Best Humoured Poems
They thought he was a harmless fool.
His hair dyed black
And eyebrows pencilled in,
The silver outfits -
Shoulders huge -
And platform shoes.
His lyrics less than lyrical,
Chanted, shouted
At his concerts;
His hits always played at parties.
A has-bean humoured,
Perhaps patronised,
His antics tolerated.
But Gary Glitter had a dark secret…
Jack Horne for Nette's Glitter contest
This is the story of Sally Doolally
A young maiden farmer from down in the valley
She kept a keen eye out for Thomas McNally
And dreamed of the day he would say, ‘Can we marry?’
Sally Doolally had once caught his eye
When the hat that she wore was a stale apple pie
She couldn’t find flowers to wear in her hair
So she pinned a half eaten carrot in there
Her lipstick was not anywhere to be found
So she mashed up some beetroot and smeared it around
Because her best dress was still hung on the line
She wore an old curtain she’d coloured with wine
Her shoes were worn out so she put on her feet
Two old cardboard boxes to walk down the street
She had no gold ring like girls wear in their nose
Her bulls all had rings so she wore one of those
She headed for town at a bit of a jog
Attached to her waist by a rope was her dog
In one hand she carried a frog in a jar
And held in her teeth was a massive cigar
She met an old friend and she told her it rankles
That grandma’s old bloomers were draped round her ankles
She took them while grandma was making a trifle
And ‘LOOK!’ she hoped Thomas would like grandpa’s rifle
The old friend said, ‘Thomas is mad about rabbits,’
So Sally could maybe exhibit their habits
Her friend told her Thomas was down at the shops
So Sally rushed off doing mad bunny hops
She saw him and gave him a good humoured wink
But did they get married… well what do you think?
Turns out McNally was doolally too
And so when invited they both said, ‘I do.’
I am not the person you see
I am not the person you see,
There’s a fool, a clown inside me.
Shackled by my chains and red tape,
Only in solitude does madcap escape.
Sometimes I yearn to let go,
Be the extrovert only I know.
Show you who I really am,
Eccentric good-humoured man.
Shirt and Tie to the office trance,
Back home at five, party and dance.
Come the day I meet my fate,
Madcap has left it too late.
There’s a fool trying to break free,
I’m not really the person you see.
light weight lamps outweigh surrounding darkness
float on wavy strings of lucid reason and emotion
translucent Christmas decorations are up to cheer
but ill-humoured disbelief has tripped the fuse box
remember there was a halo but just one single candle
close to the manger to minimize the risk of burning
the crowded inn sheltering hope and weary migrants
displaced marginalized and exhausted from pregnancy
Mary cast a passionate glimpse on her naked offspring
immaculate in her faith and her belief in human love
spreading like a wild fire into shadows of hardship
as the sun of politics and false religion already cast
the image of crucifixion at the cross roads of Jerusalem
and yet she nursed the baby in strong arms and mind
shepherds flocked around radiance of a guardian angel
scented spices took away the foul stench of the barn
cast away in safety of frankincense myrrh and gold
but alchemists already waited to secure a silver shilling
so heavy that it was difficult to turn the temple’s table
fixed upon the burden of dogma false shine and crusades
Joseph reminded doubters of glow and lustre to prevail
Mary took a thread from the loincloth of her baby boy
braided a bit of cotton into wicks and gave them freely
to those who knocked helplessly upon the stable door
the homeless often share more than those who can afford
but only give generous amounts of self-righteousness to
further their mercurial almost satanical inequitable quest
they fear that the little saviour undermined their wealth
some say the story is a historical myth and fabrication
with Christianity a deceiving invention to distract from
monopoly of market trading and the heavy price of shares
and bright light only resides in vaults while safe boxes are
the key to happiness and the miracle of being able to buy
one hundred chandeliers to illuminate opulent housing
but in my own heart I prefer the message of good will
07th December 2020
The Light Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
There he goes again
proving them all wrong
spent his life doing that
they don’t cotton on
Oh too right off in humoured fashion
mock each day and banter bash him
make a mockery oh enjoying
openly mock it's only Trim
and he's aware and lets it fly
he knows what false sense can buy
their confidence is on his side
stupid now not down the line
And he will milk the vindication
for his skill was no indication
instead laugh down a clown conviction
ignorant blind convincing wisdom
He rubs it in as they don’t realise
their nastiness cast him aside
demoralise fake horrid minds
laugh through such shallow life’s
They only note in hope he's not bright
don’t look close study read writes
lowly opinions savage plight
Dying seconds silence, laugh, it’s I
this feeling of bad is a mutual return
but with you more severe the burn
as unlike yours it's been earned
prove wrong, alone, you take turns
that means I beat all of you
make a fool of you to school with you
so cruel are you beat all of you
call me delude, umm it's you
put up with it for months alone
now I'm pumped so I let it be known
you put me down enjoyment shown
never calling you my own
A tipped bottle on the windowsill
next to the wine cascade,
overlooked by the half --
(empty) – moon.
The cat that painted autumn
upon the trees, forgot me, instead,
green turned straight
into naked bark.
Yet, pleading for prestige is
ironic like a speech made
by a cartoon character.
It must be humoured
like a neon kiss
from a stranger,
and then discarded
with the sketchy magazine.
Hushed away,
with the spilt fruit juices,
mopped up by my
dirty smile
(hidden up my sleeve.)
Usually, I leave
the muddle for the morn’.
But, tomorrow is for sale.
Form:
Drop hints play with my mind,waste my time, wind me up ,lows and highs, this roller coaster,i'm on your ride ,surfing your tide,choking on water,flip me around , fill my ears with false sounds,empty words, meaningless utters then leave me cold with shudders,dark empty space, emotional erase,this is the latest disgrace,my heart misplaced,your vacant soul,my love you stole,no kind intentions,nothing really left to mention,just another life lesson,just another dark humoured blessing,just another tide to be turned,another badge to be earned,another chapter read,a new direction in which to be led,time to go on without dread
Santa Splash! And around they go.
'Round the islands and back, they row!
Surrounded by December hues,
reds and yellows, and brilliant blues.
Causey rises in purple glow
waiting the cold coming of snow.
Elves and Santas all do agree
that this event is full of glee.
What a sight as they race along
amid the cheers of rousing throng.
Good humoured fun with prize to win,
Oh what a great day this has been!
ANOTHER DAWN
The morning winces as a new day begins
Mired in the half slumber of a restless night
And reluctant to engage whilst half awake
Like a trembling foot hovering over the brake
Good humoured dawn greetings sound trite
And the fading moon just knowingly grins
Dawn comes around so quickly these days
No chance or time to complete a dream
What a critical daily role to have acquired
As the demand is that all shall be inspired
When night’s blanket is loose at the seam
But it’s the diurnal clock that one obeys
There’s no respite with this job for eternity
Day after day, just subtle seasonal changes
None can detect my initial blurred vision
My tired eyes can see no changed decision
The world still turns, and gravity engages
My half sister moon, no shared paternity
13 Sept 2022, '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 14', Sponsor=Mark Toney
Today,
the emotions which arose,
contracted our consciousness
arising from aversion
propelled by ego
owing to
a response,
which we determined
as being harsh and unjust,
whereas, after reflection,
we now recognise
that we could
have simply
have shrugged
and moved on,
humoured by the play,
being so enacted to test and jest with us,
under cover of darkness,
which we have chosen
to experience
upon earth.
02-August-2021
Villanelle : Doubt not who is Master of your conditioned Fate
Doubt not who is Master of your conditioned Fate
Ask only why your actions lead down the wrong path
All else makes for doubt doubt only if Fate's innate
Neither Past nor Future time exist inchoate
All and everything's rolled in ever Present birth
Doubt not who is Master of your conditioned Fate
Are alll lives exemplary and of equal rate
Or only those fated to be humoured by Death
All else makes for doubt doubt only if Fate's innate
Is Life just a gift of the gods or Man's mandate
The Buddha's metaphor of bleeding arrow worth
Doubt not who is Master of your conditioned Fate
Those who preach living Life to the full suffocate
Carpe Diem is fine if you can afford mirth
All else makes for doubt doubt only if Fate's innate
No trace of passage on earth makes one contemplate
If lives we leave behind acts of blind psychopath
Doubt not who is Master of your conditioned Fate
All else makes for doubt doubt only if Fate's innate
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 13, 2018
when aspect of us that is not
becomes good humoured
equal through highs and lows
feeling God in each breath
ego relinquishing all doership
becomes silence of space
in, within but not of the world
whereupon bubble bursts
that that never was disappears
then all that is is Self alone
which always was, is and will be
living light eternal within
now cognised in the waking state
When I look into a mirror
who is looking back at me
I’m hoping
really, really hoping
that it is me looking back
but how will I know
that it’s really, really me
can I believe only me
the one looking in
and I hope
the one looking back
or should I throw it out there
ask the unwashed masses
“Who is that in the mirror,
looking back at me?”
if I’m told
“It’s you, you silly man”
am I being humoured
being told what I want to hear
if I’m told
“There’s no-one there, you silly man”
must I then accommodate the horror
that this response invites
or can I just look away
and turn around
will I then be looking
at the back of my head
as I stare into the mirror
we look into each other’s eyes
smile a little
and tip each other a wink
agreeing
that it is a jolly fine old riddle
this looking into a mirror thing.