So will Ben be back to lead his men?
Stacks of hacks chiding with their pen
Question all asking time & time again!
Key and Baz hiding in their ECB den
Riled echo chamber dialled up to ten
Let us know and if not now then when!
Fall of Bazball no longer a verdant glen
Now bogged down in a waterlogged fen
Astounds as Baz all about pounds or yen
Folks a coup by you know who should ken
Stokes came first not the egg but’s the hen
Spicier than wasabi with his kemosabe zen
ECB on their tod as it all crumbles yet again
So odd sod the fans & their God called Ben
If is the end than ECB to hell we send Amen
Shades of grey cascades on rainy days
Petrichor reigns after each pitter patter
Radiance of earthy fragrance does flatter
Teardrops down panes.. splitter splatter
Fades to whiffs chiding riffs spit scatter
Forever about weather they do natter
Seems the one thing that does matter
Flowers cowers at showers which batter
Tiffs as petal in fine fettle does shatter
Down trodden by a sodden mad hatter
Raised bed fed on shed drops clatter
Spoils for alluvial soils a pluvial platter
Some veg in tatters others seem fatter
Folks chitter chatter.. prefer the latter
Cumulus nimbus nimbly flitter & flutter
Sunrays grasp after a last gasp stutter
Sliding gliding riding wooden shutter
Rasp of uncouth din off a roof of tin
Staccato rinse & repeat beat does utter
Burgling drains & gurgling in the gutter
Huddles of puddles cuddle and splutter
Parched Earth’s skin softens like butter
Mother Nature's own homegrown nutter
Folks groan have to clear up soaked clutter
Mumble prone to moan but not a tut tutter
Mustn't grumble need the tumble they mutter
It’s all boiled up and caked up
Lands weep and rivers cry out loud,
Puking withered currents that rather hide
Than run
Cornstalks, excoriated and wounded,
Are scolded by thunder at night,
And lightning brandishes the whiplash of its
Whitish tongue, chiding the frightened rocks nearby.
It has not rained in seasons.
It has not dropped.
Not one drop.
But standards keep falling —
And dropping.
He sat upon a stool
In a bar, of all places
Three men surrounded
Chiding TRUTH for her choice
A cowboy can NOT wear a crown
With his meek and mild ways
Who builds his castle
In a field where wild beast graze
Riches stepped forward
And presented houses, cars
Degrees, and exploration
Fame highlighted name brands,
Tours, recognition, replication
Then glory shone forth praise,
Adoration, and dedication
But TRUTH saw no connection
....suddenly, they charged forth,
enacting their MATTER BASED insurrection
As TRUTH stood by WORD
Declaring, "I CHOOSE HIM."
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-28-2025
A woodpecker pecked on our siding
And likely, won’t listen to chiding.
He left a few holes
Beyond our controls
In a place where we’re partly residing.
An expert came by for assessing
The damage where Woody’d been messing.
He spritzed with a spray
But could not really say
Why he’d pecked there, without simply guessing.
Our house by huge trees is surrounded,
So I am completely confounded
As to why all that wood
Wouldn’t seem just as good
As the siding on which he had pounded.
The Girl I'm Infatuated With
The girl I am infatuated with
Tells her friends that she ignores my advances.
This flirtatious game she finds dismissive
Still, I stay the course and remain focused.
When I approach or pass her by, she stops
And acts neutral as if I didn’t exist.
Though disheartening, I calmly nod,
Like I’m thick-skinned and do not feel the sting.
For reasons I cannot explain clearly,
Her negative response is challenging.
And so I pursue my heartfelt desire,
Despite the laughter and chiding from her friends.
Love is a paradox that has limits.
Fear rejection—then live to regret it.
An ordinary day begins
Make a cup of coffee
Watch the sun rise
The lonely ticking clock
Watch the minutes make an arc
The extraordinary dismissed
How long till the day is over
Never in history are we this alone
Never knowing vastness
Some never know closeness
Give up togetherness today
Give up even on emptiness
I am the void and avoid
Nowhere to run from me
No choice but to be ordinary
Let loose the lonely demon
Give my chiding angel a break
Let them watch the star with me
The careless sun circumambulates
Around those happy people
Around the lonesome waiting
Without judgment, we all go round
War and peace are ordinary
Pour a glass of wine at dusk
Make a toast to the receding sun
Alone I try to find company in one
At least the sun and I make two
But, the setting sun leaves me
The moon fails to show up
If only I could be like them
Ordinary like nothing in the universe
All of us special in the vastness
Crowded by simple lives
Me unable to comprehend
Interdependence is
Extraordinary
Chef Frog was askance
Someone had asked for legs!
He was a chef who usually did what the customer wanted
But this was outrageous, even in Winipegs!
He demanded to know who the culprit was.
Waiter took him to a table where a duck sat, flinging off fuzz.
You ordered legs? Chef frog asked, using a chiding voice.
I ordered eggs, said the duck, whose name was Joyce.
Now the waiter got taken to task for his bad handwriting.
The chef went back to the kitchen where the sous chefs were fighting.
the kid looked curiously at grandpa ~ who was struggling down the stairs
he turned to the kid saying ~ one day you’ll be just like me so don’t stare
kid said i might be lucky and die young ~ besides since when do you care
mum was aghast chiding the kid ~ say your sorry that comment’s not fair
i’m sorry gramps ~ but dad said we must come round to inherit our share
By
David Kavanagh
bare birch tree swaying
blizzard blows away branches ~
chiding chickadee
5th December 2022
For Tania Kitchin's "Winter Nature Themed Haiku" contest
Tumultuous tale told and taught throughout time
Chiding cheers and chants and church bells chime
Parishioners of pastors who've past their prime
Claims of cunning conquers and cryptic crime
Daunt deeds to deviants dying for a nickel and dime
Grieve for the gains gone-by who grovel in grime
Sent forth by a sovereign who sought sublime
Messengers now muted no more than mime
Rue the revered who suit to rewrite the rhyme
Cast off couriers contrary to who create the crime
Put aside all the worthless pride,
reawaken a conscience that's dormant;
adapt a concept that unites, not divide!
Chiding never scolds the faults implied,
the dark side can't be hidden internally;
no honor is given to the weeping bride!
How noble is it to declare untold truths with a fiddle,
liberating it from the abyss it was entrapped;
virtuousness is defined by a loyalty so irrefragable!
No valid answer is given to impertinent questions,
it's wiser to avoid goons than agree with them;
anger is the rage that boils only in wrathful souls!
Not listening is avoiding the philosophy of the learned,
crucible failures could have been avoided with shrewdness;
who revels now: the triumphant or the humiliated?
Absence of guidance, in the form of spirituality,
is harmful and deranges the character of the obstinate;
their fallacious temperament equals stupidity!
Commitment to strides is not fiddling with the hallow brain,
vanquish the erroneous thoughts and breathe easily;
defeat is not the final reminder that victory is hard to attain!
One of my biggest pet peeves in the world
When I was in sixth grade was that Mrs. Tuttle
allowed Danny Kridelcome to shout out answers
But if I did it she chopped off my head with a machete.
If I become a teacher I vowed, I will never do that.
Danny would give me a look of pure “haha” before he shouted
Knowing I would also shout, and I would be duly lambasted.
This was 1966, when a student did not challenge a teacher.
Day after day Danny and I would blurt out the answer.
And day after day I would get sliced and diced,
while he received praise. A world where girls do not shout out.
I was a rebel; I could not stop, so did not.
One day when I was teaching a fourth grade class I realized
For the first time that I was letting the boys shout out,
So glad they were participating, but when the girls did it
I was FURIOUS and I was chiding, and shaming them
Because the girls ALWAYS answered.
I tried to go back into my mind to try and remember
how long I had been doing it.
Thankfully my memory failed me,
reducing my shame at my own prejudice.
I had once gone to a place in Ghana.
In that distant land of beautiful dreams
I stood on the banks of the River Ankobra.
Watch rapids navigate the upper streams.
I followed the rush and roar as they switch.
With grandeur bliss and scary grave mists
I sought in mine and found another twist.
Threatening surprise, in trips, and slips.
A dream unseen, trapped inside the night.
With relentless demon doze trying to hide
outside there, to seek the love of my life.
With anxious eyes of the tears, she cried.
The unseen weight in fate began lifting.
Paralyzed parenthesis whose grip is weak,
Disturbing symptoms, fearfully impacting.
Serenity trying to avoid the chiding defeat.
Waking from sleep that was pure and sweet,
Peace had cheered me with a lovely dream.
But stealers of dreams leave scars of defeat.
For hope, to fill the visions we have seen.
As a weary bird seeking a place to rest
To cool her warmth adventurous breath.
She lent her eager head upon my sore chest.
And share the cold night breeze with death.
A touch of smooth ivory, brought laughter to your eyes.
That familiar gazing giggle that creates such a mess,
no truth fortelling nor desiring ever to confess..
bristled in numb hands wrought in unquieted disguise.
Is it too much that I ask? a few fresh ground beans,
shouted impatiently at the empty vessel.
The smell of coffee chiding me as I wrestle..
empty cup bask'd in dream; of one sugar, one cream.
Could you see me turning red with every turn that flaunted,
did guilty pleasure spread, leaving with little other choice.
Or was it embarrassment heard in that admiring voice.
A valentine chore done just for you was all I wanted.
'Oh honey let me help you', whispered into my flushed cheek.
I don't hold a candle to you dear, a truth clear to see..
As you drew near I heard two soft kind lips say,
'My love you're turning the handle the wrong way'.
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