Healing and dealing
Stealing and reeling
Feeling the feeling
Wheelies down the spillway
Three’s a thrill
Another bill
Still...
I will!
Chill, with the window sill,
Skilled at raiding the mills,
Tilled until everyone who wants a chance can dance until-
The rest are nil haikus 4 reiki suing spells four ewe
I’ll hang with Jill ... s
HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
NARM HAWAE, NARM GATAYE — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
ZAKHMO JAFA YE TERE HAWALE — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
TEG-E-MASTAK, TEG-E-WAFA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
ZARB-E-ISHQ MERA BADAN — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
SAH-E-BALANDI, SAH-E-FASANA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
DIL PE DASTAK TERI IZZAT — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
MOHABBAT-E-KHAFA, DARD-E-WAFA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
MERA LAHU, TERI KHUSHBU — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
ISHQ-E-NIGAH, ROOH-E-HAYA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
TERA QADAM, MERA RASTA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
FARQ-E-RAFTA, SAATH-E-HAAL — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
TERA BADAN, MERI DEEWANI — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
NOOR-E-DIL, NOOR-E-SAFA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
TERA R.D., ISHQ-E-WAFA — HAY RE ISHQ, WAH RE WAH
row upon row
hay waits its fate with tractor
then lays low in barn
This man sang about the 'Land of thunder'
Although not a native.' Born in the land
Down under..Did he cut his knuckles in
Playgound fights.? Did he experience our 'very
Hot teenage' nocturnal delights.? can he
Really emphasize.? Outside of plastic cd's
Or distant downloads..If ya bloody please'
I say rack right off, you've f' aod enough' So at least from
Me.' its real hard cheddar, and more colourfull
Stuff
Just stay 'down-breeze'
For our nation is strong..And made you
play, a bonzer song, but ya know what colin.? You've had way
Too much now to say..And If you've heard of
Normie which you must have done.. Well
His song; tells me, your day is truly long gone.'
The difference is all the same,
in the end its just a name.
Different parts of the same tree,
we're from the same family.
The sky and its famous blue,
each day the sun shines anew.
Two lovers look at the stars,
she likes Venus he likes Mars.
Comes the first light of the dawn,
chasing the darkness, beyond.
The distant call of the dove,
spurs the couple to make love.
The summer will turn to fall,
winter nights when love will call.
The fortunes and the fables,
when springtime turns the tables.
Like the smell of new mown hay,
reminds when life came to play!
No more waiting or hesitating
taking off on a whim and a prayer
making do with whatever's there
going out on a limb
skating where the ice is thin
gotta get going as the going's good
gonna do what I can and should
on my way on the run
to make hay in the sun
not walking
now time's a wasting
while they're talking
nothing's being done
made my bed and I'll lie in it
come what may even die in it
'til that day dawns have to confess
I now know less
than I once knew
I am who I am's
why I do what I do
A randy, young couple out by the bay
decided to have a roll in the hay.
She pondered, in the moonlight,
"Aren't the stars pretty tonight?",
and he chuckled "I'm in no place to say!"
Say goodbye to May, Don't stay on the warm way, Bay sun emits warmer ray, Hot day makes grass as hay, And even clay becomes decay.
“I say, I say, pay attention when I’m talkin’ to ya, boy!” Classic line from Fog Horn Leghorn, a Looney Tunes character
A husband was prone to get details confused.
His wife told him this when she was not amused:
“I asked you to get just one thing that I needed.
When at last you returned, I was steamed.
It was clear that my simple request wasn’t heeded.
You should try your best to be redeemed.
I had asked for one pack of six corndogs; instead,
you brought six cans of corn and six dogs!
They all bark day and night, and they’ve taken our bed.
If I’d asked for bacon, would you have brought hogs?”
When the purple turtle visits the supermarket the heels are worn in two. Heaviness and heaving are one and the same.
The exact trajectory of a star is never the same as reducing a pile of eggs to a penny and the wisdom of a wise willing charlatan is never to be trusted when dressed up as a fox.
The fox is not a fox for it is indeed pretence and as pretences are not pretty but pretentious it can be ascertained that a screwdriver can be a skewer for a meat pile of mametz can be a mammoth montage of mammals.
What can you say when you sleep with the hay asked the lime flea to the capon cabbage?
2025.2.19.
My new piece of musics.
November last year,
I decided to play songs in different language.
Which I never done before,
I managed to do one piece per week.
After six weeks, some things happened,
The piano was taken away for tuning,
Then, the festive seasons arriving,
One thing after another,
I did not have any chance to play any music properly.
Then, after the New Year's celebrations ended,
I determined to play the 7th song,
By now, seven weeks have gone,
I still could not play it well.
There were still lot of songs,
I remembered from decades ago,
I still wanted to play them.
Probably, at the moment, I was too emotional,
I really needed to settle.
I had chances to post my poems,
That was what I wanted.
That should not stop me from playing music.
Has it got anything to do with the new projects?
Yes, they were very challenging,
But when I set mind to do it.
I decided to complete it before losing my visions.
A horse is really just a horse
We do know that of course
They cannot talk
So, we are told
But if I may be so bold
To remind you of a show of old
About one horse who was,
Supposedly, just a horse of course
He would eat all day
And when he was out of hay
Shout till he was hoarse
!!!!WILLLLLLBURRRRR!!!!
Hay Fields
Harvest of ripened fodder yields
In rolls of hay littering the fields.
Golden, dried under the sun,
For livestock winter consumption;
Who still graze in rich fall pastures,
Unaware of summer’s departure,
Fattening on earth’s green grasses,
Basking in the warmth of contentment.
Crops of vegetables: corn and potatoes;
Grains of barley, oats, flax, wheat, and canola.
Combines reaping, threshing, and winnowing
With other machinery, then tilling of the soil.
Where the farmer stands proudly gazing
Upon the harvest yield of their labour.
The fallow land, soon to be covered in snow
Awaits spring planting and growth revival.
apples, pumpkins, hay
Autumn’s sweet offerings flow
time to get cosy
by Zyrool
Hay the frog was pondering with strife
How would he justify living his life?
Would he be remembered even by his wife?
His heart felt as heavy as a butter knife.
Hay would not hop, croak or sing.
He was stuck on rewind, the poor thing.
Bemoaning his choices, like a ding-a-ling.
His friends rolled their eyes at the Debbie downer king.
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