When will the sky sing to the abandoned arcs of my sonnets?
They remain subtle, yet soul-stolen by the sea of stone,
Could those storms stitch the sublime shimmer sinking through,
Silent yet sudden, secretly sensational,
I’ll play the rays you lusciously left longing for this momentum,
Breathing brassy beams barely breakable by the blades of the blaze,
Teach me the tunes of your truth,
Call me into your chaos with my delusions,
Kiss me when the sun sleeps,
Wear me as the moon dreams,
Hold the crying clouds over the vengeance of our vulnerabilities,
The furious fall is further than we dare speak of,
Let your bones bear the crown I seek to bestow,
For the bolted iron ornaments house the hologram of my ebony emerald enchantments.
Lucy was a ladybug with a polka-dot chassie,
whose manners were totally sassy;
she’d sip morning dew
like a grand dame would do,
and declare every leaf most tres chic, brassy.
Pumpkin flowers, opened new in morning light,
Will never fail to catch the eyes of passers by
With large and yellow petals of pure delight
Like little suns, they humbly open where they lie,
Dotted along a wreath of green and dappled leaves
(And herald there a winter's warm and fragrant pie!)
Through foliage dense and lush, yellow trumpets weave
Like cornets all at play, a brassy, silent trail,
Bells for tiny carriages for any who believe
In deep green seas, where golden floral boats sail,
Seaweed tendrils reaching down to fathoms deep
And sailors in yellow hats, hearty and hale.
Then they close, curl up, as though gone back to sleep.
Passers by continue, along the winding creek.
In the theater of the humming afternoon,
where sunbeams strike the anvil-sky
and thunder plays its jagged, brassy tune,
I walk beneath a muted, violet eye.
Here, the roaring river’s silver spine
is broken, draped in heavy, woolen air.
The band—a roaring, rushing, loud design—
forgets to tell the secrets hidden there.
I shout, but my voice is stolen by a ghost,
a vacuum-mouth that drinks the sonic bloom.
The roaring chaos bows to a silent host,
a quiet tear inside a noisy room.
A velvet shadow, cast by unseen walls,
where trembling echoes die before they wake.
The loudest hush that ever softly falls,
within a dream, a breath I cannot take.
Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy
Kowtow & kapow..the Bazball supernova
They think it’s all over…well wow it is now
Cool cat merriment to cricket’s detriment
Down tools school for fools experiment
Mules without rules serious impediment
Flunk their funk mission to debunk tradition
Teach each Baz monk flair pizzazz edition
Preach razmattazz and all that jazz sedition
Slam dunk sunk kerplunk fans in remission
Shan’t exult this odd bod Bazball adult cult
Can’t halt Starc’s hefty lefty catapult assault
Another hilarious result and nefarious insult
Inquests as Aussie test conquests take their toll
Pat patrol in control Ben’s men droll rigmarole
Stole our soul so gonna give them some vitriol
Banished to a grassy knole the Bazball totem pole
Farce whole brassy class vanished up their ar*ehole
No need to mull it is time for a cull heads must roll
Cos in Oz they Can’t bat Can’t field and Can’t bowl
Awe & shock bowlers in the dock our warlock & glock “the judge”
Rapscallion and stallion wrangling with dangling golden medallion
Facing the pacing battalion on our latest sinking Caribbean galleon
Our burly oracle with each follicle so curly a rock that won't budge
In that 90’s dungeon Robin our classy curmudgeon brassy bludgeon
Truncheon fine dining on a hurly burly Courtenay & Curtly luncheon
Calms alarms and qualms delivers us from harm with stoic heroic psalms
Call to arms more like baobabs than palms those offside charms “the Judge”
Speedsters scary & lairy others wary prime time for our hairy chest fairy
Robin our pace Pontiff willow ace not a whiff or a riff or sniff of what if
Believers in his jobbing levers will go biff in any tiff that's the pith of Smith
Not just a county squire but quite possibly the ultimate Hampshire Sire
Calling card hit it so hard earned the fable label of both BATman & Robin
Hall of fame name can’t smudge hats doff to a complete one off “the Judge”
Alright still gobsmacked how we were
Attacked..hacked..hijacked...whacked
Ransacked cracked shellacked poleaxed
By his relaxed Rat packed knack maxed
So here's a witty ditty ode to Travis
No ifs or buts can't tut tut... annul it or cull it
Straight out of the hut a classy brassy strut
Gung ho have a go heave ho maestro Mullet
Slaying & flaying.. no rut just a glorious glut
Left a stark dark smut.. every bowler's a mutt
Like some flirty dirty sl*t playing with the nut
Hard not to swoon at the boon of the loon
Croon at Travis's off his Head buffoon tune
Stubby not chubby tad tubby like David Boon
Us staunch fans of the promising paunch gasping
Can't snub or sub.. like a lad down the pub or club
Another out of whack attack does launch rasping
Rogue's Bogan brogue.. flashes his blade like Shogun
Wizard of Oz as loved as X men's Logan or Paul Hogan
Dashes and lashes.."Taches win Ashes" the Travis slogan
Jazzy brassy voice
I scream in blue tones
I dance to fill the void
Buttons like backbones
I’m the woman you love
Can’t get me off your mind
I sing with your every touch
Improv I drink like wine
Oh, drive me please where I can gaze
Upon the fields of sheep a’graze
Or taking time to dream and laze
On blankets green and grassy.
So far from New York’s jam-packed roads
With cars and semis schlepping loads,
Ignoring all the traffic codes,
The drivers bold and brassy.
A bold reminder are the sheep
That every baa instead of beep
Allows your soul the chance to keep
Its outlook soft and sassy.
Satsuma Tumour
Sense of Humour?
That Groomer Rumour
Cometh the Hour
Cometh the TAN!
People Power Glower should Flower
Grassy brassy knolls
But proles at the polls
Sold their Souls
To joust like Faust
Ignore Marcel Proust
Cower before the Ivory Tower
Odd bod elite’s law
Tweets of Sod and God
No Enlightening
Repeats the prism
Or algorithm beats
Every criticism schism
“Ism”..a frightening..lightning rod
Pot..black..kettle knack
Debauched cheats pedal to the metal
Out of whack flak attack
Unsettle our mettle
Plot to settle that score
Scorched and torched serfs
Any petal in fine fettle
& the earth's core
"Death is the mother of beauty;"
Death
as nothing is
not separate from
beauty~
death is
mother appearing
as beauty~
resulting in This
as it is~~~
She says, “But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss.”
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.
~~Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning
Every pirate west of the Caribbean had heard of Captain Gary Bee.
He was reputed to be way younger than the next captain at twenty-three.
We were anxious to meet him, so we invited him to tea.
He strutted in with short pants, that barely covered up a knee.
It is rude to ask pirate captains their age, so we did not.
But he could not have been a decade older than a tot.
He spoke with polish and finesse', was unassuming and not brassy.
After a lunch of bean curd and bean salad, he was a bit gassy.
Excuse me! He said after each burp, belch and break of wind.
We thought he was delightful; he became an instant friend.
Captain Gary Bee, the notorious pirate king of the seven Seas
I was glad he decided to stop in often for our cakes and teas.
When I can’t think of anything else to draw
I draw boxes
They lead to swirls, stars, flowers, elves, faeries and mushroom houses
When I can’t think of words to pen, I write down verbs and adverbs
Jumping, whirling, swirling, glassy, classy, brassy, hopping, skipping words
When my painting muse is stuck, I reach for my orange
She is my go-to color
Orange leads to turquoise
Turquoise leads to red
Red leads to yellow
Yellow leads to green
I have a pattern
It is a method that works for me
Greet me--Spring sprite,
fresh, docile smile,
whose whispers woo
with hymns of lover's tune.
Enamor me with fizzy phrases;
As doting night enthralls,
with stars,
the bashful moon.
Cove me within
thy bossom's veil
of plusing neverending
blazing charm.
Congenial hover, as clouds do
to pacify and gently soothe
the brassy, heated,
brazen flaming sun.
Dreach my dreams
with valiant gales
of furor baron's
kisses gained.
Like Nature's gift of life,
revive the plains' drought
with cloudburst of
Heaven's inundating rain.
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