Santa's coming, Santa's coming,
I can hear his sleigh,
Santa's coming, Santa's coming,
He is on his way.
Go to sleep my little darling,
I’ll bet you a penny farthing,
Your dreams will come true,
And all because it's you.
Know you'll like your Christmas goodies,
And have baked some yummy cookies,
Christmas Day is such a joy,,
For each and every girl and boy.
Last is best in this little world,
this place apart.
We always knew what was...,
for us.
Ask why we're left to remain under stars
seen by eyes of dwindling light.
Left behind a vague cosmos' curtain,
our final fate seems so uncertain.
A three legged dog, we saunter along the deep.
Yet dare not to look over that darkest ravine,
a place that swallows light. Did you peek?
If you know, please tell me.
Try to accept that a few do care,
want to know that you're still almost whole,
almost all there. For your peace of mind,
and mine,
please try.
A road begun, so distant.
A masterpiece, insistent.
Divided rolls at parting,
provided each a farthing
with usury demanding.
Each master understanding
not but through a darkened glass.
Wayward paths, they were both leading.
The messenger lay bleeding
in darkness, cold and shivering
til light broke forth delivering.
Crystal shards now his to gather,
remains of what was shattered,
at long last to be arranged.
Setting forth, but then quick falling.
Ill regard toward the calling.
Dreams bright light fell into dim,
and the mass of Hell crept in,
as the words spoke once in warning
cloak the messenger in mourning,
while eternity peers down.
Burning coal, a gift from heaven,
once bestowed becomes a leaven,
as a single grain begun,
sprouting forth toward the sun.
Calling out, the pathway paving,
lifts the messenger and saving
as the poems penned long ago…
come forth.
TBC
An artsy faerie of Emerald green
with her dragon Verde can be seen,
deep in the woods by a stump of oak;
this pair were quite creative folks.
A faerie gifted with a talent for carving
though she earned not a single farthing;
she carved and carved for children you see
bunnies, flowers, birds and bees.
Verde would fly into their dreams at night
as they slept beneath bright moonlight;
he’d whisper deep into their ears,
stories to quell all of their fears.
Then softly, he crept to their beds
and lay a carving by their head;
with faerie magic it was imbued;
a gift of magic and wonders true.
A good luck charm for their protection
full of wisdom to give them direction;
for guidance from the elementals,
is that which comes right from the angels.
Can somebody, please, tell A Sugar Mummy
That her sweet young guy is not a dummy
Out of her The ‘Sugar’ what is left is ‘Mummy’
At last, her presenting as The Dummy?
Can’t someone urge My Sugar Mummy
To try a longer look at her tummy
For the still bold presence of The Gummy
That finally does return to her “A Granny”
Or, still not finer, ‘An Aging Nanny?
The Sure-To-Get A Nasty I Beg Your Pardon?
From a cheating lover she has told “Well Done”
And a much nastier and coarser I Beg Your Pardon,
After vengeful claims of not having a farthing.
Always, as at the last moment,
A hurting, even heart-bleeding comment
That does reveal her hidden rejection
By one already championing her projection!
. for public domain
Noel lost its jingle and joy years ago.
Embers on hearths have lost their warm glow,
Christmases in Whales have come and gone,
caroling more mute on a Holiday song.
Everywhere War, and people are starving,
life on this planet is worth half a farthing.
AI and robots have taken our work.
It seems that the whole world is going berserk.
But the air is still crisp, a Star is still bright,
and Hope in our hearts carries on through the Night.
Wise souls search for stories to bring us good cheer
to welcome the coming of one more good year.
Final Tribute
(for the Last Caesar)
Give the annual percentile amount
of your iron-copper gathering
The yearly brow liquidity
is required by the silver arm of vexation
Hemoglobin promissory is handed
to the seated image stamped on the penny
Spinal rein acquiescence,
bent will to the usury yield is mandatory
Because the last Caesar said make it so
The coins are jingo collected,
earmarked primarily for a military preference
Give ad infinitum;
blood, sweat and tears
is the required sum
Profess fiscal fealty to the feudal lord
of a monetary divided land
Take a sharecropper stand,
a servile oath of stained cloth submission
What is the scarlet vow protection condition?
Pay the final tribute
with the parting of your farthing soul
Give with mint-scented breath,
(a legion air of pleb compliance)
the placid portion of patriotic cuckold
Pocket pawns ask only for golden liberty,
to debt pursue life, love and happiness
With deep tributary lender lament,
the last Caesar said belay that request
09-14-21
I am
a windmill, dilapidated but still rotating, creaking,
Lake Windermere off season, quiet and autumnal,
a tooth ache throbbing, an irritation, black decay inside.
I am
a foot stool unvarnished, one leg uneven, rarely used,
a penny farthing holding up traffic, out of time and season,
a pop song, mimed.
I am
an apple, red amongst a bowl of green.
I am one line short of a verse.
I am a letter unopened and unread,
returned to s-
beckons darkest day
offering a farthing of
moonshine and starlight —
coupled flesh warm beneath quilt
Winter wine keeps spirits’ bright
beckons darkest day
coldness of the Christ’s sealed tomb —
tears and fears presume
the worst of ebon, the death
of life and healing; breathing
celebration of
the birth and rebirth from God
at the darkest times —
star of Bethlehem sojourns
to every bootlegged corner
celebration of
all sons and daughters of King
haloed in moonshine —
silent nights prescribed, roaring
hearth and candlelight; pristine
12/9/2020
The Gentle Ride
A light breeze brushed and passed me by
As I rode along the timeless scene,
I marvelled at the pellucid sky,
A light breeze brushed and passed me by.
And overhead I saw a swallow fly,
Effortless, supreme; so very serene.
A light breeze brushed and passed me by,
As I rode along the timeless scene.
On Your Bike
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest,
Passing by Mrs Fay Randonee
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee.
Peloton 'sham-Wahs sitting pretty,
Waiting for the ultimate test.
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest.
Two Wheels Gone.
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
Mrs Penny Farthing, her derrier aflush
Her bone shaker making her all ablush.
Some say she's as daft as a brush,
Many would say she oft dillydallied
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
Charlie was dead
Charlie was dead: to begin with,
There is no doubt whatever about that.
I leave my residue to Carol for Christmas
and Little Dorrit his faithful Tom Cat.
There’s been hard times here in Bleak House,
Villainy and miserly crime capers,
I spent my fortune in shops of curiosity,
Pickwick wrote of it, in his gossip papers.
You gather here with great expectations,
Of bequeaths, chattels and yield.
But listen well to my loyal Trustees,
Messrs Chuzzlewit and Copperfield.
To that twister and Street Urchin Oliver,
and to show I bear him no grudge,
I do leave a Crown and one Farthing,
and a sixpence to Barnaby Rudge.
To our mutual friends Dombey and Son,
Please accept my cane and fine silk scarf.
May you prosper all the year round,
As comfortable as a Cricket on a hearth.
So, here is my last Will and Testament,
Yes, I’m worthless, so whimper and brood.
Where did it all go, there is no mystery,
Lost at Cards to Nickleby and Drood.
KS 6/11/2017
When monorhyming, try data mining
Rhymezone com surfing, all word rhymes searching
Best suffix finding, words with "ing" ending
Present tense verbing, use twice in singing
Nouning with morning, farthing and shilling
Fling thing with sling string, monosyllabing
Entry for the "Rhymers delight - internal monorhyme" contest
Written 5th January 2017
LAS NAVES DE MEDERA (Wooden Ships)
They wanted ships. What they got
was wooden shells
not a farthing from the Crown
for these floating buckets.
Six thousand corks, hastily riveted
into the keel planking, kept them afloat.
Nina. Santa Maria. Pinta.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained said Isabella.
Ah, muchacho, would she ever cash in.
The navigater shot the course
over the main, visions of tapestry and lace
and all sorts of spices in his head.
Gold? Well--Sí, oro.
But he never dreamed.
The natives appeared naked and restless.
In scatted shades of blues and reds,
artists painted skirts on the girls,
long shirts on the old women,
loincloth on the men,
and a pearl studded gilded robe on the king.
Which Chris promptly stole.
His mistake was trying to hide it
from Isabella.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Why would you waver in your way pulling off to the side
Why would you change your day giving back into pride
Surely, His eye is upon you, why would you ever worry
Knowing this in all you do there isn't any need to hurry
The focus of all your attention you will feel such a calm
For did I not mention He has you securely in His Palm
You needn't worry anymore nor need you lose sleep
As in Him all is secure as in Him you need only steep
No storm could ever sink for it is in Him that I abide
In all of the thoughts that I think He is near my side
Such forgiveness of that Cross in dying for us freely
One not feeling His loss is the one who doesn't see
Each day is a special Gift that He has given to you
The world will sift for only in His Word are you true
And such the joy I find in the following of His Way
So as each day may wind in my heart does He stay
Matthew 10:29-31
29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing
and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.
With a thin and outstretched arm,
eyes agape with none it stares,
drained of all but a beating heart,
she hopes a farthing unsure to come,
Her hands are empty, her tummy complains,
worries soon washed aside when it rains,
she rushes under the bridge she calls home,
but slaps and shouts send her back out,
Drenched and delirious, she's hoping again,
against the great odds of a heavy rain,
fate kind this once, she gets her some bread,
and thereafter deemed to have earned her bed,
But time and sleep cannot quench hunger,
and she wakes and roams till it is supper,
empty bowls and harsh reality once more greet her,
she goes back to sleep and dream of dinner.
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