Tradition.
Cast aside by noise
As worldy attention
Tears and cloys
Permission.
For generous space
To return to stare
Full into the face
Decision.
To walk a monastic way
Brief encounter
At the start of the day
Listen.
To the space in-between
Where God himself
Chose to intervene
Condition.
The soul and heart
Through stillness
Let the healing start
Jinjagoliath
3rd September 2023
(In memory of Lesley Sutton)
in a dream a record store
groovy man its lesley gore
voice mid soprano
and a piano
sleepy sandmans muzak score.
High school days
I listened to Lesley Gore sing
Day dreaming
Sometimes feeling like a fool
You Dad’s car
I gave you my high school ring
Friday nights
Trying so hard to act cool
Days flew by
Spent so much time together
Two young kids
In a small world of their own
Your Dad’s car
Sunshine or stormy weather
Drive in show
Soda and an ice cream cone.
Years go by
Felt the sunshine and the rain
Stood together
Butting heads against the wall
Life went on
Took the happiness with the pain
Staying strong
When the storms passed we stood tall
Stories told
By the lines carved in our faces
Photographs
All those memories make me blue
Thinking back
To other times and other places
After all these years
I’m still in love with you.
I’m facing a challenge and I’m taking bets
That I can remember the names of my pets
There’s Tommy and Jonnie and Sally and Barry
The one over there I believe might be Harry
Tiddles and Wriggles and Bruno and Gerry
Never stray far from their bestest mate Terry
But Sue, Lou and Nancy, Alberto And Drew
Appear to be loners, a bit like Baloo
That crowd to one side hang around in a gang
But seem to be led by Mei Ling and Chang
Now, can I recall who the rest of them are
I’ll try but they all look the same from afar
Lee, James, Amanda, Frank, Annie and Les
Annabelle, Gilbert, Wilbert and Dez
Sonya, Sam, Lesley-Anne, Mary-Lou, Bess
Stephanie, Bethany, Cuthbert and Jess
Edward and Jedward, Samson and Ben
Zebedee, Gerry-Lee, Timothy, Jen
Josh, Tod and Spartacus, Abbie and Sid
Oliver, Gulliver, Billy the Kid
There’s Tyson and Dyson, and Eric and Jim
And Betty and Hetty, Jemima and Kim
I got them from someone who lives down the road
And carried them all to my humble abode
I needed no crate cos the breeder had bowls
He told me that’s how one should carry tadpoles
To Lesley do I owe a big debt
No more over verse will I ever sweat
Reading her nuanced advice between the lines
My motivation to versify sharply declines
It has become clear to me that my rotten rhyme
Is so very close to being a humanitarian crime.
So,Ms Duncan,to you must I convey my thanks
That no longer will I invest in poetry banks.
Now must I banish my obsession with a final farewell
And consign all future thoughts of poetry to the fires of hell.
Without me,may all you genuine poets flourish
And your love of poetry always and ever nourish.
With a truly sad heart I do lay down my pen
And I will not demean Parnassus ever again
And yet who can ever be fully sure and rightly know
When the Pierian spring through one will once again flow?
The long kiss had finished but still we embraced,
love's giddiness filling our heads,
your gaze locked on mine then you spoke, soft and low,
“ I'll love you forever” you said.
But after forever came Bev and then Rachel,
and then Corrinne and Kirstie and Ruth,
also Lesley and Janet so it does seem to me that
forever is short, that's the truth.
For contest 'After forever', sponsor John Lawless
Agoraphobia
I lifted my glass of red wine, towards the lamplight as seeing
it through a dreamy haze, what I saw was a dirty glass full
of finger marks; couldn`t blame the barman since I was alone,
and dreaming of being an actor.
I was on stage once – a friend of mine was an actor- it was
terrifying I forgot the lines “dinner is served, my lord.”
I saw my friend act in a movie, made in Portugal he was Lesley Howard
and was perfect in his role.
This is about agoraphobia which has blighted my life and has disappointed
many by a promise to show up and not going, feign I got the date wrong.
I told that too –tom Hardy who swore he could cure me hence my little role;
Well, Tom died.
My wife has gone to a party, and I`m looking after the cat, it does
not know how famous I could have been.
(Lesley Ann Down was an actress in
the Golden Age of live TV drama.)
We live in an age of midgets.
There are no seers now, only lookers,
no values left, apart from digits.
Cash is the hook, and we’re all hookers,
no Carmen Joneses, only Bridgets.
Did you have to learn the equation
(“have to”? – what an odd suggestion!)
which represents acceleration?
It’s printed now, beside the question.
No gravity, just gravitation.
Subtitle writers, now, can’t spell,
and language teachers know no grammar.
When banks are hiring tellers, well,
in Alabaster, Alabama,
they sing aloud, “You Never Can Tell”.
Let’s get somewhat more sarcastic.
Our carpenters just never get wood.
Today our craftsmen just squirt mastic,
then, as any moron could,
they clip on bits of precut plastic.
We’ve got police (I like this best!)
who, far from being Texas Rangers,
have never passed exams or tests,
and can’t, by law, face any dangers,
or run rash risks, like make arrests.
No Richard Rodgers, Buddy Holly,
no more Stoller (as in Lieber),
but ‘tis the season to be jolly –
after all, there’s Justin Bieber!
Hence, loathéd melancholy!
A Birthday Party
Today's my birthday and
There's a party and a band.
It's such a jolly time
Except I don't feel I'm
Ready for fun and games
And learning people's names.
I'm being pressed to eat
Things savoury and sweet.
There's trifle down my frock,
This evening's such a shock.
I'm just not in the mood
To contemplate this food.
I s'pose that they mean well
And I must never tell
How I really feel,
Be grateful for the meal.
Oh look, a glass of wine!
Now that will do just fine.
Another one or three,
That always works for me,
It'll blur the jolly scene
And make me feel quite mean.
The music's much too loud,
I don't know half this crowd,
That man and microphone
Should have stayed at home.
But I'll put on a show
And then they'll let me go.
A tear, a sob and more,
Remember Lesley Gore:
It's my Party
and I'll cry if I want to,
Cry if I want to,
Cry if I want to,
...................
In response to an Internet company and its plans to market T shirts featuring an inhumane human being.
Come gather round people, come gather round more
Come buy your T shirt, with its tale of the moor
Come buy your T shirt and wear it with pride
A. T shirt, full of history, when five children died
Come wear your Myra, then come round my home
I will show you the horrors, that will make you atone
Come wear your Myra, then come to our towney
We will show you how we feel about Lesley Ann Downey
Come wear your Myra, come make our hearts bleed
We will show you how we feel, about poor Pauline Reade
Come show your T shirt, if you like your roulette
We will show you our feelings, on poor Keith Bennett
Come pose in your Myra, while we are at six's and sevens
We will show you our feelings, on poor Edward Evans
Come show your Myra and stand by our side
We will show you our thoughts, on poor John Kilbride
Come show us your Myra, come knock on our door
We will take you for a ride up on Saddleworth moor
Suffer little children to come untio
o me,then stand and watch as paedophiles get caught,tried then set free,
But you know the way it is today,there's just no room in jail,so the dregs of our society end up released on bail,
See all you do good idiots who plead thier case in court,for the sexually abused and defiled won't you please spare a thought,
Don't you see that to forgive these men we simply can't afford,'cause paedaphilias terminal,a disease that can't be cured,
Like vultures nonces hover,they wait patiently until,they see a little boy or girl then go in for the kill,
Remember little Lesley-ann,Kieth Bennett,Jeanette Tate?just how much for a childs lost life are you willing to compensate?
And what about the families?they're the victims left behind,d'you think while these men walk 'round free they'll find thier peace of mind?
So suffer little children 'cause I know the things you see,I know just how you suffer,'cause you suffer just likem me.
A WISH -- In Memory Of
"I Wish"
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I wish,
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.
In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 --- RIP March 25, 2013
----------
by;PD :-(
Agoraphobia
I lifted my glass of red wine towards the lamplight as seeing
the light through a dreamy, rosy haze; I saw a dirty glass
full of fat finger marks I could not blame the barman since
I was alone at home thinking I should have been an actor.
I went on stage once an actor friend of mine, Tom Hardy was
rehearsing a play, all those empty seat looking at me I was
consumed with limelight fear. Tom loved his calling, he never
made it big but loved his craft, I saw him play Lesley Howard
in a movie made in Portugal and he was perfect for the role-
This really is about agoraphobia which has blighted my life and
I disappointed many by promising to appear at a public do and
not showing up and feigning mix up of dates. I told Tom, swore
he could cure me, by me taking none speaking role in a play.
Well, Tom died.
My wife’s gone to a party I’m looking after the cat and she don’t
know how famous I could have been
Suffer little children to come unto
me,
Then stand and watch as pedophiles
get caught tried and set free,
But you know the way it today
there's just no room in jail,
So the dregs of our society end up
released on bail,
See all you do good idiots who plead
their case in court,
For the sexually abused defiled won't
you please spare a thought,
Don't you see that to forgive these
men we simply can't afford,
pedophilias terminal a disease that
can't be cured,
Like vultures nonces hover they wait
patiently until,
They see a little boy or girl then go in
for the kill,
Remember little Lesley ann,Keith
Bennett,Jeanette Tate?
Just how much for a childs lost life
are you willing to compensate ?
And what about the families and the
victims left behind?
D‘you think while these men walk
free they'll find their peace of mind ?
So suffer little children cause I know
the things you see,
I know just how you suffer cause you
suffer just like me.
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