She snores a bit,
but that's okay, together
we form the horn section
of a Brass Band.
At dawn
we practice together,
bending the knees,
and oiling joints with syrup
and black coffee.
When the sun climbs over
the oak in the backyard
I go my way, walking out
on my plodding paths,
she makes cupcakes
for the fairies that our neighbor
fervently believes
inhabit her hungry soul.
I have a few friendly demons,
and some drinking buddies.
In the late morning
I write stuff.
When evening
shuts our bodies down,
we sleep curled-up
in twill and puff
rolling our guttering togues
into the same
snore-along melody.
Iridescent sea glass is spit out onto warm sand
Without fanfare, no spokesperson, no brass band
Milky creamy beach rocks, in no way bland
Stacked in a gorgeous pile, rocks polished and fanned.
I saw a poet looking gray and down,
So, I asked him, what was the matter?
He whined he wasn’t being read, there
was little, if any chatter.
A poet writes, yes, but should not expect
a big brass band.
He was flustered with me, I could see,
and broke the pencil in his hand.
Keep a list of those who comment,
be sure you do reciprocate at their
poetry gate!
I don’t know if he heard me, his skin
became quite ashen.
He told me of sad experiences where
other poets took great joy in nasty
character bashin’!
A tear rolled down his hot cheeks and
I said “welcome to the world.”
Write on, like a warrior, your head high,
And your poetry flag,forever unfurled.
For God sees each poem you create.
After all, twas He who gave you the
gift to write at all,mate!
He knows quite well of your pain.
What’s more He sees your great
progress and gains!
3/9/2023
The Donkey of Destiny
The party was set, the guests were invited,
The adults were happy, the kids all excited.
All going to plan; the hosts were delighted,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
The Board of Directors set forth their campaign,
To conquer their industry, supremely reign,
To guarantee ultimate financial gain,
Til the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
Military leaders made their decision,
Troops were deployed with painstaking precision.
Soon they would realise their tactical vision,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
To amuse the young children, a day out was planned,
Buckets and spades and sunshine and sand.
Ice-cream and fish-and-chips; seaside brass band,
But the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
There’s nothing as fickle as Destiny’s Donkey,
Capricious as weather, and sly as a monkey,
Be certain that everyone’s hopes will turn funky,
When the Donkey of Destiny brays – he-haw!
When the Donkey of Destiny brays.
The fey were excited and they had a big brass band.
They were speaking of green mole house in autumn land.
But what is it? I asked, as I took my feet out of wet sand.
It is where delicacies and jellies are pickled and canned.
There is a mole there named Wizardly Dastardly Dan.
He will help you put up produce in jars as fast as you can.
Oh yes! Yelled a brownie and an elf. “Dan is the man!”
I watched them serenade each other with a wink and a fan.
Wait a second! What else does Wizardly Dastardly Dan do?
He is a cobbler and a miner. He can fix your left shoe.
I looked at my shoe whose heel was off. It was torn too.
I think I should go there now. Yes, this is what I will do!
Halloween elves are in training for Halloween land.
They stack the pumpkins, in spite of a big brass band.
Here they are now! Let’s give them an appreciative hand!
Yelled the Jack-o-lantern King, Mr. Spookie B. Dand.
They are stacking up the pumpkins from floor to ceiling.
They are leaning against the roof which is peeling.
I have a crazy, weird, uncomfortable feeling
That when they come down, our heads will be reeling.
The rain swept across the name
Of 1st AIF and a digger’s fame
Who crossed the seas to our acclaim
Such an adventure to be had he proclaimed
But there was no glory to be found
In the the trenches and the guns pounding sound
He had waited for the officers call
And mounted the trench and charge one for all
But he was cut by a bullet and fell down
Wounded in the stomach without a sound
The stretcher bearers found him in a shell hole
Clinging to life pain now his all
They shipped him by boat to Old England
To a London hospital with no brass band
The telegram said he was wounded bad
His mother read it and cried so sad
And he died one night a nurse by his bed
Away from the Southern Land where tears were shed
So here he lies away from his home
Under a plain white soldier’s headstone.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Saw a blurb on MetFest
Held today, at the museum.*
Musical performances
Outdoors – I had to see ‘em.
A former stomping ground
Pre-Covid, but it’s been a while.
Once there, ‘twas like I never left;
I couldn’t help but smile.
The melting pot that is New York
Was fully there on view,
A pleasure to observe and yes,
Some upbeat music, too.
A group of female drummers
Followed by a cool brass band,
Then a bunch of Double Dutchers
With their jump rope skills on hand.
The locals and the tourists
All applauded, laughed and danced,
Toddlers, teens to wheelchair seniors,
Every passerby entranced.
Vendors set up on the sidewalks,
Food carts had their treats to hawk;
What a lovely day in sunshine
At the MetFest in New Yawk.
*Metropolitan Museum of Art
Patriotism and Holidays seem to go hand-in-hand
Fire up the BBQ; strike up the brass band
Picnics down by the lakeside; it's all mighty grand
Though I'd rather be known for my love of this land
Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud,
Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud,
Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand,
Golden frame of a sea cradled land.
Fishing village, atmospheric hub,
Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub,
Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall,
Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool.
Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge,
Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge,
Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill,
Buzzards soar and wise hares are still.
Tin mine engine house, towering stack,
Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back,
White clay peak, geometrical and sleek,
Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep.
Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn,
Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune,
Tor and beacon, barrow and mound,
You’re in God’s own country,
When you walk this ground.
Today's Sounds
Music rolls off the banjo, bluegrass
Active cheery sound, gland it’s around,
Folk music in little town passed down by word of mouth;
Family remembers and other people too, and songs abound.
Symphony sounds dynamic notes through the grand hall,
Aria Nessun Dorma rapturous great joy emotion,
Opera transports to a lofty feeling, heavenly classical,
Piano music and classical guitar uplifting feeling locomotion.
Listen, echoing 14th century chant cathedral music,
Hymn captivating, baroque music alive to this day,
History’s not historical, it’s not even past; and organ rolls on,
Waltz smoothly wafts across the air through the dance hall bay.
Ice cream parlor music cheerful tunes with hot fudge sundae,
Oldies music reminiscence rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, country and western feeling,
Big band dance music, rhythm and blues, brass band thrill,
Gospel music, spirituals, and blues, highland healing.
Motion picture music score jumps high fidelity positive
Enjoyment, touching stereo button to instrumental music roll,
Relax in the day, easy listening music comfortable rest,
Sound waves motions ear drums, people listen alive soul.
A Prayer Answered
I used to live in a bubble, fun filled and care free
But now my life is similar to autumn leaves under an oak tree
My daughter’s funeral music echoing from the brass band
Heap by heap her grave is filled with sand
“God how am I suppose too carry on?”
Death is so final, my daughter is forever gone!
She was so brave yet so small,
If fighting could be measured, she would stand tall
“God answer me, give me a sign!”
“And please don’t tell me it would all be revealed in time”
“My child why so angry, I answered you even before you asked.
Seven years ago, you married a brown eyed girl I assigned to a task.
She will be the pillow when you weep.
Share your nightmares when you can’t sleep
She will be your pillar of strength when you fall apart.
Pick up the pieces and carry in her pocket your broken heart.”
Goodbye my child, I am the sinner but God called upon you.
Your life was so short, the years didn't even tick till two.
Goodbye my child, as you listening from above to the brass band,
Your coffin in the ground, me frantically filling your grave with sand!
Goodbye my child, I am crying but have to let you go.
Your curtain has fallen, it is the end of your "live" show
Goodbye my child, this is the end but also a new start,
You an angel now, watching over us, our personal guard.
Goodbye my child, you took my heart with you when you died,
Goodbye my child, goodbye
Can you still remember the first time we had our valentines day?
The day when you asked me to come to your brass band practice?
The day you first claimed me to everyone?
The day when everyone thought that there's already an us?
Can you still remember the feelings?
The feelings that's full of those romantic excitements?
The feelings that started from a simple infatuation?
The feelings that now turned into real love?
The feelings that still binds us together?
Can you still remember the struggles we've been through?
The struggles that causes us too much pain?
The stuggles that's pulling us down?
The struggles that's trying to tear us apart?
The struggles that no matter what it does to us, still we keeps on fighting?
Can you still remember how much we love each before?
I hope you do.
Because looking back from the moment we've learned that we love each other;
It constantly deepens the love I'm feeling for you as seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years passed by.
I love you so much dhie to infinity and beyond.
We'll never back down I promise you that.
#You'reAlwaysBeMyForever
#AljeaToInfinityAndBeyond
#7thValentinesTogether
Sol ascends, yet there's no brass band,
merely some shouts from drunks by the pool.
And it's one more day of sun and sand,
here upon this tropical jewel.
As I scan the sea for more cruise ships,
waves tickle my feet in frothy foam.
And salty droplets sting crackling lips,
as sunrise blankets the reef in chrome.
On a beach of coral and limestone,
happiness is purchased every day.
Coming from regions unknown, folks flock
to this island paradise to play.
The air's heated by a ball of flame,
an energizing force; no man owns.
And yet, each day, it's more of the same,
I crave the wind, rain, and wild cyclones.
Tourists wake to their dream in the sun,
and it's time to don my happy face.
For they remind me my day's begun,
as I crack a smile and pimp this place.
(Quatrain)
8/30/2017
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