“A brownie or broonie (Scots), also known as a brùnaidh or gruagach (Scottish Gaelic), is a household spirit or hobgoblin from Scottish folklore that is said to come out at night while the owners of the house are asleep and perform various chores and farming tasks.” ~ Wikipedia
“We look at spirit not at form
Our touch is gentle, kind and warm
We but reflect God’s love and light
‘Tis the path to which we conform”
So, sing the lively Brownies
in the mists of Scottish Lorne,
and to the mists of other townies,
traveling in wee hours of the morn,
lightening good people’s burdens
with unselfish, friendly deeds
in their kitchens and their gardens,
thinking of their neighbor’s needs.
Though in life, we get so very tired,
by wee Brownies, can we be inspired?
fantastic faerie
powerful pixie
generous gremlin
darling devilkin
greenish gargoyle
ferocious fey
terrible troll
spirited sprite
goofy gremlin
dragonfly
damselfly
hobgoblin
brownie
urchin
imp
The Who’s were all gathered one Thanksgiving day.
Their little brains pondered what games they might play.
They’d already feasted so royally that
they couldn’t stand up from the place where they sat.
They’d hobgoblin-gobbled their fish with no break
when they pigged out on pork and a juicy beast steak.
On Yorkshire pudding so puffy and yummy
they soaked up their gravy and filled up their tummy.
They tore into trifle. Someone blew a raspberry!
Toffee pudding so sticky made each Who so merry.
They guzzled mulled wine - those Who over-eaters.
Oh how they guzzled those big wine-filled liters.
They’d wanted to think up fun games, but each Who,
by the time they stopped feasting, could not a thing do!
Their tooting and pooting turned into their game,
and I’m thankful no Who in that room lit a flame!
stand here
and stead
with staff
in hand
tawed
tined
and staid
Hob –
goblin
he, a
tricky
ol’ fellow
haughty
‘n hasty
in greed
sails fully set
anchor revved high
and rudder set
yet there is no wind
and no current
with the moon
an innocent bystander
watching a deceptive calm
waiting to rage
a dolphin encourages tranquility
but a mermaid surfaces
and bids her farewell
safe voyage she mocks
calls upon sea shells
to propel an ancient message
too often ignored
which only the hobgoblin
understand the full extent of
with longing and despair
the traveler throws
a small pebble into the ocean
ripples appear for a few moments
until a fog horn appeals for more movement
as the sea can be precarious
when waves and tides’ danger
appear only to be on the inside
Oh! That Dear Old Bugbear
That nasty old Hobgoblin of English 16th century
lore replete with its ugly, mischievous behavior.
At once, frightful and always exciting one’s fears,
whilst creating a true sense of dread and macabre.
Even for those who are dismissive of the Bugbear,
knoweth that this Hobgoblin’s existence is spectral.
As one sleeps so deeply in the darkness of the night,
Beware! This is when the Bugbear initiates its fright!
And so, when you hear a creaking of your bedroom
door at night, face your fear now, turn on that light!
And what you may see may be nothing at all . . . yet,
that Bugbear of dread might be lying under your bed!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November 22, 2020 (Couplet)
Forever Ever or Never
Forever does it exist? Forever is never doesn’t exist. It betrays hearts, breaks bones in its subtle nuances. It takes love, makes it eternal but it’s not. There is nothing just worn down cloth from the gaggery. No one has any right to tell. Love has no name so don’t expect it to deliver your lusty pleasures.
Aphrodite has a mirror_ it reflects your world of despicable lust. Her voice flogs those who use its dance for uppity pose.
Freyja was here with Eros flown away.
I am impassioned with this. Never born_trapped in mother’s uterus_screaming forever. But you released me. This hideous hateful horrid hobgoblin always down inside inner core gutter’s sewer range. Crawling with the dregs- scrags_ slags lovers who have been banished for a dream of sensuality.
Unbeknown to every scab here, I am to see_ relish freedom_ hovering, staggering towards my light, the golden globe IBurning gone but not forever as there is no ever or nowhere forgone. Person of steel lifts me out of the gutter- carrys me on her back to the hollowmen hole. I’m gone.
Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight,
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes.
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy.
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense,
swallowing the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb,
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.
gravity craves in the sky
weightless surrender -
comet reaches rock bottom
tides foam a lullaby
crested lengths wave -
ripples focus underneath
horizon lingers abreast
pain drenched capture -
currents expose lost hope
a life buoy tied to an anchor
flare soaked in life’s blood -
cess pool seizes cessation
atlantis meet nirvana
tranquility draws in the sand-
jetsam leads the way
the saviour dies dried tears
an offering’s nail to the cross -
hobgoblin mocks the journey
drift wood walks on water
parts with seven wild seas -
beach hut shelters new dreams
a lonely star fish grants company
octopus offers eight fold path -
tentacles points to serenity
shooting star recovers attraction
wings hardship and meaning -
levitation mediates sorrow
earth-wind meets fire
mermaid shares fins -
life life rescues calm voyage
07th February 2020
I have a strange malady
curiously effecting me
for I am very susceptible
to words of a variety
Words like cushlamachree
or hobbledehoy
give me such joy...
that my brain begins burbling
at a fantastic rate
things like bamboozle, bumfuzzle
blatteroon, and bombinate!
Bogged down in boondoggled
bedraggled, beware
I'm not making sense
and I really don't care!
Gushing galoot, galumph, galore
something inside crying
more, More, MORE!!!
I'm an insatiable verbavore!
Flippantly tripping through
flibbertigibbet, flumadiddle
filipendulous to the stupendous
sounds of mellifluous eutony
I am getting so tongue-tied here
my mouth is in mutiny!
But, oh my Dearie-
there's whigmaleerie
wifty, whimsical...
mugwump, moppet
words keep wheeling through my head
'though silly, I can't stop it!
For there's slubberdegullion
mollycoddle, hobgoblin
and gumption, too!
With all the splendiferous words about...
what's a logoleptic to do?
A hobgoblin sandwich, please.
Yes, my date was such a tease.
The waitress smiled with ease.
One small hiccup and a sneeze.
Appetizer, gorgeous cheese.
Honey bread from their own bees
Twelfth date? Oh, yes, oh please.
Dates do not get better than these.
End of date, he was on his knees
Speaking love with so much ease,
Waitress thought he was a tease.
But I knew better if you please.
The wind was kind, a gentle breeze.
The night was great, as was the cheese.
I said yes, with love and ease.
Now we are Mr. and Mrs. R.L. Lees.
He lived in the basement
hairy and mischievous
haunting the unwary
helpless little household.
How could they get rid of
him? Shakespeare found a way:
Had him Puck in a play!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Pleiades - H
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
© 18th February 2017
Thinking I knew you from your smile
you wormed your way in with guile
my bete noire*, my bogey man
long of tooth and without a clan
I let you in, a worm with style.
le grand faux pas*, angel vile,
seeming weak, yet, so versatile.
Hobgoblin of dread, bogey man
Thinking I knew
Shrink back now into your defile
of sagging skin and toothy smile.
But, I have seen a reviled hand
and my open heart still here stands
wishing sweetness all the while
Thinking I knew
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