17.9.2024, Tuesday,
Lunar calendar Middle Autumn Full Moon day.
The moon hangs up high in the dark but clear sky.
It is so full and bright.
I must have witnessed it,
For more than half a centenary at least,
I have been alone for nearly two decades,
But only tonight, looking at the moon
All I felt was lonely and sad.
Early this evening, I delivered to you a little bag,
Inside there was a letter which I wished you
To enjoy the traditional Full Moon festival,
The messages were written in reverse fashion,
Only you, the recipient can read it.
Because I have shown you this special trick,
It was returned without opening it,
Instead of replying to the messages.
I felt like playing ping pong with this stubborn person.
Queen Elizabeth II was her name
Quite familiar in the world was her fame!
Her Majesty was the fascination of the time
Hardly one may forget her face, in the lifetime!
Kindness was her message
Kingdom held her as the image!
World has loved her all these years
Why should she let the world into tears?
On her centenary, I awaited to greet
Oh! Heart pains, as I can't meet!!
With love she held everyone, like a mother
With love world shall remember her, forever!
Why should she undertook a different voyage?
Words fall short in my soul, to pay her homage!
All is relative, 2 and 2 are not 4,
but 22 ... an 8 is nothing else
that two 3 back one
to the other ... I0 in reverse
is Q.I not only ten, but many
combined figures, several
problems solved ...
Hundred with H, is a respectable value,
an honorable and eld centenary human being...
With S of sans, it's nothing ... nothing!
The zero 0, is a bigger brother of o ...
if accentuated, look and assembled in
o,?.ó.ó, o does not form a figure
but a row of regrets ...
Numbers compose numbers,
letters combine words.
Numbers count.
letters write ...
Well or worse things with them
happen, but this is also
relative ... and with that relativity,
we live ...!
my latest anti CCP turtle poem--
CCP Turtles Grassing Line
China’s virtual hotline
Report online remarks
Slander Communist Party history
Crack down “bygone nihilists”
Party’s 100th centenary July
Grass line allows society report
Netizens “twist” Party’s history
Attack governance policies
Denigrate national heroes
Deny superiority radical socialist nation
Clandestine motivations old nihilistic parodies
Malevolently garbling
Denigrating contradicting Party history
Internet operatives administering people
Devotedly report dangerous info
“Historical nothingness” public doubt distrust
Chinese Communist Party’s earlier dealings
China’s net forcefully censored
Overseas social media networks
Search engines news outlets forbidden
Penances persons conveyed
Netizens prison lawful punishments
Placement content acute
Nation’s leadership procedures antiquity
Legal amendments folks
“Slur smear invade on” memorial
China’s national heroes’ martyrs
Face three years gaol
The Centenary of Remembrance
The ranks of sunflowers follow the contours
Of the vale, marching across to the ridge in
The distance. Roots reach down into the
Rich soil, feeding greedily on the memories
Beneath.
Yellow faces turn and follow the sun as it
Arcs across the sky, warming the earth;
Fat droning bees inspect the poppies that
Hide beneath the tall stems, red and black
Yet invisible.
Dark clouds build across the blue sky shielding
The sun; black shadows mute the bright colours,
Misty rain begins to hide the regimented lines
And the air becomes sombre, sounds deadened,
The world lifeless.
In the distance, faintly, as though in another
Time, the sad notes of parting sound; and
The misty image blurs into row on row,
Simple crosses, remembrance of the fallen.
And the black eyes of the poppies shed a tear.
Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forays so fraught with fine failure;
forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
for folly to feud for a field.
Forced forwards with fleetness of foot;
firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Forces fight so ferociously,
fratricide set free on this field.
Forthright and filial feelings;
families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
Entered in Brian Strand's "Contest No 515".
(1st Place)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
Poetry
Aged eighty Joyce started to write
Her poems my senses ignite
Imagery so divine
I just wish it was mine
Great poetry brings such delight
Making Fudge
Joyce really loves making fresh fudge
I wonder if I give Joyce a nudge
She will send to me
Her fudge recipe
From my kitchen I would not budge!
Tulip Parade
Without Joyce being sat in her seat
The parade would not be complete
Gardens Joyce does promote
On the flower club float
Her zest for life cannot be beat!
Gardening club
Joyce travels to state garden shows
Her knowledge of plants overflows
It would be a great idea
In her centenary year
To honour her name with a rose
100th Birthday
All soupers we must now rejoice
And shout out with united voice
That we just want to say
Have happy Birthday
To a fabulous poet named Joyce
Happy 100th Birthday Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
4/18/18
Majestically sitting and driving jula with a self styled stick for walking
Orthodox favourite dress of woman you are in, keeps you glittering
Teeth still clinging to your mouth to help your glory of innocent smiling
Humorous you are around with children and grandchildren chatting
Enjoying your centenary birthday blossoming, but hiding your pain
RNarayanan your beloved, still blessing you all energy from heaven
Supermom you are and we all proudly adore you for your dedication
Divine slogans you recite keeps you refreshing every now and then
Amazing Mothers day celebration tuning us in joy turning to heaven
Your thoughts and services be our moral model of life! so we remain
Waving poppies, ruffled by the summer breeze, look up
At the deep sky and warm sun, pillows of clouds gentle
Contrast to the green below and the scattered red faces
With soul black eyes. Children’s voices ring like distant bells,
The sounds of happiness and the pleasures of life, undisturbed
By thoughts of harm.
But the flowers of the forest have no arching sky above
Only cold shadows and pools of dark water, with wriggling
Worms the only life. No laughing children lift the heart
And bring a happy smile, the distant bells a sombre cadence
That tolls for thee. No bright poppies shine in this decaying
World, only their soul black eyes.
And the lone piper plays his sad lament for
The Flowers of the Forest.
It is time to celebrate our nation centenary
Rebels for our nation we weren't born
Enshrining our visions for a united land
Leaving a legacy for each and every citizen
Accept this gift of freedom that was fought
Never forget that in our nation darkest hour
Deep within us let us be proud of being Irish
It is time to celebrate our nation centenary
Reaching a point which is our historical
Every Irish citizen by birth or by ancestry
Looking forwards to those brighter days
Against the darkest days where we were
Never forget the cost for freedom fought
Deep within our heart Ireland will live on
Dig no more for the chains of his grey haired heart
keeping his bones away from the common cart
A wild man who caught and sang the sun in flight
raging going not gentle to that good night
Time holds him still green dead owl crossed on his way
even his glazed blazing meteor eyes were so gay
Simple Welshman not for this proud man apart
love its arms no praise wages for craft or art
Tell on the streets on its back he threw the sun
singing in his chains to there the sea undone
They say never trust a man who does not drink
Dylan Thomas did his best do you not think
Dylan Thomas this his centenary
born on October 27 1914
One of the worlds best poets
They answered the call,
From afar, they came one and all.
Young Lions, they came to give chase,
On the fields of Europe, enemies they faced.
Murderous fire rained down as they came ashore,
Thousands lay down, their lives were no more.
Fields soaked in blood, of both friend and foe,
The young men died as they fought toe to toe.
Streets were covered with rubble and blood,
Places where houses and folk once stood.
Blasted by shells from tank and plane
Many died there, never to rise again.
This hateful time of war with it's tragic waste,
How long will it run this terrible disgrace.
Is war here forever? Are we doomed to fight?
Men & boys in their fear, die, both day & night.
Kill or be killed, you hear them say,
Kill or be killed, just to last out the day.
That boy over there, shooting at you,
Cries for his Mother, just like you do too.
Oh please stop the carnage we see through the dust,
Lay down your arms, say enough is enough
Let quiet descend on the killing ground,
With a tear filled cry let peace be crowned
My Centenary poem for the Fallen in War 1914-2014
© Dave Timperley October 2014
Centenary
100 years since that war and the mighty are dressed
in their fine uniforms and holding hollow speeches.
For some the strutting about is triumphalism, but we
cannot say so, but the British and French feel smug.
The rusty/ gold prince is there too and his underlings
have tearful eyes, he is so elegant and has tons of
self assurance. There are many other royals too but
the TV dwell mostly on the British nobles, this mainly
because they know how to wear a uniform with style.
This glorifying of war showing of the latest weaponry
buying and selling of deaths while we say things like:
“We must not forget.” Forget what! This ***********
of violence on our screen day and night, yet we must
not mention the reasons, money lent and money borrowed.
As for now a river of blood runs in Gaza.
Scores of suffering
stalwart soldiers stand steadfast
in scarlet-soaked soil
-----------------
(C) John C Michaels, 2014
Submitted on the centenary of The Great War (4th August 2014), in memory of the sacrifice
of those who are no longer with us and to whom we owe so much.
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