The crayfish hies it
Under the flat, shale rock that
Smells of moss and fish.
He stands fierce; claws akimbo
Ready to fend off a boy.
Neither unhelpfulness nor a low of zest for life
could lift me from the deep abyss I had fallen into,
countless failures added more gloom to strife;
nobody applauded me, all I head was a big boo!
When misfortunes or pitfalls mark one's fate, despair sets in
to deplore an unforgiving derision echoing with contempt
in a hall of laughter and shameful words of undeserving scorn;
lowering your head in shame is admitting and condoning guilt!
Who's afflicted by unfairness often chooses not to fight,
but having been deprived of nurturable inner strength
any loss of this virtue can cause a devastating blight
of anxieties', fears, and regrets void of moral worth!
Be persistent and unyielding, ditch all pitiful discouragement,
it's the unfaltering way to conquer any shadow of lingering doubt
and fend off an unforgiving derision that bruised soul and mind;
Is there an expectation to live life fully? Let yours be a perfect bind!
Win gold
be bold
Long run
such fun
High jump
speed bump
Grand prize
all eyes
Close race
in chase
Drab match
I catch
Ground stroke
no joke
Tiebreak
heartache
Foot fault
must halt
Forehand
so grand
Deuce court
report
Drop shot
on spot
Backspin
just in
Closed stance
advance
First serve
hold nerve
All out
no doubt
Arm ball
your call
Back foot
well put
Feet sore
crowd roar
Pit stop
right flop
Air jacks
not lax
Catch fence
immense
Choose cone
in zone
Downforce
of course
Dry line
sounds fine
Black dot
so what
Box-kick
smart flick
Breakdown
don’t frown
Eight-man
staunch fan
Fend-off
not half
Fly half
big laugh
Five-eight
high rate
Foul play
no way
Free kick
quite slick
Full-back
don’t slack
Knock-on
now gone
Loose head
instead
Pop pass
first class
Red card
off guard
Set piece
they tease
Shoeing
booing
Touch judge
won’t budge
Midcourt
retort
High clear
hear hear
Backstroke
awoke
Duck-Dill
instil
Frontcrawl
your call
Grab start
look smart
Pull Buoy
alloy
Swim Down
don’t clown
Morning Musings
Miracle Man
1/2/2025
Morning thoughts drift,
seeking guidance or direction.
Unsure of destination,
they fend off deflection.
Hoping 2025 will be as tasteful,
as some newly concocted confection.
Also, thoughts that might tempt,
are quickly met with rejection.
Fire, fire, burning bright,
weaving shadows from the night,
how did mortal man learn to
unlock the secrets within you?
From what darker, distant past
did we emerge, free at last,
once we'd learned to tame then free
thy flaming volatility?
For the magic of your light
gave us ways to fend off night,
steal back daylight, and explore
lands unseen by man before.
Fire, with your powers near,
we outshone our darkest fears
so that, in caves, we could start
making works of timeless art.
What hand or eye or mind was first
moved to quench deeper, inner thirsts;
to–with pigment, coal, or chalk–
imbue their Self upon the rock?
So, with these powers over dark,
one last thought was left to spark,
as we, through art, learned to see
our true immortality.
Cousins gather neath the table,
Gives us space to hear what we're able.
Tablecloth hangs down,
No one knows we're around.
To hear about the baby that was lost,
Or the aunt you better not cross.
The table becomes a fort,
Holding off the herd of shoes.
We giggle softly at all the news,
Can't believe how much they talk about the blues!
Perhaps that's why they have us about,
To fend off the news when our cousins are about!
I can be defensive, yes, it's true
A shield of protection, I construe
For wounds of the past still sting and burn,
Causing my cautious walls to discern.
But underneath this hardened shell,
Lies a heart that knows all too well,
The fear of being vulnerable and exposed,
Leaving me to fend off perceived foes.
So please be patient, understanding, and kind,
As I navigate this complex state of mind,
For behind the defenses that I wear,
Is a soul that longs to trust and share.
I adored your shape as a bottle of red wine,
But, close to spirit, you are the larger words and straight lines,
Thus crashing between logic and sense,
Whereas you, have been sold your soul to dark side.
There’s a commoner who cried to the cruel nature,
Who doesn’t appreciate the hunk’s armature,
Behold the truth, of the words, from the madman
Who talks with the tense of being mature:
“Being mature, is turning the mirrors
Into the windows.”
I been not to hesitated to searching truth,
As I look at the abstruse words of a tooth,
You never learn how to baulk or fend off the climature.
Alas, my fellow arch-pessimist,
Whom hither the gray zone, thither the lebensgefahr.
So many of us are feeling blue,
Because we do not know what to do
The world we all live in every day
It has gone askew and lost its way,
Away from all that we once knew
Faith, Sincerity, and integrity, to name a few
Of the necessities of life,
That helps to fend off trouble and strife.
Where have common sense and reason gone?
That makes many feel lost and alone.
Why do some feel a need to fight?
Is there no other way for the warriors
To see the light
And realise that making war makes matters worse
Which is a constant curse on our society.
Many lives have been ruined
for the maddest race known to us:
does money define success or happiness?
Why has greed motivated and fooled
the smartest people around?
Luxury comes from wealth, not sacrifice;
keeping it up is a must and should one lose
the privilege to look good and be admired will raise
brows and open the eyes to unexpected demise,
being deprived of comfortable things is obstruse!
Mark belonged to a corporate group that
generated billions selling stocks and bitcoins.
then came the pandemic and broke it apart;
he cried a lot and decided to slash his veins:
it cost his life, he chose darkness over light!
Everybody has gone their way,
they have trashed his memory;
his granite grave has no candles, no flowers:
revenge was done to bring justice to buyers
who trusted someone who handled shady deals!
Does money define success or happiness?
Can one get both by practicing deceit and be called elite?
None of these I have found yet, only stones that impede
glamour to enter the delusional senses:
am I brave enough to fend off tears?
The Walker
Sometimes, there is a sense that the road doesn't
roll out further, there is no vista of a highland or a slow-running river of sweet water to lazily swim
while remembering Marilyn in Lazaro's jewelry shop, a dream so vivid, not dim, as the years roll by.
It is time to take the boots out of the cupboard try them on, and feel how they make your feet walk
Travel light, a rucksack will do, and a solid walking stick to fend off dogs.
The upland has no rain, although it might shower
on the way there; at night, you can seek shelter
in an empty bear lair and sleep well till the thrush
says it is time to walk on if you want to find the place you know is there, over the horizon
In the dulcet knowledge of the longer one walks
the younger one feels.
Comes a time of unbreaking
what's broken
maybe broken to the point
a thing can't be fixed
ever
forever
severed.
To be sure prayers can find a home
but not when a divine plan's mark
is missed
yet must insist
with clenched fist
I resist.
A simple woodcarver, be
like Mister Geppetto
fend off a life of despair
perhaps with a little help from
a Fairy with Turquoise Hair.
For a creator
nothing causes elation
like its finest creation
seeking salvation.
All may end in ruin
in stringed freedom's destroy
it's never easy
bein' a wooden boy.
Life's call is abrupt
so keep your dukes up.
With the vagaries of weather,
One wishes one had Bird's feather
For a flight to a safer zone,
Where heat nor cold might crush the bone...
With the storms and ones of weather
Much focus on being together
He ceases who does wealth gather
Men with kids play roles of father
How many of us can storms weather
Without cast glances at Ether?
Who can cold fend off with cow leather
Or would bathe and soap calmly lather?
A docile lamb
among roaring lions
seems to be me;
I resist to become one of them:
look at crazy Jacob.
he runs a mouth found in a public pub
which is filthier than the mouth of Sam:
ah, he's terribly unkind to costumers!
If villains of all kinds
menace the meek ones
to adopt their awful ways:
they'll fail to entrap me!
A docile lamb
among roaring lions
seems to be me...
I am contrary
to their perception;
threaten me,
and I'll respond accordingly!
If they sling stones,
I'll shoot arrows:
who's mightier than me?
A docile lamb sleeping
gives no warning signs,
when anger suddenly strikes;
jeering faces showing invincibility
will freeze their frantic irony;
no battle ground, so frightening,
is ever won without a strategy:
a steel armor can fend off enemies!
Words will sour
in your lust
for power,
it is these
deeds
that come.
Prayer is lush,
it makes
one cower
but pure
is the cure
that scours.
I fend off
these baleful insults
which tumult
through my brave
innocence.
The flower
of the flesh
is stretched
into power.
I oft come
here
and smell
the daisies
by the lake,
where bones so
fresh
waste away
in your wake.
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