Next door was a paddock
of long grass and a graveyard
for dumped machinery.
Rusted out boilers, cogs, wheels
and huge presses were piled high
and begged for the sure foot
of a boy to climb and boast
the height.
Strange, twisted shapes
held a pose that seemed to freeze
the agony of being broken apart.
Sinews of wire cable hung
from joints in frayed strands
as if torn out of sockets.
Grease oozed from cracks
like congealed blood.
Nothing seemed to fit
a species familiar to a boy,
each part a mystery as to what
beast it belonged.
There were holes big enough
too fit a head, throated cavities
that harbored unknown echoes
and pipes that would hold
a haunting note when struck
with a stick.
One afternoon on coming home
from school, there was nothing
left but a cleared block.
Everything had been carted away.
A workman told my Mum
that snakes had crawled out
of the place where I used to play.
Categories:
boilers, childhood, memory, nostalgia, places,
Form: Free verse
Cicely Catherine Charlotte,
Child of a cosmopolitan century,
Captain of the cruise vessel
Cooling its boilers in the cove.
Cicely dispensing catnip
creates crazy feline
cuckoo climbing, jumping with
crack me up comedy, provided free.
Conjuring cat creativity
catnip can’t cleverly control;
calamity aboard a cruise ship.
In crystal dreams of cat-hood
colors writhe in catnip fields
containing cat-antics, a
cabal of cat’tastic
conjuring cats.
Consequentially, the not-so-cute problem
cast upon the ships crew
causes a great cleaning bill
cleaving its way into my cruise line
capital when, cute catnip filled kitties
cast cat-cookies and crap on the carpets.
Cleaning is by no means cathartic;
coughed up catnip-furballs, neither.
Even worse when cats like eating Cajun food;
coloring the ships carpets a saffron red.
Crafty cleaners, I suppose
could create some conquering detergent but, the
cost could easily run sky high,
for calamity cat’s cursed ills, so
cruise ships might best consider not
allowing cruises with cats.
Categories:
boilers, animal, boat, cat, fun,
Form: Alliteration
100ft. under the paving, 100f o into work.
Heat attacks via, boilers, stoves & grill.
Languages thrash & assail the ears,
Chilling the blood of the faint hearted.
Why do it? Fulfil artists quest?
Unpaid by the guests our two hours of stress,
Hours of prep functions of 100’s demand,
Bins of ‘turned’ spuds, sacks full of veg,
Work for the youngsters learning the trade,
Guided by elders experienced & skilled.
Stay alert for 'the orders'; answer "toute d’suite”
Ever aware of high standard’s demand.
Teamwork smooths edges, as tensions rise,
‘Tools’, armed for battle with soup, fish, or roasts.
Satisfying those titled, indulging & spoilt.
With training & practice, dexterity grows,
With passion helps the designs shine.
The gifts gained last us a lifetime,
For the staff & customers; ‘sometimes’.
The pay-back of skill's greater than pay.
Categories:
boilers, work,
Form: Free verse
Funnily it is the shame of sham that shampoo runs away down a drain. Oh dear. What an absolute disaster for the many supporting bottles bearing differing names. Nevertheless it is the revered gel that will last in its cast of sachet. No problems with dressing up an updo update upon upcoming uniqueness. Dares to be a giant hippopotamus in a bathing suit waving. Wave back then. Go on or he or she will be unhappy. Oh dear. Oglala's originals organised organs. No keyboards though. Standing sipping seeding seedlings. Stew. Hahahaha and boiled boilers booking. Hahahaha mystified parrots peering. Hahahaha and an onion skin eating its breakfast. *** unification z
Categories:
boilers, anniversary,
Form: I do not know?
Debris
There was a time when I was a seaman travelled with
a cardboard suitcase and my best shoes wrapped in newspaper.
I always wore khaki mainly because people would think I was
an American, back then I thought it a great country; still great but
But her leaders look like nine to five clerks.
I have read many books but mostly cheep pot boilers.
Due to my shyness spent most time in my cabin and left my ship
when there was no more to read. I did developed a fondness for
Hemingway he never overwrote is books.
But for me reading had its hidden hazard as I tended to become
the person I read about.
I once read a report about me it said I was grumpy drank too much
- I must have been reading Hemingway at the time and had no social
skills and never mixed with others. I was a lousy seaman and only
enjoyed going ashore places I had read about and had an historical
meaning I could connect with. Well all this is in the past I was not to
know I was ill and introversion is a burden.
Categories:
boilers, allegory, appreciation, assonance, autumn,
Form: Blank verse
The night of the living dead is coming…
Take heed and lock your doors
The witch trains blow the whistles
As they leave the devils jaws.
He strikes the boilers on this night
He lets the witches catch his prey.
They dress as zombie’s ghouls and ghosts
But they are here to take you away
The witch trains come to take your mind
The bokor controls your undead life.
The devil sends the zombie’s
For undead flesh to hand out strife.
The zombie has no thoughts to own
He is controlled by higher authority.
So lock your doors on the night of the dead
Or the zombie will come and take thee.
Use your mind, the one God gave you
Put thoughts of good into your head
Revile the zombie that eats your brain
You don’t want to end up a living dead.
© GG 15/10/2013
In south Africa the .witch trains. were believed to be staffed by Zombie workers controlled by witches that took the night time passengers and turned them into zombie slaves.
In Vodou Bokor is a sorcerer that revives the dead and controls the mind.
Categories:
boilers, halloween,
Form: Quatrain
Sunshine and stormy weather,
From egg,to feather,
Grains until I am matured,
Off to the boilers for sure,
Cluck,cluck,cluck no more,
Chopped or bi-sect in four,
Leg,wing and thigh,
Jerk,bar-b-que or fry,
Brown stew or curry,
Get me ready in a hurry,
Natural seasoning or powder spice,
Finger licking,I am so nice,
Rice and peas or mashed potato,
Done at home or nicely catered.......
Categories:
boilers, food, funny,
Form: Rhyme
IS THE END NEAR?
This civilization resourceful and strong, disrupt and destroy as they go along
Scientist’s try very hard to get by, hysteria still brings a scream to the sky
A ceremony performed to bury our dead, savagely killed or died in their beds
Anxiety makes us aware of all things; even the birds can’t be bothered to sing
This dilemma will pass but what will it leave?
A man with the answer tucked up his sleeve.
No furnace, no boilers and no one alive, is our civilization doomed soon to die?
Categories:
boilers, life
Form: I do not know?
amidst the thunder and the thuds
of boilers and blocks panting evermore
in a halcyon sea, the territorial gulls
shriek their high-pitched sadness as they soar.
and all throughout the gray outline
the groaning of the waves are heard,
as steel slices through the blackish brine
and lonely hearts are stirred.
Categories:
boilers, introspection
Form: Rhyme