Best Up Market Poems
For your (Turkish) Delight party invite
Sweetshop had shut up for the day
The Maltesers decided they were going away
They packed their gear in a Dairy Box
To climb a Glacier called Mint Fox
The sweets were now all wide awake
There was All Sorts of fun to make
The Chocolate Mice ran to and fro
As the Mars Bars to Mothers Pub did go
The Kit Kats spotted the chocolate mice
Who ran circles round the Coconut Ice
The Bounty cried because it was in dry dock
Time showed After Eight on the big wall clock.
The Marathons were training very hard
Some Pear Drops and Spangles standing on guard
The Smarties were looking for a Treet
They moved up market to Quality Street.
The clever Jelly Tots got carried away
Too lazy to walk, they used a Milk Tray
The Dolly Mixtures danced and sang
To All Gold heavy metal music -Bubble Gum went off with a bang.
The Coconut Mushrooms went timid and shy
Wine Gums and Chocolate Buttons looking up to the sky
To see The Sherbet Flying Saucers whizzing around
The Liquorice Torpedoes stayed firmly on the ground
The Jelly Tots decided to loop the loop
Chocolate Cigarettes played Polo20and Hula Hoop
Sherbet Dips joined their friend Liquorice Straw
The Crème Eggs were lying flat out on the floor.
Even the Minstrels loved this free for all party
The Humbugs were picking a fight with a Smartie
But they all agreed a good Feast was had by all
As they danced the night away at the Aniseed Ball.
(c) Barbara Brewin 27thAugust 2008 All rights reserved
Radio impulse
Stray songs invite;
Hip melancholy
~~~~~~~~~
Words and lyrics
Basket of moods;
Mental corridors
~~~~~~~~~
Espresso machine
Caffeine song;
Frothy brew
~~~~~~~~~~
Dancing darling
Plucks my heart strings;
Sense surround
~~~~~~~~~
Listen now
Birdsong metaphor;
Dawn brings magic
~~~~~~~~~
Profound moments
Rain wets window;
Windy sadness
~~~~~~~~~
Neighbour smiles
Meal takeaway chit-chat;
Weather and prices
~~~~~~~~~
Pineapple slices
Lunch time treats;
Sour-sweet yellow
~~~~~~~~~
Dress-up ladies
Dolls on stilettos;
Curvatures glow
~~~~~~~~~
Mascara eyes
Vivid charades fix;
Dreamy distance
~~~~~~~~~
News headlines blast
Earthquake tremors again;
Nepalese pain grips
~~~~~~~~~
Sighing old woman
Complains to herself;
Ghostly whispers
~~~~~~~~~
Wayside alcoholic
Smiles in somnolence;
Happy delusions
~~~~~~~~~~
Be beyond blur
Lively nonsense;
Sound escape plan
~~~~~~~~~
New food court here
Up market ambience;
Prices escalate
~~~~~~~~~
Two grownup kids meet
Playground romance;
Brief interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Wedding banquet
Happy couple cheers;
Sanguine guests feast
~~~~~~~~~
Yoda in green
True to life;
Star Wars philosophy
~~~~~~~~~
"Do or do not,
There is no try."
The Force runs away
~~~~~~~~~
Sing to the dawn
Be happy now;
Tomorrow can wait
~~~~~~~~~
My darling calls
Expresso ready;
Blurry steps slide
~~~~~~~~~
Glimpse here
New light flings;
Suspend objections
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
27 May 2015
Singapore
Born to different fathers they were never that close
But their mother insisted they keep in touch
They never had much in common apart from the love for their Mum
One was drawn by the magnetism of corporate trappings
The other mesmerised by wailing guitars and thrashing drums
Hair looking like a ruby ball cactus, eyes wild and piercing
Did he land face first in a tackle box? No one can be sure or is game to ask
Whilst Prada adorns the chiselled body of the astute looking banker
Clean cut freshly shaven with a healthy amount of Giorgio Armani evident
Hours of pain are clear to see on the colourful skin of the punk rocker, all with a story I’m sure
Many a brow is raised and resembles a plague of fox moth caterpillars at a rave party as he enters
In the up market drinking hole he’s as inconspicuous as a free roaming Emu in a supermarket
White collars fill the air with murmurings of big deals achieved and salary bumps
It’s a Friday afternoon and an air of animation is evident in the words of many
The banker orders another round; more beer and water promptly arrive
Concern is forwarded to his brother fearful of him falling in with the wrong crowd
Genuine unease for the circles of friends in which he chooses to associate with
Party drugs, binge drinking, womanising and all night benders all entrenched in his everyday life
Why can’t you just go home to your wife baring flowers like you used to he asks?
A grunt is all he can muster as he swills on his beer, your losing touch with reality!
And then like a boxer waiting for his opening he hits him with a sympathetic plea for more money
A look as if his team had just lost the “Big One” with seconds remaining decorates his face
I can’t keep doing this he replies; He then calls their Mum “it’s time for intervention!”
The ink covered rocker is in tears as his brother embraces him; I love you he whispers together we will get through this
He escorts him to his private limousine waiting out front
One of the many perks of being an internationally acclaimed artist.
My manager knows this great facility…..
On the subject of road works in the Market Place, Devizes, England
Stuff’s happening in the Market Place
To really make folk cuss
Why isn’t there a parking space
And where’s the chuffin’ bus?
The traffic lights are stuck on red
It shouldn’t be like this
Park down Station Road instead?
Here’s something you can kiss
The long drive in from Long Street
Is a journey one may rue
Traffic jam, and save the feet
Or walk, and dodge the poo?
There are barriers by the chip shop
And the road looks really odd
Where can the hungry driver stop
To score a battered cod?
And, catch a bus outside the Bear?
That’s seriously confusing
A pop up pick up bus stop, where?
Change is not amusing
Damn those blokes in hi vis coats
For getting in the way
Some fat cat who got our votes
Has dug up Market Day
Why can’t it happen overnight
Can someone wave a wand
And some strange flowing spell recite
Whilst mooning by the pond?
Disrupted traffic, vain appeals
Bring back Devizes station!
Angry faces mouth at wheels
Expressions of frustration
Call them ruddy roadworks
When the ruddy road ain’t working?
More bollards than a Corn Bin night
(less twerking)
by Gail
It was late afternoon and my thoughts were arid
when it struck me that I needed a new vehicle
to drive my thoughts far enough, fast enough
to the eyes and ears unknowingly awaiting them.
A meticulous consumer, I did my homework,
took my time, snapping reverse angle pictures
of me behind each and every wheel, feeling
the newness with each nostril and furrowed brow.
I tried out a traditional, up market Sonnet first
and – despite how many virginities had been
lost in its back seat – it still felt more like
my father’s than my own.
The Ode was no better, enveloping the driver in
thick clouds of vaulted purpose,
only came with AM radio and was impossible
to get parts and accessories for.
The 180° rotating side mirrors on the Sestina
were eye catching but seemed distracting
to the driver on today’s winding roads
and tempted oncoming traffic to admire itself.
And while the Dylan Thomas signature model Villanelle
looked like a joy to play with, I honestly didn’t know
what I’d do with it, was aghast by how much it consumed
and feared for its resale value.
Towards the back of the lot was an endless sea
of Haiku – three stroke wonders - which seemed cramped
and even the full-sized Tanka left me unconvinced
about how much leg room there really was.
With a blood orange evening tumbling ripe towards the Earth,
I bent to tie my shoes, scurried through a ditch
to Green Street and let the incandescent night fade in to
guide me, illuminating most of the street signs and
cheap hotels between "here" and wherever "there" was,
noting with interest one clap board place where “No”
was blacked out on its sign vacancy sign, its steps crooked
with time, a saxophone sighing through its open door.
If I was a rich man
I would buy up market friends
Follow all the new trends
Drive the latest Mercedes Benz
Service myself with greed
Consume more than I need
But if I am honest to myself and true
What I would really love to do
Is buy back time
Take a completely different view
You see to me my biggest regret is that I realized to late
The bounty of love set at my plate
As the cancer took took care of that fate
Familiarity breeds contempt is what he always meant
And when he eventually took his breath his life finally spent
It came abundantly clear what familiarity breeds contempt really meant
When you show love to late your left with only crumbs on your plate
For in reality a truly rich man to this will attest
He has very few friends
Drives a bus not a Benz
Rather lived out his life to atone to amend
In the hope come the day the bitter end
Reading his obituary
Those he loved the most loved him back the most
They all pranced through some broad-like avenue
and they've placed apart from each other's course
proved they stood full of airs and graces view
from cameras balanced by those they knew
endmost part of the resplendent concourse
Those cut-and-dried to flick those cameras
for the whole world's glimpse with covetous stares
furthered their verve-like, polyamorous
stayed flamboyance and maintained glamourous
those who've known, curved away their classic glares.
They've prolonged the night, they danced, fancy pants,
on stage, showboating like catamarans
him, up-market tux, her, something from France
news crews grew silent, now they had no chance
when finance asked, they became stammerers.
Gone Hollywood, have we, fashionable
they'd be high falutin' like Fig Newton
Nick Nack Paddy Whack give that dog a loan
his old man, "La-Di-Da", a rollin' Stone!
Man-o-man, how do you guys put it on?
Nouveau riche, --hardly, old money, --never
pretentious finance witnessed and confirmed
how can they survive, leave it to wander
or perhaps it could be dumped to wonder
still, they curved away, with chuckling affirmed.
Nonetheless, leave it to them, there's something
right or wrong, hear their song, da-da-da-DA!
Be this black-and-white world so defining
"Imagine all the people," imaging
the creme de la creme and the la-di-da.