It’s quite clear that you misunderstood
the distinction between ‘could’ and ‘would’.
But before we get there,
if you even still care,
is the matter of whether one should.
Categories:
decorum, nonsense,
Form: Limerick
You sat still at Miss Binnington’s
No swinging legs or kicking feet
Back pressed against chair back
Bottom firmly held to chair seat.
Children seen but not heard
A rule very seldom broken
Only in reply could
Any word be spoken.
The starched table cloth
Pristine white and clean
Ironed and smooth with
Not a wrinkle to be seen.
Cake stand with its little cakes
Placed precisely in the centre
A reverent hush prevailed as we
Waited for Miss Binnington to enter,
Bearing tea in China cups
Delicate and thin
Really the only way then
To serve tea in.
A little decorum followed
Until she quietly departed
And then, only then, was
Our afternoon tea started.
Eat as silently as you could
As delicately as you were able
Only an uncultured yob dare
Put his elbows on the table.
Seventy years and more years ago
Miss Binnington’s now long gone
A more crazy and frenetic world
As the century rolled quietly on.
Children these enlightened days
No longer sit silent and in awe -
Good manners and respect
Don’t seem to matter anymore.
Some times things change
A little more than they maybe ought to
I think sometimes we now
Throw out both baby and bath water.
Categories:
decorum, childhood, memory,
Form: Rhyme
Despair aught I care, in distraught
adhere I thought.
I fear unsure in revere, insecure of
love immature.
Unfair sincere demure, disdain severe
I incur pain.
Allure in dire devour, deplore I cower
pure desire.
Bizarre amour to perish amiss, ignore I
defer jealous affixed.
Temerity in moral of boredom, surety a quarrel of
Vulnerable Decorum.
Categories:
decorum, depression,
Form: Rhyme
Moonlight harvest time
A little decorum quest
whilst watching the oil
Categories:
decorum, dream, night, universe,
Form: Haiku
Dulce Et Decorum Non Est
I am brave, I am strong, I am young, I am old,
I am eighteen.
Watch my back, my friend
I’ll watch yours.
The false bravado, the sweat, the heat, the flies,
the lies
No, Sir, I am not afraid
I’m not afraid of war, Sir, I’m not afraid to die
Kill them before they kill you, son,
Kill them before they kill you.
The contact
The noise, the heat, the screaming, the fear
I won’t scream
I won’t run
Aim, fire, don’t aim, fire, fire, fire!
Fall, fall, fall, down
Mother, I’m scared.
God, I’m scared
Don’t let them hurt me, mother
don’t let them kill me, God
I’m screaming
in pain
Not in pain, in anger, it’s not me it’s you
Are you hurt, my friend, is it you
in pain?
Let me lift you
Let me carry you
away from here.
Away from the pain, the anger, the hurt, the hate
the heat, the flies, the sweat, the blood
My blood.
Your blood, your blood. Our blood
And theirs.
And theirs.
It gets easier, I promise.
Next time will be easier, you’ll see
No, it won’t Sir.
It won’t.
Categories:
decorum, africa, emotions, fear, stress,
Form: I do not know?
They suggested that I was just a toddler moving fast.
As they wine and dined, I heard all of them say
She will be sent to the best schools.
I was only three.
The living room was elegant.
Expensive furniture and beautiful walls of wallpaper with silk drapes were the interiors design.
When the sun shined through the windows, the splendor was defined.
I love to just see the flowers bloom free - so divine.
My mind ponders on those days.
Walking to school was always enjoyed
Until one rare occasion where I was chased by German shepherds.
I was eight years of age walking the tracks.
Do you believe I am alive today?
Natural life can be whimsical.
It provides you the acumen of a scholar.
In that room was diversity in the races, there were colors that delineated tomorrow.
There were struggles to never be departed.
Impulse urges notion prophecy foresaw.
The chandelier chimes when the wind blows.
__________________________________________________|
Penned April 05. 2015!
Categories:
decorum, culture, journey, memory, nature,
Form: Free verse
Tennis pros are on the courts;
Fans are in the stands.
Silence, we should know, is what
The circumstance demands.
Yet there are those who can't abide
By customs of decorum.
Maybe being quiet for so long
Will simple bore 'em.
So these few clowns feel they're allowed
To yell, with vim and verve,
Some player's name just as that player
Is about to serve.
It's tacky, lowlife, rude and dumb
And violates the rules.
Yet every match is plagued
By these annoying boorish fools.
The players simply pause and wait,
Their concentration shot.
No matter where the match is held,
This happens, quite a lot.
I think that fans should be informed -
This might come as a shocker -
That tennis etiquette is not
Like football or like soccer.
So anyone who wants to scream
When silence is expected,
Should watch the match from home or else
Expect to be ejected.
Categories:
decorum, people, sports,
Form: Rhyme