Don’t start a game ending in death,
Something there: forfeiture of breath!
Don’t mind Superstar Bruce Lee,
His Game of Death Kung Fu we see.
Next, the player lodged in some heath,
To The Living Death: Living Threat!”
Don’t think of a game marked by risk.
The sort guys start and taste the whisk
“You’re a rogue who’d begun to frisk:
You were breathing fast, your steps brisk!”
Great hopes from games lovers treasure:
Don’t think its pleasure a measure:
You wrongly measure its pleasure,
Games should often be for leisure…
Addressed I have one’s intellect:
A message for it to collect.
his nose was distracting
but so was mine
i listened to it ; in the car on the way
there
the bass was in my brain
what if he'd never heard it?
the questions kept coming
questions about
stuff
thinking about the book of judges
i saw paintings
i followed him home
hid beneath the window pane
but heard nothing
i didn't get the job
Poet& hymnist Michael Bruce
whose verse was rarely obtuse
In many ways a 'Keats in padallel'
dying too yoing of consumption a well
Michael Bruce was poet so free
dying too soon with TB
Best known for ' Ode to the Cuckoo'
perhaps 'Lochleven' the best in view
I am waiting
For the colonists’ offspring
To see.
See what’s already there.
Been there decades,
hundreds and thousands of years.
Brewarrina. Birrngi-Bream.
Condah. Tuupuurn-Galaxis.
Bolac. Smoked eels.
Curly Mitchell Grass.
Nodding Greenhoods.
Yam Daisy-Murnong.
Budj Bim.
World Heritage.
Right here!
Dark Emu.
Read it.
Grasp the future.
Don’t wait.
Act.
Thrive.
Bruce was a hard taskmaster
Who ordered his staff to work faster
The faster they went
Bruce would not relent
Causing a major disaster
The Bruce Lee’s days was a kun fu stage. His fighting style lasted for quite a while. His hits and kicks was used with his slashing sticks. As he screams and screams, he takes over his dragon dreams. Did you know that he was a fantastic dancer with a tad touch from a bee’s stinger. Bruce Lee had set mind goals in movie scripts he stole. He had motivation with God’s spirit who fought in a wonderful creation. He loved nature and his chinese culture. Bruce Lee is a eye of strength that will always see. He will always be remembered and will flow with the wind in un change hindered.
Beneath this green sod, lies
my Cousin Bruce.
It's true, his mother called him
'Silly Goose.'
Oh, that Nordic DNA, those
gorgeous blue eyes, and sense
of humor.
A skier and a Porsche race car
driver, he grew up to be.
Always filled with humor and
a genuine love for humanity.
Leukemia took his life at forty.
He serves God now, in grateful
and glowing, angelic glory.
July 10, 2019
11: 20am PST
Friends from the Lutheran church got together,
We decided to hike on the Bruce Trail,
i walked with my friend Axel,
We were friends along the trail and we were completely quiet.
Traveled on the rugged terrain,
The scenery was beautiful.
He is very athletic and handsome,
i enjoyed walking very much.
His parents and my parents were good friends,
We used to visit them at their pretty house.
They had a guest house in their garden,
And had an extensive garden.
We would visit and have a delicious coffee,
Mrs. Kleer would bake a delicious cake.
There was a beautiful piano in the sitting room,
Roland would play the piano.
The hike on the Bruce Trail was twenty-five miles,
We each received a badge upon completion.
The beauty of the Canadian scenery could be seen,
You simply enjoyed being there.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz.
The Adventures of Bruce the Moose ©
When Bruce the moose gets on the loose
Out running across our highways
He gambles a lot, but, never been caught
Reaching the other sides always.
Bruce the moose out on the loose
Has outrun wardens all over
From Vancouver B.C. to St. John’s town
He outruns them all no matter.
When Bruce the moose goes on the loose
He’s a very smart moose is Bruce
Running away from the wardens who prey
All evenings, nights and every day.
Now, Bruce the moose is quite clever;
He out runs trucks, wardens and cars
And out on the loose, he’s quite the moosey
Searching around for Miss Lucy
W.C.Hull © 2018-25-7-1034 (Humor Beat)
Bruce the golden koi...
the great white shark of the pond
— culling of koi fry
5/2/2018
Just a big overgrown kid, my Bruce
Wanting to hit the road and vamoose
Dreams of conducting a caboose
Go all the way up to Toulouse
Bruce refuses to grow up, what’s the use
He can rhyme off one of many old excuse
And sometimes swears to All and to Zeus
Bruce wasn’t always this way, something came loose
He’s become simple yet ever so abstruse
Can’t differentiate a moose from a goose
Doesn’t have a clue what to do with his papoose
The best we could do was come to a truce
Now they both get an afternoon nap after their juice
Sometimes I feel like a recluse
But never a victim of abuse
Or that life dealt me a deuce
When Bruce smiles he can still seduce
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
I will stand in the heather,
I will stand in the glen,
I'll defend my Bannockburn,
With horse, pike and men.
As Bruce I command,
As Robert I will die,
But not on this day,
For English souls rise to the sky.
Remove them I will,
Send them o'er the hill,
Past Stirling and Falkirk,
Back to England yet still.
As Scots' we are strong,
Edward be damned wrong,
Tae' think he will be victor,
Today he is gone.
Seton gave me the clue,
Schiltron's stood fast and true,
Horsemen and Bowmen,
Fought as they knew,
That Scotland could prove,
It would rule through and through,
Without English invaders,
Marching on my moor.
Many lie dead,
Both English and Brave Scots',
But Edward is gone,
His army bloodied and lost.
Back to their home,
And leave mine tae' me,
At Bannockburn we stood,
And held Victory.
Graham Alexander Devenish
Of John Bruce, the poet, and Grayson Perry's exhibition, 'The Vanity of Small Differences'...
Outside looking in
From John’s pocket moths appear
As violins weep
Beggars from the pavement see
Art through a glass darkly
Grayson’s woven tales
Of social mobility
Inaccessible
Myths of the tapestries lost
To legend and irony
Illicit colours
Seep through windows to the street
Teasing, beautiful
Sweet tale of the poet’s life
John Bruce; tantalised by light
by Gail
There was an old lady from Shallot
T'was good with a driver and mallot
She worked with a hammer
She spoke with a stammer
That old she's a HE from from shallot!
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