First you steal my heart
So may I have this dance?
Perhaps you’ll steal my last name next
It’s a tit for tat
When you steal this
I steal that
We dig dig dig
Deeper into this pit
This pit we have dubbed “love”
First you stole my heart
Then I stole a dance
You stole my priorities
So I took your attention
Next you take up half my house
So I steal your affection
It’s a tit for tat
When I steal this
You steal that
But you don’t steal from me
You simply replace things
So when you stole half my bed
I stole half your time
And I don’t force things
I don’t like to
I guess
But you’ll take my last name next
The end.
the twisting root of the old tree reminds me of trolls
elves no doubt play in this ditch, singing and chanting
There is something magical about my tree-lined road
“Most desolate road in Kansas” dubbed one newspaper
But to me it is Thoreau’s Pond, but better.
I delight in the verdant grasses in the spring
Field of yellow daisies, queen Anne’s lace and dandelions
Clover is sprinkled all over this land; it is a magical meadow
I see faeries in the summer, flying in forms of dragonflies
Bees, wasps, mud daubers, and humming birds
If I take pictures, there are spiritual orbs when they are developed
This is a mystical place, a land of enchantment, my countryside.
Rapper, actor, singer, songwriter Bad Bunny:
a Latino performer who's making big money!
Dubbed the "King of Latin Trap",
he's clearly put Puerto Rico on the map!
I introduce myself as Douglas
some immediately shorten it to Doug
Should I just accept their choice
and metaphorically bury it beneath a rug
Politely I request a favour
would you please use my full name
There has been two or three resist
they don't want to play my game
One day I met a man called Les, abbreviated my name from his lips it came
When I asked my favour he described me as pedantic
So I asked if I could call him Lesley his full given name
not at all, it raised his ire, an interesting semantic
Is the name I prefer to choose,
my expectation, perhaps a bit too romantic ?
One day it was revealed and it made me realise
that when I'm seen running I must have a loping plodding style
So the locals dubbed me Draft horse well that really made me smile
What really matters that if you abbreviate my surname you'll come up with Gill
If you address me in a loving way that will fill the bill
Some pay no heed
to what’s on their mind
Others can’t bring themselves
to say, ‘Would you mind’
Still others are dubbed ‘no-minds’
while the wisest amongst us
don’t mind keeping silent
Though if asked what they’re thinking
~ reply ‘Never mind.’
Twelve days of Christmas
Girls and boys meet and blush
Origins of known and unknown class
Species and genus of mystical plush
Hopeful of existence in various regions
Joyful in resilience, remnants of temperate legions
Twelve days of mingling and bantering
Herbs and plants of healthy living
Each day of Christmas displayed and waving
Twelve days while smiling, sold for healing
Boys and girls named strangely
Titled or dubbed scientifically
Kale, Rosemary, Chives, Cloves, Chard, Cilantro
Basil, Sage, Thyme, Balm, Lettuce, Oregano
What other names have you known or met?
Write them down and stay connected whether you are dry or wet!
Vulnerability
One decided to let you enter one's
Space and thoughts.
I assumed you were finally the one
At least one's mindset concluded that.
Vulnerability isn't weakness or is it
Pumped up for kicks?
Resulted from a deceitful tongue with
The results of broken trust over time.
Revisions like the seasons ensued on the road
Like beforehand.
Similar situations? Sooner or later, individualized
Faces are often challenging to cast from one's mind.
Opening oneself to others allowing yourself
To be deeply known and understood.
Having a preference for being one's true
Authentic self flaws and all.
Scavenging with mixed emotions of inaptness
By the harsh realities of a dubbed life of vulnerabilities.
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours - waiting for rebirth.” Constance La France
Working your way through hardened soil
beneath my back bedroom window -
fetching note to my springtime eyes and nose
yellow yard breaking forth.
Marvel, unhelped by human hand
happens yearly right on schedule
I mowed you down in the heat last summer
when your blossoms faded.
I seldom contemplate your roots -
the part of you that’s underground.
Your heart, disfigured bulb, succumbs below
transforms over winter.
What goes on down deep in the dirt
is a death of the dearest kind.
Nature takes over the care of the bulb -
rebirth is the result.
Some have dubbed you daffodil;
mom always called you a jonquil;
others label you an Easter flower.
You bring new life to earth.
From a loud-mouth, world’s cease-fire arranger
To desperate man as if in manger,
Who when naught was rendered,
Panned, having surrendered,
And what is worse than that,
For a rival to bat,
Dubbed as salesman and Putin’s messenger!
_____________________________
Happenings | 37.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: Meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska. Boasts galore and no more boats to reach the coast across! Putin conceded little, trump ceded his boasts, reduced from being a realtor president to a salesman and messenger to relay Russian terms to EU and Ukraine. But the deal maker that he is, Trump might still get Russian oil to flow in the world easing prices, access rare earths from Ukraine, and his coveted Nobel peace prize.
Dubbed "The Prince Motown." Late, great soul singer Marvin Gaye
Brought "Sexual Healing." His star shone as bright as a noon sunray.
In song asked "What's going on?": life cut short by estranged father.
Hit-making behemoth, he'd be even bigger had his career gone farther.
What I see in stars above is extremely wearisome,
with useless inane details that I wish I never knew.
Light years, space-time, black holes, big bangs,
myriads of pricks 'n specks a billion miles away - who cares?
I've been over-dubbed, deluded, and robbed,
of the romance, songs, stories,
and delightful spiritual legends
that ancient master star gazers saw
in stars above.
Hunter and archers with sword, belt, arrows and shield,
A veritable zoo of animals - lion, ram, bull, bear, llama, emu,
goat, scorpion, fish and severed heads, under arms.
Pots and pans, the scrub-a-dub dish that
ran away with the spoon.
Regal Heracles, Achilles and Troy in battles raging skyward
Bickering Gods, Virgins, Kings and Queens with kids and twins.
Action-men Pharaohs, wannabee Gods,
leaping from pyramid tops,
onto the ladder of the Milky Way, which is -
The River of Heaven, Road of Souls
The Spilled Breast Milk of Hera the Mother God
The seed-strew pathway the mighty Emus trod,
pecking their way,
In stars above.
We all should get out and look up more!
Gazing with ancient eyes into the sky above,
reveling to see and enjoy what they saw,
in stars above.
We live in the present,
reminisce our past,
and dream of a tomorrow
that never arrives.
First breath, starts Present time,
and constantly changes,
finding its way
to a read only file dubbed past.
Therein to lie forever
in some dusty corner of our psyche.
Our past never changes,
however, depiction of it does.
Have a great day!
.
These are the epitaphs of the sea
left exposed every night by the tide;
Pounding
pulsing
rolling in
rolling out..
A shadow of a siren’s story,
sly secrets subdued now simply shriek;
Rolling in
pulsing
pounding
rolling out..
Broken sand dollars and shell bits merge,
forging a force to be conscious of;
Delicately dubbed dominatrix,
a strong surge can strong arm anyone;
A wind pounding
rolling in
waves pulsing
rolling out..
These are chiseled mermaid epitaphs.
Never Give Up
Miracle Man
11/20/2024
Each person is given
an allotted time from birth,
We use this time, dubbed life,
trying to prove our worth.
Many will become famous
accomplishing great things,
While the disadvantaged
dreams of living like kings.
Many face daily laboring
in the days scorching heat,
Grubbing out an existence
without shoes on their feet.
While the affluent thinks daily
of a menu’s choice of meat,
The impoverished is questioning
whether or not they will eat.
Each person does the things
of which they’ve been made able,
While one dines like a king
the other, crumbs from his table.
But each is held responsible
for the things in their cup,
Many can no longer persevere
and just simply give up.
A sudden crash awakens the night.
Thundering boots stomp,
heightening fear.
Little spots of light dart across the room. A half-naked man, bewildered and angry,
a wall of blue invaders violated his castle.
Pinned to his bed, with a truncheon to his throat,
he hears a woman's hysterical pleas for mercy,
unaware of their crimes.
A singular figure stands tall, self-righteous,
demanding their passports in an authoritative voice.
" Are you married to this woman?"
" Are you a permanent resident?"
These are the questions asked by the invaders.
If this sounds familiar, you would be wrong,
New Zealand in the 60s. One of her proudest moments?
Once dubbed the land of milk and honey of the Pacific,
inviting her poorer cousins to part-take in her fortune.
Then she ridiculed and scorned her guests,
labeled overstayers by her gracious host,
with the blessings of her white populace.
My fellow countrymen do not wish to be reminded of such events.
In this land of milk and honey, covered in sheep dip.
It is good to remember, in case we forget and repeat,
Lest we forget the lessons of our past.
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