Whispy breeze giggles with ease
cool is rippled river clear
willows weep not as we lovingly tease
rainbow trout jumping, a catch
will be dear
Our porcelain legs, arms encircle loose
larks, butterflies flutter around scented spruce
eyes holding sacred stars from Venus and Mars
we left picnic basket in homing stars
Family wondering whether catch will be salmon
then no need for ordinary dinner gammon
my arms so strong, I’m the provider
always beside her, sister the flowery
insider !
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O
[ Painting: Original Title: La pêche à la ligne
ARTIST : FRANCOIS BOUCHER
Date: 1752
Style: Rococo
Genre: pastorale
Media: oil, canvas
Location: Grand Trianon, Paris, France
Dimensions: 150 x 188 cm ]
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2nd Placement: Premier Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand : March 26
Silver Digital Trophy : All Poetry Ekphrasis
Contest : March 26
We dined at a Hungry Horse pub
and sampled some delicious grub
We tried curries and pies
Lovely gammon and fries
But now I can’t fit in the tub!
6th April 2017
Black plays red in age old battle
A click or two as dice are shaken.
Collect your thoughts before moving
Keeping a close eye on the count.
Gammon could be on the cards
As you counter move against Red.
Much jubilation as you hit a stone
Marching Red quickly to the bar.
Oh no, back in with a vengeance
Now Black becomes the under dog.
25 hours of sit down in a basket is not a notable worthy way to spend time or adjust. One should not place antlers in fridges for a gammon steak could rise to form a dough ball. Disregarding a helium balloon made from mashed potatoes is quite relevant at this time. And fleeing from fleeces is great fun in many fields. Always watch a magisterial mouse. They are quite fascinating and can tell the time backwards whilst spinning. Spiritual spirited sprites. *** hahahaha and number of pointed noses on the fishes. 1 2 3 4 5 inflexibility x.z.x
For ever- and a thousand years, Africa has been our home,
and when our ancestors returned to dust, they became her fertile loam.
So the dust of the deserts and of the plains is part of our ancient line,
and their age-old voice has whispered to us, from before the beginning of time.
Their spirit’s calls out, for you to return, and visit them if you will,
so you finally came back, to the cradle of man, to answer this ancient pull.
By now you know, the fate I warned, has inevitably come to pass-
that the dust of Africa has filtered in, and found its way to your heart!
Now the ancient motes of the ancient land, evermore will be
embedded in your head, and in your heart, where you may think none can see
-but the ancients know, that your visit home has made you, for the first time, whole
and that the land of your fathers, fathers, father is now infused in the depths of your soul.
So they will sing in your sleep, to their dust in your veins, more sweetly than ever before
till you return once again, to journey with them through the land that gave birth to us all
Russell Gammon
Roll in the mud, thrice wielding the ice pick.
La La La down the lane escaping the elusive carving knife. No chop, no gammon, no other porkly tale, round is good and round is ham and a pig I am.
Is that very great and interesting? I am unsure as I go to lie down to begin my sleep of snout snore in a bed of baked bap.
Marmalade glazed gammon pork
venison stuffing
turkey breast with all trimmings
chestnut meringue and
cream pudding cigars
mince pies and
Punch!
The smell is good
Just look at the pud
Gammon, Turkey and Beef
Life’s turned over a new leaf
A few balls of stuffing
They aint made of nuffing
Many calories they carry
It’s the sausages I want to marry
Grease torpedoes and crispy potatoes
We know where all that goes
Straight to the hips
For some taste bud kicks
Oh well
Diet go to hell.
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