hello hail-fellow, comradely friend, glad to see you back and read you
One day, we’re up, a mindless soul.
Upon rising, we dare extol
a friend with praise on just a whim
and then the next day, slander him.
Behavior talks without control.
Vexation and steadfastness clash
to build impressions made of ash.
Resolve to reach the wiser choice
judicious forethought, then rejoice
beyond just framing photoflash.*
Hail fellow, speak what you believe
and watch your deeds, lest you deceive
by conduct, values you profess.
Caprice, says spider, spins in stress
a whimsy web, not worth the weave.
“photoflash –a brief pulse of high current with little heat.
December 7, 2022
Limericks dé-crochetés: Is not shame self-humiliation
Is not shame self-humiliation
To be thought of with condescension
All men know some disgrace
Except those without grace
Dignity’s the art of pretension
The man who fears not leaving this world
E’en without heir his name can fame mould
Knows no shame brought by birth
All’s forgiven in mirth
Though what lies ahead mayn’t rightly be told
Memory’s a wild accusing thing
It best serves those who here nothing bring
Nothing take on way out
Nothing leave to shout ‘bout
What one forgets might well be no-thing
Think of all the pain one puts up with
Just for the sake of the ego myth
To be thought of well - swell
Hail fellow well met - hell !
Who e’er lived to de-mystify death
Shame’s the pain we face in hour of need
Stand alone you’ll likely go to seed
Join the crowd to feel proud
The name well-clothed in shroud
All the shame humiliation must feed
End of day finds us shoring up shame
Orchestrated scenes of death-bed fame
Funerals in black staid
Write-ups by friends well-paid
All to keep shame hidden in the name
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
When Death comes knocking at your door
Rail,resist or recoil at her call
The inevitable and rarely welcome visitor
To Her succumb must we all
To Her cold and chilling embrace
When with Her we come face to face
Cold comfort in being clasped
To Her icy bosom at last.
Larger than life is this devil,
No hail fellow well met
Before Her will we all shrivel
As She rolls Her dice ,Her net,
Until up comes our number
When we must succumb to Her
With Her shears She readily clips
And our life threads She swiftly snips
Sardonic yet unsatisfied with Her store
She hies off with Her earthly winnings
Insatiably in search of ever more
Desperate to end another innings
Knowing only full well
That Her cup will never be at full swell
Nor capture the essence
Of any mortal presence.
Hail-fellow-well-met had hair of the dogs
A little pipped up to scare off the fogs
A sip and a trip
A night of a strip
All made Hail-Fellow a passel of hogs
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