Best Sprightly Poems
The wee people, clever and sprightly,
play tricks on the mortal folk, nightly.
As there's mischief in me,
could it possibly be
I've got leprechaun charm in me, slightly?
...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?
“The sound of birds stops the noise in my mind.”
— quote by Carly Simon
----------------------------------------------------
I see pair of red-whiskered bulbuls
with wrong-end rouge, spikes, eloquent note
gurgling - spinning love, singing the loop,
billing, bowing, chattering. I swoon
A gentleman opened his mail,
When out jumped a sprightly young snail.
"I'm glad to be out,"
He said with a shout,
"I thought I was in a white whale."
.
hern celt
plead'n
"kiss viriley
me
you man"
tish
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