Crossing the London Bridge by trike,
I observed a head upon a pike.
So, I politely doffed my cap
and returned home to take my nap.
We got an old basket
A ball of strong twine
And one or two things
Of yours and mine
We found an old blanket
And very very soon
We were flying up high
In our homemade balloon
Mr Skylark interrupted
His wonderful song
To wish Bon Voyage
As we sailed along
I doffed my hat
To the astounded crow
We very soon left
A few miles below
We moored for a time
To the edge of a cloud
And we looked around
Both feeling so proud
I filled your glass
With sparkling wine
That I’d hidden
In a pocket of mine
We raised a glass
And drank a toast
To old Father Sky
Our wonderful host
Then we decided
After a roam
It was time really
We set off for home
Where you washed your hair
And I shook my head
Before putting my blanket
Back on my bed
After a cup
Of Camomile tea
You set off home
And I climbed a tree
I waved to the lark
The crow and the sky
Then I went to sleep
With both of my eyes
Why do these guys quit before seventy?
After achievements Life on Earth empty!
There was to be a Macgregor Laird:
Before sixty-one years to rest laid...
For my avid interest in History,
I could not but alight on his story
With its private message from Greatness
"No, Mystery, no Magic: Eagerness!"
What had he shrewdly done: John Beecroft?
In their Britain left behind a voice soft
To in far-off lands hold her goals aloft
While him Portugal, Spain and, sure, France scoffed;
In West Africa's Fernando Po
Seeing that The Non British did lines toe:
In Nigeria's captured Bight of Benin
Ensuring that his men got their Quinine;
I reckon in the close Bight of Biafra
Giving out British bags not of raffia!
I could have for John Beecroft my hat doffed,
Just that when I last tried a patriot coughed.
Santa dropped in and was eager to pay,
Viagra was sadly left in the sleigh.
A tart doffed her teddy,
Said, "Santa I'm ready,
But doubt you're able to do it that way."
The lyric deft and yet bereft, its logic baldly doffed:
an heir in err, a progeny ‘twas not untimely off’d.
In aggregate, the follicles that sprout the facial hair,
protrude a plain that’s primed for pain, as microbes nestle there.
To mow the glade with steely blade creates a field of woe;
the pain-free knight, his own mote smites, so mites midst hair might grow.
She greeted him at her front door
Promptly arrived at half past four
Sat him down in an easy chair
Placed close by hers with proper care
He placed his hand upon her knee
As she served him Earl Grey tea
Left it there a merest instant
Then drew it back so content
She hadn’t recoiled or shown alarm
Not even smallest jerk of her arm
Had disturbed the steady flow
As both watched its level grow
He heard the whisper of dress silk
As she poured and added the milk
She sat by his side with a little sigh
As his fingers brushed against her thigh
And for now he thought it best
There to let the matter rest
He took his leave soon after that
Took his cane doffed his hat
Saw then much to his surprise
The little twinkle in her eyes
Said may I call again once more
She nodded yes and closed her door
Watched him walk down the lane
Tall and straight with swagger cane
A gent in a tailored suit, sat by me and said,
I saw the ripest strawberries, fruit of ruby red
poured over a dish of vanilla ice cream
I pinched myself, could this be a dream?
He shook his head and whispered "You are a pearl of a girl,
Would you care to dare come with me, for a swirl?"
The sun was blaring in my eyes and down upon us
I doffed my sun hat, a warm sultry day, no need to fuss
No use resisting such enticing fun
Lapping away and dripping on my tongue
We were lost in that dream, a delicious swoon
A strawberry delight made for two on a hot afternoon!
6/25/22
daily I went to Roldan' bakery
task that I performed with mastery
it rained the bag of bread wet...
to solve it I doffed my shirt
bread safe... was applauded for bravery
...“This is the way it’s always been,
Paul himself was once a demon,
now the guy’s a literal saint,
the door’s open to everyone.”
With that the strange man doffed his hat,
got up and returned to his life,
leaving Dez confronted by choice,
to do evil, or to do right.
Would he take the chance given to him,
or serve the dark master below?
…Dez died as a father of five,
which tells us all we need to know.
He dresses in robes, carefully coiffed
He enters the nave, mitre is doffed
He preaches a tale, to eager sheep
He fleeces their wool, his tithe to keep
He blesses the flock, they’ve had their fill
He slithers away, forked tongue now still
January 1, 2022
A fair maid took a stroll on the beach,
In the moonlight while eating a peach.
Afraid the juice dripping down
Might soil her gown,
She doffed it and juice ran down each.
~ SIR GALAHAD's RETURN ~
Sir Galahad's returned to life
Hurrah! Huzzah! and Yippee-Yay!
He's bought himself a hunting knife...
Strange appetites of steeds these days
Demanding noodles, but not hay
Announcing in the village square
"I've come to catch a yeti live
So pray for me a simple pray'r
That I, and not the yeti, thrive"
Sir Galahad, upon his steed
Doffed his visor, then off he rode
The village folk did pay him heed
They prayed a heartfelt plea and crowed:
"Please God, this knight not catch his yeti
~ We haven't any more spaghetti"
-- Iambic Tetrameter (Mostly) --
The Windy Month of March
Along the road I strolled
With my bonny Chlo
As cheerful as a lark
In the windy month of March,
When the wind doffed
My bunnet off.
Down the Brae I dashed
Whilst my Chloe did laugh
As I chased the cap
Across the Haugh
With old Sol brimming
Warmth upon our being.
Underfoot of strides,
Upon grasses and sedges I tramped,
Past daffodil blooms and thistle pricks
And briars in the heath,
And when I reached to grab the brim,
The wind would blow it away again.
We were happy as plums under the sun,
Me and my Chloe walking along
With hands embraced.
“She’s my lass,” I’d proudly say
On an otherwise perfect day
Until the wind blew my bunnet away.
Finally, the wind quit,
And I retrieved my bunnet
Whilst my Chloe had the fits
To see upon my head it sits,
Stretched o’er my ears, stiff as starch
In the windy month of March.
Rich with a conscious
Living in the city
A socialist soul
In a barrister cloths
His money worry’s
Involve can he count that high
And which home to use tonight
The tribulations of the socialist right
How dare the masses disagree
Its Europe all the way
The man's no sign post just a weather vane
Two Keir's do not make us labour
The red flag fly’s at half mast
And caps are doffed at labour passing
All hail Keir Starmer the saviour of the right
around the time your eyes met mine
i ran in fields of those unclean-
i saw you stand with feet so sore
awaiting stars that shall align
for you’re the one that i adore-
your cashmere moon sees stars serene;
a song with tunes caught in between
what used to be what i forgot-
the hope of truth that love bestowed
has planted joy from love’s seed sowed
the woe I wore was doffed by thee,
embrace the way you swept debris;
i ache when you are not near me-
our dulcet love as pure as gold,
affection as my heart you hold-
destruction fears what of romance,
seduction steers a love perchance
if dreams of me you dream at night,
must i admit i dream of you?
a love too splendid for thy sight...
for you have made my hopes come true
**********************************
(I hope I did IP right, I'm still learning)
howmanysyllables.com
1.9.20
Strict Rhyme and Meter Poetry Contest
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