To be one like them
They were climbing up a mountainside to get
a better view of the sea.
She reached the top before him, and he
breathed hard when he got up.
She laughed, pleased she had won, and he smiled
too, but was short on laughter.
He was strong, slim, and looked athletic, but
A doctor had told him his heart was weak
and not put strain on it, by too much sport.
His friends kidded him for his reluctance to
partake in long treks in the woods and
sleeping under canvas... slowly they drifted away
Or instead, he made himself absent because
He could not tell his friends about it, and they found
His cantankerous said he lacked the spirit of youth
and fun. Boring, his girlfriend told him before walking
off. He was so big and strong, but didn´t have
the strength- or was it vanity - to be one of them.
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
At the wharf I donned the Wellington boots
Of the fisher deceased, to trace my roots
And see and feel what it was like at sea
For my uncle a fishing devotee.
The clammy boots were three sizes too large.
I kidded myself that I could take charge,
And fill the boots with fishers' gait and guts
Aware the concept was deluded, nuts.
I felt the lure of expectation loom
As the trawler 'Gen' breached to break dawn's gloom
I embraced the hope of a bumper haul
Of keeper fish, not tiddlers, way too small.
I felt the surge of waves tug at the boots,
Like tentacles dragging against the roots
Which held my soles fast on the slimy deck.
The sea incessant for another wreck.
I felt fish guts, innards, blood and gore,
Slather on boots as fish were brought ashore,
And unloaded in bins brimful with ice.
At days end, bootlegging was hard but nice.
DIALECT recited in an English dialect &
by definitio
n is best heard than read-please go to the above youtube link
here is the words inmy local vernacular English
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
A moment in time
I remember a hot summer night
unusual hot for a Nordic country
all windows were open.
My mother, brother and sister sat around a table
drinking coffee.
It was a glorious moment
my happiness was so intense I cried
I knew this moment would not be repeated.
My brother kidded me, I take so quickly to tears
but I could not tell him the why
Without them, I feel so utterly alone, and they died too early
there was no time for a farewell.
I live in a foreign country the past is a treasured memory.
We started as one person, but the cell split
Into two, identicals.
Called “The twins”
Twinsies
The Stone Twins.
Neither of us had a name.
“You can have them both,” The athletes kidded each other.
When we reached Junior High school.
Did not matter what sport.
We were horrible at all of them.
The Stone Twins.
That was our identity.
My sister and I, neither having a name.
I was determined to get a name somehow.
I had to push off, shove off, run off.
And so I did.
Now I am a person.
With an identity.
Finally.
And I thank God for it.
Because I remember what not having one was like.
Snarly ghost gargoyle, spook and ghoul.
Boast that they’d boil Ole Luke McCool.
Frankenstein and gray mummy formed a team.
With sock dummy fruit flies, all quite mean.
Bad black cat crier dragged in new recruits.
Sat slack Fat Flier snagged two in cahoots.
Warlock introduced a magical knave.
Tomb raiders joined in, leaving a fresh new grave.
Who will we annihilate? Asked Ole Ugly Luke.
That he was even here was a computer fluke.
It’s not a rumble, the sage gargoyle said.
McCool’s wife added, are you whacked in the head?
But spook and ghost said they would boil you.
Stated some monsters. More than a few.
Luke laughed, certainly no real shock.
Monsters kidded like this around the tick tock.
We talk tough for children, to give them the creeps.
They love their monsters scary, in huge giant leaps.
It’s just talk? You ain’t gonna hurt anyone?
Certainly not, said the spooks. We say it for fun.
BUCKINGHAMSHIRE BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
She looked at him and smiled…while he embraced her as they sat.
“I love your arms she she whispered…have I ever told you that?”
“I like to think I am enchanting.,” he kidded… “that I am filled with grace and charm.
but I have to ask,” as he looked at them… “what’s so special about my arms.?”
“They are hairy, they swing when I walk,
most of the time they just hang down by my side…”
She smiled as she massaged them… “They do much more than that.” she sighed…
“These arms hold me when I laugh…they hold me when I cry.
sometimes I’ve felt like they were wings…and when I’m in them we can fly.”
“These arms have embraced the joys in my life…and on the other hand
at moments I’ve been sad…these arms seem to understand.”
“When you put these arms around me it immediately soothes my heart…
I can’t count the times they’ve held me together…
the times they’ve kept me from falling apart.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without these arms.” she said…
“For wherever the two of us roam…
whenever I am in these arms…
I know that I am home.”
He looked at her and smiled…
“No, you’ve never mentioned that…”
and then…
He asked as he embraced her…
“Could you tell me why…again?”
Aww love sweet love, is there anything finer
Than to snuggle and cuddle and coo
No need to be coherent or form real words
Your moaning will create the mood
You really could be quoting last night's results
Of the latest big-time sports events
Could even be reporting on a horrendous fire
Or a country impeaching a president
In the midst of each torrid lovemaking session
All else becomes actually secondary
Until that big moment, that moment so sublime
And it ends up as anything but ordinary
Now this is reality, have I kidded you before
When it comes right down to the basics
Everything's about satisfying our personal pleasures
And creating our own little oasis
Jesus was skeptical of his tribe, as a trainee carpenter
so lousy couldn`t even make a bookshelf, they kidded him
for that and Jesus took umbrage and criticized
the priests who served the Romans.
He took to hanging out with a group of radicals of the day
and since he was good with words, became their leader.
They had groupies too, one of them was Magdalena and
Jesus took a shine to her without saying so, but them all
knew from the way he looked at her.
Being admired by his flock, Jesus thought he could take
on the establishment, like when he chased money lenders
out of the temple; he was wrong.
When the Romans mocked him and crowded him a king,
he thought the people would come to save him, no such
a thing happened, he was strung up (Crucified).
The women came to his rescue, healed his wounds and
sent him to France where he took the name of Pierre,
married Magdalena had seven children and was
a much-respected Goldsmith
White Eagle
On my walk, I saw a big, white eagle with an enormous
wingspan, flying low and in circles as it was looking for
Something in the bush landscape. It the steadfast
the gaze of a seraph that had to judge angst ridden souls
which claimed the meant no harm when they had sinned,
it had been with humour and fairness.
It flew higher and in wider circles till it disappeared and
blended in with the afternoon sky.
Back home I told Ernesto I had seen a white eagle, he had
never seen one, though it was a pity I didn`t have a rifle
to shoot it, His Maria, was more severe, said I had seen an angel,
crossed herself, wore a shawl over a greying hair and
Went to mass. Ernesto and I went to the bar; he told regulars
I had seen an angel; they kidded me greatly
At home, in the night, sitting by the fire – spring evening
can be chilly- where I live, seeing the flapping fire wings
of burning aromatic olive wood, I said to myself; wouldn’t
be nice if Maria was right?
re-post inspired by Constance D form contest
A BUCKS BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
In my local English Dialect
The View
They were climbing up a mountainside to get
a better view of the sea.
she reached the top before him, and he
breathed hard when he got up.
She laughed pleased she had won he smiled
too but was short on laughter.
He was strong, slim and looked athletic but
a doctor had told him his heart was weak
and not put strain on it, by too much sport.
His friends kidded him for his reluctance to
partake in long treks in the woods and
sleeping under canvas... slowly they drifted away
or rather he made himself absent because
he could not tell his friends about it they found
him cantankerous said he lacked the spirit of youth
and fun. Boring, his girlfriend said before walking
off. He was so big and strong, but didn´t have
the strength- or was it vanity - to be one of them.
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
Dialect from aound Aylesbury Vale ,England
hear me read this on youtube @ http://youtu.be/RfQCyNiNDAY
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