I professorially , perceptively
unofficially
noiselessly spoke
that addlepated
moldy merchantman
would pass
through foaminess
with volumetrically
unretrievable moonshine
and sunberry fodder
for bungarus
his puppyish
impracticable tantrum
impeccable monotonous drone
rowdy crescendo
a classic companion dither
could they brainwash
this opposer ?
but lukewarm normalcy
will not obstreperously come .
okay !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
hands on sacred books
we don't dither to take oaths ~
in courts of justice
Having been here a while, i've wrote poems
To cause a smile, others may bring
A shiver..However i rarely ever
Dither.)
Read me quote me for not a dollar
my words are free and yours to holler
Do add your spin if you so please
to make them fit or to appease
They sit and wait upon the page
for your two eyes to thus engage
To take them hither or take them yon
— and never dither where they belong
(The New Room: June, 2026)
Those who are tough lived long enough
(from puerile juvenile to senile immobile)
to become on the world's bum a boil
in the very end my good friend old chum
will finally shuffle off their mortal coil
go to the dogs then pop their clogs
come to some harm and buy the farm
get a leg out check out peg out
or as bad luck would have it kick the bucket
when they give up the ghost and they're toast
if they were an eskimo
we'd sit them out on the ice and snow
but we're humane we do maintain
ne'er more to roam we condemn them
for life to an old folks' home
where the infirm may wither and dither
hanging around dwindling down
until the day they f-fade away
Birdie Thinks
Shall I glide
Or flap or flutter
Slide or slither
Never dither?
Some way or other
I can fly
God-given wings
Fly anywhere
At any time
The air is mine
Go where I like.
And of pollution
Not a trace.
I’m innocent
And all content.
Unlike those humans
Spoiling space
With their plane trails
And their fumes
Their greedy race.
LOVE DERAILED
Whose unscathed heart has dared to love,
for to love is to feel the pain.
Is it true love that hurts not the heart,
or just two passing trains?
In the best of times, dinner and wine,
when love feels like it shoud.
Dither and doubt linger about.
That dirt makes it hurt so good.
Love isn't fair, tis all but a dare,
arrogant, selfish, obtuse.
The winners gloat only in the grave
losers go back to the caboose.
Old lines and hard times denigrate the steel
making the cars woble and sway.
Even riding the smoothest rail,
clickety clack clickety clack, all day.
Left at the station, the end of the line,
Infatuation's purple heart.
The grotesque beauty of attraction
tis the angst of most great art.
When pain's embraced you've lost the race,
there is nothing left to see.
Bought and paid for, gelded and roped
like voluntary slavery.
If on romance you've take the chance,
I wish you the very best.
End of the line of the honeymoon train
It's all down hill for the rest.
To get Greenland Trump would dither
The least, ‘one way or the other’,
When so rogue devils win,
It leads to greater sin,
World would get carved up together.
_________________________
Happenings | 36.01.2026 | political, USA, world, limerick
Note: In 2019, Trump’s wish to buy Greenland was greeted by gales of laughter. Today the mood has turned sombre. Predators always advance slowly and deliberately. He’s serious today, and emboldened no less after what he did to Venezuela. The frozen white land of Greenland seems to have turned red hot. And it would be no surprise if he gets it, ‘one way or the other’, as he’s wont to say. And what about other big sharks of the world? Would not their appetite get whetted more?
Dickering aches December me,
tragedy squeaks in knotted knees.
Banana back bent in the sack,
paddywack foot arches
bone of a moan,
no bounce in this frozen morn.
Non-elastic, erratically rheumatic,
I need a mechanic, a spanner
to wrench upon
this brainless stammer,
this dither and shiver
or spark plugs to electrify
an out-of-tune mind
as it circles
behind
a reluctantly thawing
eye.
She dreamt a dream of a requisite requiem far away,
For the unrequited love of life, led her lanky lamb's limbs astray.
To where she'd dither along the moor's marsh land,
Braved the dreary draughts of randy rain and hindless hail.
She'd return without fail in her frailty.
To where the shadows cast by the leaves of the alders,
Speckled across her open back like silver freckles.
She'd sway in the clearest of days, and lay in the ravage of rain.
And in saltier slathers of gold graced spit,
She'd await the pair of goldfinches to descend upon her silver speckled clit.
Await the trill of their liquid song, sung by their acetone tongue ,
Pecking a silver chime over the pleasure of grated groans.
“No.” Her iron lungs lunged and quivered.
She supposed he knew from his exhale and shiver.
Awake, now, lesserly known nor knowing, moreso,
awaken, alone, but with the haunting face of a *** upon her window,
“outside, look outside”
It called, so she stayed inside, unknown, laying low from the randy ravage of his rage.
9/11/2025
Fall in love, jumping in Autumn.
Splash of hues, refusing wither.
Leaping off, cushioning bottom.
Littering leaves in a dither.
Splash of hues, refusing wither.
Monotone rainbows in clothing.
Litter of leaves in a dither.
Burnt orange, maple reds, gloating.
Monotone rainbows in clothing.
Shaken off, adding to pile of
Burnt orange, maple reds gloating.
Looking on - mother-trees proud of.
Shaken off, adding to pile of.
Growing up, moments of winging.
Looking on - mother-trees proud of
Sailing sons, daughters caught springing.
Growing up, moments of winging.
Leaping off, cushioning bottom.
Sailing sons, daughters caught springing.
Fall in love jumping in Autumn.
Smiles of roses in our garden wither,
As the wings of our love mid-air dither,
Our songs are sung without their melody,
We live our lives in black and white,
Our love's colours stolen by the rainbow,
With our cloudy skies missing the stars' glow,
Rather our lean cheeks bear the pool of tears,
Enough to form two times the Pacific.
Though the petals of our roses are dry,
Our favours are like showers from the sky,
So our love can bloom like roses again,
Our hearts are the loam for love's tender roots.
Let's wait for the rain showers once again,
For bees to dance on roses in the rain,
And our hearts shall swim in love's flooding brook,
So as to bring back joy to our garden.
I will weep when you whither.
Soft, purple petals dried to ash in august sun,
Sweet nectar plucked away before I can smell your honey.
Before I can taste your grace,
Hold you to my face and pour my love into your cup like affirmations
Do I hold you close to my chest as you die?
Or turn away, I dither,
Are you worth it? A life so lost, a life just begin.
My sweet alyssum,
You grow through the cracks of a rocky shore.
His sweet relief,
Soft leaves coat sharp edges of what was once a chore,
My sweet alyssum,
The smell of ocean’s on the air.
His sweet relief,
Will he let you go, or will he tend and care?
Gentle hands scrape at earth
They spread soil, catch light
Yet despite their care each year you die.
My hands are not gentle,
They break roots, sever stems.
Would I only hurt more if I dared to try?
My sweet alyssum
So new in a garden, perennial and right.
Could you bloom again
If we somehow learned how to catch light?
Daffodils’ mild scent does permeate the air.
Through the fields dogs do dither then tear.
Rabbits serendipitously spotted that sunny yet showery day.
Many an egg the local farmer’s chickens does lay.
Easter hunt, easter hunt school laxation-professor
Does bear the brunt.
Buttercup, buttercup held bashfully to her face.
Out in the fields, they fiercely chase and race.
Horses, horses are ridden proudly and well.
Pancake day, pancake day, a broken shell who could tell.
Sunshine and shower how nurturing nature makes us far from dour.
One’s never too hot for angels to handle.
Quote - Poet’s own
For the glamorous Marilyn Monroe
Completely out of their minds men would go
Her hour glass figure
Sent them a-dither
When her two beauties were out there on show.
As a blonde bombshell Marilyn was known
Her face and her shape got her on a throne
Some folk liked it hot
When wild the wind got
Up went her frock, to her shock all was shown.
Marilyn wished to be star, perchance
Through exciting years she’d act, sing and dance
In films she appeared
She lost all her fears
And she was never without a romance.
Sadly Marilyn met her end too soon
Now she's flying somewhere over the moon
A proven actress
In heaven's love nest
Dancing and singing with angels in tune.
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