rather repose in a simple box of pine!"
"But sir" said he, "these are made with the most durable metal,
And will see you thro' your eternal bourne in very fine fettle!"
The salesman conducted the transaction with consummate skill,
But I almost died on the spot when he presented the bill!
I'd much rather have spent those bucks on an earth-bound fling!
Folks, if I could, I would just as soon forget the whole blamed thing!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
in quietness divine
the xanthous zephyr balm
a citrusy ascent
to sip on Summer’s tea
a lovely day is spent
in quietness divine
a fine fettle of dreams
the fantasy, a soak
an Autumn bath of leaves
the stately sigh of oak
in quietness divine
by brandy quell of warmth
the crunch of hooves in snow
a pen and paper touch
and subtle shade aglow
in quietness divine
calm wings with songs enchant
all Spring is kin of dawn
behold a lake with swans
pink petals on rose lawn
1/25/2021
ALL YOURS
SPONSOR: BRIAN STRAND
More things can happen or could have happened,
From a cold metal,
Sharpened in fine fettle,
Making skin nettled,
Damaging the mettles,
To keep minds unsettled,
Provoking to ask, if this is or if this was real or mental?
Blade on arms,
Skin might be harmed;
Skin was gashed,
Blade grinding and gnashed,
Red colors coming in a flash...
Blade on gut,
Feeling a sudden jut,
Provoked as a rut,
But, this was a guff...
Blade on neck,
Thinking about a sudden sweep,
Discord trying to overcome conviction and peace,
Even though, the blade failed again,
Failing to provoke the red gushes and streams...
Blade on heart,
Might be the last battle so far,
Trying to not give in, being so hard,
Though in the past, there could have been to many cuts,
And more deadly slashes,
Creating red splashes and plashes,
As I slowly might have fought, winning or losing,
Against the sleeping and life flashing feeling,
As I bleeded out..
'wind is pounding in my heart'
It tears across the steppes and plain, it guides my mind and eases pain
Whithin the yurt, upon the road, it whets my mind; eases the loads
I've rode it's Breast ten thousand times,' with banner high the yak tails nine
Its of my blood, throughout my race, we hold it near'in flood; or trace
It's face is clear,, it's embrace strong, we sing it's praise riding along
The clatter of the ponys hooves, not loved by those who dwell neath rooves.!
The pallid sallow, wall surrounded.. And when we start they'll be astounded..'
We ride hard two days and nights, to charge and wheel; and ever strike.'
To clear a space, where yurts can be; then to move in travel free
To wake to different scenes around, to venture quickly into feotid towns
To take a bargain, to strike a deal; to return to the fire, and let sleep steal
And in this act, renew our mettle, to grasp each chance with finest fettle.
'For the contest of Constance Lafrance'
'Be inspired by your muse'
Written 17 8 2022
A Footle?
Explain
Again!
~
Boot?
Coot?
Bottle?
No Footle
What makes a Footle?
A Footle’s a pootle, you see
You first take a mootle, a small twist of tootle,
then you fattle your fettle and fittle your futtle and that’s how a Footle is made!
~
For Yasmin's Footle Fun Competition.
Flee, my Heart! Leave this vessel, a husk of metal- my Spirit sick!
Now! Depart! No Conscious wrestled, decisions settled- fingers pricked!
A map to chart, my tested mettle, deeply nettled- the wounds I've licked;
A Quest to start, the finest fettle, a boat of petals- please kill me quick!
Such Agony! To be besotted, tightly knotted- paltry sums;
A Felony! Memory blotted, Veins are clotted- Soul succumbed!
Lo! Verily, the Time allotted, eyes are spotted- gently strummed;
Terribly, the Gods have plotted- like Ghosts in Psychomanteums!
A mariner went a'pon the sea
To find his fair lass a pearl
So he in grand fettle
Gathered his mettle
And let his ship's sails unfurl
No able for the deed so tough
The mariner would pey the mail
So he all alone
Would find no stone
And his venture would truly fail
Ye go on the bash
O mariner, so doomed
And enjoy one day a'last
It's a cadger's curse
And your anchor's been cast
For by the sea ye'll be entombed
The mariner set his net afloat
For the maiden of the sea he lied in wait
She'd have to come soon
And he'd have his boon
Aye, a pearl to his lass afore it's too late
He hadn't spied nary a one
When he heard a lullaby tune
He looked down in the deep
For the nymph of the sea
To see where to thrust his harpoon
“Wull ye no byde a wee?” sang she
Luring the poor mariner along
He climbed over the aft
Leaving his raft
Enchanted by her devilish song
So it's aw by nou
O mariner so doomed
For this day shall be your last
It's a cadger's curse
And your anchor's been cast
And by the sea ye'll be entombed
It'll be yon tyme afore
He'll see his bonny lass again
For he sank down to his grave
'Neath sea, wind and waves
So was the tale of the seaman
Feeling sorry for her deed
The singing maiden did pay
A parting gift
Upon his dead lips
A pearl formed of her tears was layed
And so was the daith
Of the mariner thus doomed
A pearl for his lass
Would ne'er be seen
Since this day was his last
When his anchor was cast
And by the sea was he entombed
CLOUDY SKY
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For acrid are your lies,
And by your rhetoric speech
No more are we enthralled.
For, this perennial drought,
On pages, in archives lies.
For rain to come,
In vain revelry the farmers wait.
For no wages, like a serf in the
Corn field they toil.
Your oath of fealty you scorned
And in the belly of sectarianism
It erodes.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more us
About rain to come
For the seedlings from drought’s
Heat wilt and by the arbor of your
Cloud eclipsed are the dreams of
The saplings, etiolated in gloom
For sunlight they grope.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
Cloudy sky
Say no more to us
About rain to come.
For horrid are your lies.
See,
The fettle faces that cheered
You to the pinnacle now shrink
From dearth. Wane, once glaring
Eyes in their hollow socket cringe.
Languid now are those sprightly
Hands that lifted you from the craddle
To your apogee.
From your wanton revelry the thunder
Claps and into the serenity of the famished
It cuts as with parched throat for the opening
Of the sky’s door for even a trickle they wait.
Gnarled children from famine on the scrawny
Backs of their mothers berth,
And with baleful eyes for them
The scavengers wait.
Cloudy sky.
Say no more to us,
About rain to come.
The shock that I felt was enormous,
as the tab on the cat food I pulled,
a fountain of biscuits shot out of the top-
the box, it was actually full !
I stood, disbelieving, bewildered,
this never had happened before,
I finally came to my senses again
and swept all the bits off the floor.
'Contents are liable to settle',
I've seen it on loads of foodstuffs,
in some cereals, where half of it is fresh air
and what's left is just not quite enough.
And bags of crisps, don't get me started,
whatever the flavour or range,
seven flakes, powdered crumbs
which just coat both your thumbs
and then leave your tongue feeling short-changed.
Forgive me, for always believing
(and I think most folks do, by and large)
that the air we breathe in now and always has been
since the dawn of mankind, free of charge.
So why do the makers of products
include something already free?
Just give us lots more of the thing I paid for
and leave all the breathing to me.
And when my time one day is over
and no longer am in fine fettle,
the box I'm carried off in,
on the lid of the coffin
write ' contents are liable to settle'.
One day, in the woods, I heard chatter, and seeing
Shrubs move on a trail, came across the famed dwelling
Of elves, those immortal, most bashful of beings
Defending the mountains and darkness dispelling.
Two fanciful creatures of myth were together,
With hair soft as sunlight and robes in rich fettle;
They played in the meadows, refreshed by the weather,
And butterflies came in their closeness to settle.
I sought to remain in my hiding, enchanted
By beauty and wisdom refused to the mortals.
Alas, I was seen and with scorn reprimanded,
Forbidden to enter the magical portal.
I left as I envied the luck which is granted
To some, here on earth, by the whim of blind forces,
While others must suffer the seed which is planted
In frail hearts to stir and inflame new remorses.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
There comes a young lad from abroad.
He wants a car but can’t afford.
So he gets scrap metal
And this he does fettle.
Then calls it a Honda Accord.
He took it out for a test-run.
At first this seemed to be great fun.
But in metal he fettle
The welding was brittle.
Suddenly it all came undone.
If an apple doesn't fall too far from its tree,
Wherefore, then, hath th fruits of my love fallen so far by me?
It took 25 years through th hankering sea,
& what felt like a million more to win th heart of thee.
If bittersweet are partings then why is it that me,
Yield all penchant for sweet things th moment you flee?
For fleeting was what th romance seemed to be,
Because th night apart was 10 years longer than our day of glee.
If th first love was loved in garden a great whilst ere me,
Then, trust, I was there: fervent and free,
Somewhere in Adam's fettle and pith;
I've traversed Eve's bosom & th cosmic sea-
I loved you, and I love you so endlessly.
Sedated, but now in full fettle
Yet I cannot boil the darn kettle
I can’t turn on tv
But can go for a pee
My hubby must be on his mettle!
Having been sedated I am not allowed to ‘operate ANY domestic equipment for 24 hours – I am lucky I have hubby and son to help me … but feel for anyone who lives on their own
07/07/20