It was a memorable evening, bright
with my beautiful, charming fiancé
(once my wretched, tormented heart's delight)
near the old village of Fatheringay.
Drawn by the lilt of a whispery voice,
we found ourselves in a dark, rustic pub.
An inner misgiving questioned our choice.
A man served drinks from a hook on a stub.
After imbibing a strange, bubbling brew,
we dawdled the full moon-lit countryside.
In the lunar light, her eyes shone light blue -
mine, a phosphorus glow, like Mr. Hyde.
We gazed at the Hydra constellation,
where the Ghost of Jupiter nebula
somehow unfastened my reservation,
as its image fell on my retina.
That my grandfather was a lycanthrope,
and a mad cascade of serpentine thoughts,
this myriad of disclosures doused hope
(a demented disconnection of dots).
The vile dreams would slither back to their hole
too late for my near bride of eighteen.
The strong brew's effects had taken their toll.
My love was never again to be seen.
No, my true love was no more to be seen.
There once was a lass who waddled.
She liked running, but she dawdled.
With one terrible roar,
She fell hard to the floor.
Pat gave up eating Mac Donalds!
11/1/2024 Poem 4
Darling Dolly liked to dawdle
down past Dooley’s Deli.
Darling Dolly didn’t dabble
in Dooley’s Devil’s Delight.
Devil’s Delight, a donut dessert,
didn’t do it for Dolly.
Darling Dolly didn’t delight
in Dooley’s donut dessert.
So Darling Dolly dawdled home
without Dooley’s Devil’s Delight.
I’ve doodled and dawdled in Delaware,
Piddled in Pennsylvania without care,
I’ve been to New York and Alabama,
Michigan, Missouri and Montana.
I’ve travelled in every state, my friend,
And I can tell you that, in the end,
If you lose your mind - see how it can be -
The very best one is insanity.
Is it too late to put on
a slouch hat and overcoat
or is it too early for a T and shorts?
I dress in the dark
allowing time and light
to expose its itself upon skin and eyes.
This afternoon I will be busy until...
This morning is late and cannot catch-up
for it dawdled.
As if aware of its own magical powered
the moment opens-up
I relax
let the sky-peeking window
clothe and unclothe me
allow the sun-shadowed walls
to attire my mind the way it always will
and should do.
victorian canal life - the reality (a true tale from from my maternal heritage )
We left our abode
in old Cowfair
haggled a price
for an old shire mare
Onto the
landlord's canal boat
lock stock and barrel
for a life afloat
farewell to our
Buckingham birthplace &
its meagre living
from old point lace
dawdled slow
up to Cosgrove
taking our meals
. . around a blackened stove
our moveable house
painted castle& rose
not a life
we would have chose
Eighteen fifties harsh
&
mean
coal cargo
so nothing stays clean
doff your cap touch your forelock
every two mile
at
the gatekeeper's lock
Fresh food scarce
except for fish
perch & roach
a staple dish
clothes dry
on a washing line strung
out for a timeout
the toddlers young their
number so soon increased & grew
places to sleep
all too few
family life impossibly hard
so back to a tied cottage
in
Aylesbury's Anchorage yard
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
We left our abode
in old Cowfair
haggled a price
for an old shire mare
Onto the
landlord's canal boat
lock stock and barrel
for a life afloat
farewell to our
Buckingham birthplace &
its meagre living
from old point lace
dawdled slow
up to Cosgrove
taking our meals
. . around a blackened stove
our moveable house
.painted castle& rose
not a life
we would have chose
Eighteen fifties harsh
&
mean
coal cargo
so nothing stays clean
doff your cap touch your forelock
every two mile
at
the gatekeeper's lock
Fresh food scarce
except for fish
perch & roach
a staple dishc
clothes dry
on a washing line strung
out for a timeout
the toddlers young their
number so soon increased & grew
places to sleep
all too few
family life impossibly hard
back we went to a tied cottage
in
Aylesbury's Anchorage yard
OLD TOWN PAST
Gone: the Market where cows sheep and pigs brought telling perceptions
The images, noises and smells of the farms to the town
The tweeded farmers with leathery limbs and faces
And gaiters of deepest sheen in a rich chestnut brown
Flaxen ropes, billhooks, pitchforks enough for a peasants' uprising
Spread along the High street and over the Corn Exchange square
While Newport Street furnished inns for all thirsts' reviving
And above all, the clock tower made skyline iconic and fair
Then was school run not protected, chauffeured, in cars
But raced, skipped or dawdled through field, street, market, rail station
Our little world teamed with action, unscreened - no bars
Of health and safety; adventure without filtration
In that world we seemed in different incarnation
Can we thus discern immortality's intimation
We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
-Anaïs Nin
Memories of heart, half buried in open graves,
expectations etched in enchanted dreams.
Tear sodded sights, dry preoccupied minds
unknown truth camouflage visible known lies.
Clear 20/20 vision all blurred beyond a veil,
thought filled head, blankets a dawdled mind.
Temptress of emotions, seduces and misleads
distorted light bends, through eyes of prism mind.
Bright yellow refracts, into shades of sunset pink,
deep blue shimmers in orange hide and seek.
We morph and mould, a cocktail of our own,
rivulets scream soft roars, of invisible torrents.
I see sunflowers blooming on your snowflakes,
bumbling butterflies, or insects in cocoon ?
You see distant deep craters all dusty faraway...
My eyes blaze in love, as I see my beautiful moon.
7th February 2020
Sponsor Maureen McGreavy
Contest Name She Inspires Series - AN
Placed third in the premiere contest
THE END IS NEAR
POSTED
on a telephone pole
FANCY FONT
…THE END IS NEAR
I slowed my pace
dawdled and lollygagged
pondered the possibilities
….“THE END OF WHAT????”
My subscription to the
“WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT QUARTERLY
,,,RENEWED,
the glass of DOUBTS AND FEARS
….HALF FULL.
The road narrowed
trees snatching up shadows
offering darkness
…AT NOON.
I peered ahead
searching for the credits
that always precede
….THE END
gazed into despair
as a message flashed…
….FANCY FONT
…..TO BE CONTINUED…..
John G. Lawless
©9/14/2019
In the shadows of galactic stars
The night dawdled onto the earth,
A nightly music landed softly
With chimes of melody reverberated
Around my aurora –all over me
Like sparkles of sapphire lights emitted
From some crystal chandeliers,
In the tumult of emotion I sat on the edge
Of the bank, eyes musing on the water,
My conscience combines with dispensed thoughts--
In a pique, in love, in pain,
In blame, in guilt,
In many rooms of life
My emotions borrowed the wisdom of music
That could touch any blue yonder!
For the past, the future was never apparent
its dormant projection lay in unformed
no thought ever counted it of concern
Time tripped and dawdled, discovering playful as children do
a continuous today absent of tomorrow
the truancy of sleep the night merely borrowed
Only questions to remember
more important than the befuddled them to answer
a nursery-rhyme of colour designed to wonder
Why,why, why didn’t care to reason
but considered the importance of knowing nothing
and still, and still be in covenant with everything
There was no path to tread, no spirit to seek
no doorway held fast by rusted hinge
no separation between exploring mind
All was held in a delicate of light
those angel hands of every child
so unembellished in their witness never defined
So it is as in the continuous today
until the futures chain to changeable edge
rattles the bars and locks us all away
Such a scarecrow death insinuates
and by contemptible depiction reiterates
damnations end of miracles
Patricia dawdled through the breakfast
Mom got angry, sent her to Belfast
There she learnt how to run
And how to eat a bun
And returned with the bread crumbs amassed
The recipes have dawdled
In their box for nigh a year,
But now they'll get some brand-new stains;
The holiday is here.
It's time to clean and shop and bake -
From scratch, if you are able -
And then to find that special cloth
To decorate the table.
The wine is waiting to be poured,
The napkins folded neatly;
The soup is bubbling on the stove,
The baby napping sweetly.
When evening falls, we'll gather 'round
With family and friends
And read the oft-told story,
Though we know just how it ends.
And then we'll eat the festive meal,
Familiar and delish;
To do it all again next year
Would be my fervent wish.
So long ship,
go on your merry way!
I hope I'll see you soon,
when you come
stumbling back to Bay,
to Bloor,
and Yorkville
where we last docked,
and rocked,
swayed,
and dawdled,
talking
into the night...
So long ship,
farewell my love!
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