Long 'birthday Poems
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What do you believe?
What do you know?
did you have any clue i read tarot cards professioanlly for the oldest restarunt built
in my city
and predict surprised birthday parties that have passed
and cfan tell you all sorts of secrets of exaggerated emotion and paranoia
that only the moon knows
So like the life lesson of the hanged man
are you here to realise you are gullible or to see through me and know ive been
telling the truth
is this a test for you flase prophet
or your spiritual awakening with another card before you saying all of my poetic
poems that sound personal are nothing more than fabrications
and many of you judge me
and that further goes to prove my writing ability?
Is it true do i know anything of being bonded to the material
and the devil who reminds me the keys to my chains are within my grasp
And the tower of unforseen catastrophe always has a happy ending or a rainbow
but only a true prophet in the year 2012 in las vegas understands the
conspirtualacy of my craft
Is the hierophant all about the conformity of society
and the grouping together of the nonconformidt youth
so when the saints and sinners pull to gether to revolutionise and pull this star
from the sky will our dreams or nightmares come true?
Tell me prophet Am i a fool because the magician never taught me his tricks
but i understand the perfect shufles and have a deck of freudian slips of my own?
the blue moon sunrise and the three levels of the game of reality
we take babysteps of fear to beat or fail to proceed or return to the start
Where exactly is the emperor's crown of authority when society understands the
slide of psychology
and the one of a million being catered to
and the billion sof like minded individuals that spiral out from this psychological
understanding
Am i in the driver seat of the chariot and do i have enough temperance
to balance the forces of good and bad to see the pros and cons
of the blessings and ultimatums of desires and consequence
were you gullible all this time to fall for my lies?
or were you smart enough to see them as works of art?
or are you a true prophet and need to start the revolution from the earth and the
pollution of our skies
here i am
a false martyr
tell me prophet whats in store for me
and what am i to do?
Bridgett Faerie leapt from the flames with a pop and a fizzle
Delighting her elemental dad, Hellfire, wielder of the flame
Her mother gave her the power to make leaves dance
Her purpose not apparent yet, but she was magnificent.
Hair in shades of copper we did not know had been invented.
She stood on the tallest log and stared us down, Then she flew.
New faeries can hardly ever fly. We gasped.
"Forty-one years since I saw a first day flyer,"
one of the elderly brownies whispered.
Bridgett landed next to her.
"Hi!" she said. The whole council laughed.
"She is precocious," one of the faeries said.
Bridgett turned.
I saw her face for the first time;
oval with laughing caramel eyes.
Her nose was a tiny ski slope, a tiny lift at the end. She wrinkled it.
"Where are the leaves?" she demanded. "I want to get started."
Even Hellfire was astounded; he had six daughters but not this one
Until today. She would be a force to be honored and revered.
Her snotty sisters began to make fun of her,
pretending non-jealousy.
Hellfire gave them a look and there was instant silence.
"Are those my SISTERS?" Bridgett shrieked with delight.
She flew over and hugged every one of them. Then she flew away.
How could someone with such tiny feet be so assertive?
No fairy had ever started working on their birthday before today.
Oak tree leaves began floating down into the fire.
The fire popped and crackled faster and faster.
"I love this job!" Bridgett yelled from a branch forty feet up.
Hellfire looked frightened for the first time.
He had never had a daughter who was more like his wife.
His wife flew past him to help her daughter.
That rarely happens on birthing day either.
"A mini-me-of-Enthusiasm Faerie!" someone said.
Others cheered. Someone clapped Hellfire on the back.
"Now there are two of them, he said."Good luck!"
Bridgett's twin sister Brewit popped out of the flames next.
"Surprise!" She yelled. "There are two of us Daddy!"
Hellfire's mouth dropped open. He had felt outnumbered before.
But never suffered anything like this. Brewit gave him a big hug.
Then she flew up with to join her mother and her sister.
A wonderful day in the woods, one we have never forgotten
Although that was twenty-seven years ago.
The story has been told thousands of times.
And put into the imaginations of many. Their purpose: Joy.
The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear,
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.
The air alive with songs of praise,
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.
The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.
The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!
I thought to when my mother took my hand.
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.
I never lost my youthfulness,
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.
A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
The morn's alive with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear,
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.
The air alive with songs of praise,
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.
The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.
The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!
I thought to when my mother took my hand.
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds loud,
and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.
I never lost my youthfulness,
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.
A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow!
I don’t think I shall quite forget the name Camilla Martin.
She’s the teacher of me grandson at the local kindergarten.
No question she’s a lovely lady; dedicated through and through,
but the lesson that she learnt this day is one that I learnt too.
It just happened on the day I drove young ‘Gaz’ to kindergarten,
there’s a special birthday happening - it’s his teacher Mrs. Martin.
I wondered why young Gazza had this present all wrapped up,
so after telling me the reason, he whispered “It’s a cup.”
It was a special morning for all the Mums and Dads were there.
I was the only Grandpa but young Gazza didn’t seem to care.
There’s a birthday cake with candles, lollies, hats and lemonade,
and the kids all brought a present … and I’m glad I overstayed …
To see the look upon the faces of the kids who held their gift,
as Mrs. Martin stood up at the front to give these kids a lift,
by waiting to receive each offer as presented one by one,
and she really liked the cup handed to her by me grandson.
And the other little children were quite interesting as well,
as they stepped up to the podium with a similar tale to tell,
when Mrs. Martin made predications to what the wrapping held,
for she knew the parents business thinking that their gift has gelled.
She’s spot on with Jenny Damon whose family own a florist store.
Mrs. Martin beamed out “Flowers,” and Jenny smiled, “For sure.”
When the local milk bar’s Billy Cann stepped up beaming bright,
Mrs. Martin said “This must be chocolate,” and Billy nods “That’s right.”
Mrs. Martin waited patiently for ‘Ginger’ Roberts from the hotel,
who stepped forward with his gift that she thought that she could tell,
because it appeared somewhat a shoebox that did have an ominous sign;
it appeared a bottle’s leaking and she gathered it was wine.
Mrs. Martin put her finger in the liquid but the taste to her is strange,
and for a joke she said to ‘Ginge’, “Is this not Penfolds Grange?”
‘Ginge’ answered “No” so Mrs. Martin tried to guess again,
with one more taste upon her lips, she asked, “Is this champagne?”
‘Ginge’ shook his head when saying “No”, so Mrs. Martin gave a sigh,
“Well I give up,” she smiled at ‘Ginge’ “No, I’ll give it one more try.”
So on her lips goes one last taste to resolve this gift of grog
as Ginger interrupted - “Mrs. Martin … it’s a little puppy dog.”
Unaffordable, yet valiant speeding,
tailgating, and zooming Pep Boys, I cannot dodge.
Yours truly grief stricken
(sob... sob... sob)...
wheely hard to bear
this anticipatory anxiety
riddled joker impossible
mission thwarting despair
death knell tolled (told),
woebegone news, I did fear
hears stunned me into silence,
the unwelcome prognosis,
I needed to hear
no joke, but good humor
totally wrecked vehicle forces
yours truly to become...,
no not a lion tamer
but, yes a panhandling junketeer
begging, copping, dilly dallying... ha
to accept unpleasant
unexpected dire straits
gravely digging within lithosphere
bidding... fare thee well
treasured automobile faithful and near
synonymous with ideal paramour, yet now
must confront stark reality,
lack ample disposable income available
no financial resources to persevere,
and worse case scenario me
and the missus will need to don
faux Santa Claus outfit,
and roundup available reindeer
for ourselves (yea... yea... yea...,
I realize how spare
and tired, pessimistic,
forlorn success such short notice
unless if... nah no fat or slim chance...
apocalypse ushers abominable thermonuclear
war, (I doubt Trump would
pull publicity stunt
to be re elected - ha) whereby
Beatle browed, foo fighting
foreigners, survivors impressed, feted,
compensated... for service
unless they willingly volunteer.
Combination future pluperfect
birthday presents and Noel hi
Christmas gifts well nigh,
noah ark cake "FAKE" attempt,
to hoodwink, engine ear,
trunk hate, et cetera
drum, harp, trumpet... belie
including objective to shanghai,
nor fall out of good amazing graces
toward (me) garden variety generic guy
providing steadfast generous
figurative air supply to fortify,
revving me shaky talent,
ye may oft times decry
as unintelligible gobbledygook
brainstorming ideas to try
single handedly ambidextrously
poetically kindle indeed codify
to elucidate how transportation
car reared and gone awry
moderate expenses as original parts wear out,
(i.e. battery, fender, brakes,
hood latch, shock absorber, tires...
albeit almost all simultaneously), hence I sigh
aware expounding circumstance that doth defy
immediate resolution incumbent to pacify
troubleshoot immediate impasse
squarely render quintessence
problem solving the overriding
challenge, I vilify.
To MOM; March 11,1979
This is the story of an animal trainer,
Whose mettle and courage, couldn't be plainer.
A search'd reveal if you'd care to explore,
None greater exists than El Eleanor.
She's faced the very meanest big game
And transformed them all , smiling and tame.
There's Big Daddy Harry, King of the Brood,
He fights in the jungle and brings home the food.
When the hunting is hard, his scorn can be raw.
El soothes the pain, takes a thorn from the Pa.
The next animal is Rusty the Red.
The patron saint of unmade beds.
A beast of habits, bad ones galore,
His head s in the clouds, his, clothes on the floor.
El's plans are to put an end to his bad mannered life,
By chasing him within,an inch, of. his wife.
Lindsey's the next, she's no longer wild.
El taught her well when she was. a child,
Out of the home and into the night,
She's now a trainer in her own right.,
By way of taming by putting a smile on,
She's done a dog, a .cat, and one big Italian.
The animal Robert likes his milk whole,
Drinks only unmixed, unopened and cold.
Devour, he can, a whole pound of meat,
Sharing with him sure ain't a treat.
El''s main defense against his devour'n,
Is a refrigerator as big as a cavern.
Next on the tour tour is Kristin Clothes-Horse.
Her closet is full, but never her purse.
El hopes to prevent a new"confederacy"
One which would a poor man, namely, "Poverty Lee".
Now we find Jenny the Baker.
With time, she's become quite the good pastry maker.
Jenny however''s a wrestling cook,
An odd combination that's not in the book,
She has her own reasons, for truth to tell, son,
The cooking is a wrestling move called a"full Nelson".
Hilary's a creature who likes to get around
In automobiles at the speed of sound.
She doesn't always though, 'specially not at night,
Then she likes to travel at the speed of light.
It's hard to see now but she's on the track,you see,
Of her own future business - called Hilary's Taxis.
Nori's the last, but not the least,
A full member of this zoo, and like the rest a beast.
A paradox of sorts, this Blue Prize winner,
Is proof that church schools are chock full of sinners,
Thus we are the animal house,
And though we may complain and grouse,
Everyone, no matter his status,
Thinks El Eleanor's got to be, the World's Greatest!
Happy Fifty-fifth Birthday,
From son Rusty,
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
Ben and Cora Green had seven children, like calendar pages turning;
Each one born on a different weekday, like mango sun, forever burning.
Zoe was pretty, with big eyes and dimples, while Leah loved dancing,
Yet, Bill was sort of a pessimist; like when mystic trouble is glancing.
Edward had a zeal for jogging, while Ruth ran many errands for free.
James always had a part time job. Pete was all sunshine, very happy.
Fun barbecues attracted friends, to lawns of families and red flowers;
When fluff, sleepy clouds wandered, during deep green, golden hours.
Hues of fall leaves were fawning, when flying on crisp air, like family;
Visiting the days of fuming flora, of cool chrysanthemums, so pretty!
The Greens lived in a house of calendars, as mystic prisms flash color;
The life sundered into separate hues, like in gardens of blissful wonder.
Saffron sun shone on their street, as they smiled at people they'd meet;
When silver willows whispered surrender, to warm breezes, of no retreat.
Neighbors were a part of noon memoirs. Shadows were national heroes,
In ruddy times of heat and desperation! In the heyday of burgundy rose.
'Lady Leigh' irises sizzled in red, with the fruity beauty of 'pineapple lily,'
While insects snacked on 'goldfish' plants, beneath pink clouds, so frilly!
'Starfish' flowers had big highs and lows, in strawberry days of summer;
While 'Peruvian apple' cacti bloomed, on a single, dark night of slumber.
The Green children conveyed nostalgia for joyful childhood, into old age;
As colorful fall remembers summer just left, so flower strewn and sage!
Zoe grew up to be a model, while Leah became a famous ballet dancer.
Bill became a happier TV weatherman, for after rain, sun is the answer!
Edward later ran in marathons, and Ruth founded a charity organization.
James worked hard for conservation, as Pete, a clown, toured the nation.
Like the smiles that charm each seven day week, as a teal world waltzes;
Or like satiny peace of pearl moon charm, when the purple world pauses!
'Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.'
On the Twenty Fifth, December Night,
Black Skies Sparkle with bright light!
Church Bells ring,Ding!Dong!Ding!
Chores of angels ,start to sing!
Merry Christmas!Everyone!
Happy Birthday,Jesus Son.
We rejoice in prayer and joy,
as We thank this New Born Boy,
He is Born for You and Me,
from Our darkness ,sets us free.
Christmas time,a time for Friends,
Tender Hugs and shaking Hands.
Red Holllies in Window Sills,
Deers and sleighs,Over the Hills.
Cheery music in the streets,
Christmas time,a time for peace,
Neighbours sharing Merry greets,
robin's nest, safely in trees..
Its a time we give Our best,
thinking more about the rest,
Christmas Cards,a Christmas Gift,
Its Our time,to give and give!!
Christmas Spirit,Home sweet Home,
A star twinkling ,on each Dome.
Lots of toys, For Homeless Kids,
Stories told and ancient myths.
Brindisi ! a toast! Saluting with a kiss,
Warm mulled wine,We never miss..
French Beres,Red coats to dress,
in their tails,Men, look their best.
Decorating Christmas trees,
altogether,Families!
Phone calls ,far across the miles,
Happy Cries and lovely smiles.
Stocking with little surprise,
Before New Dawn,wake and rise.
Five course lunch, For Everyone,
Turkey roasted,just well done.
Aunties,Cousins ,join together,
On this Christmas ,Winter Weather.
At four tea,a Christmas Bun!
Crowd in Chit Chat,having Fun.
Grandma ,bakes ,a Christmas Cake
Snowballs,Mince Pies and Fig Dates.
I prepare ten christmas logs,
Cherries,Nuts,Whisky and Chocs,
Yummie Candies,so delicious,
Forget all which is nutritiuos..
Little Crib in every House,
Grandpa dress as Santa Clause,
Presents,granting many wishes,
Christmas Day, so very precious.
Missletoe and Gleaming eyes,
Christmas Carols,Christma Rhymes.
Cosy Eve,Burning Flames of Fire place,
Spicy wood and Indoor games.
Long Processions in the Streets,
all the Door Knobs Hold Gold Wreaths.
Candle lights in Children's hands,
Miss Christmas and Snow men Dance!
All the Nations holding Hands,
War Is Over,Still a Chance!
Many Blessings On Our Lands,
Merry Christmas Super Friends..
Merry Christmas Everyone,
Welcome Home,Enjoy the Fun! :)
(Inspired by Caroline Devonshire)
(Welcome in my picture of Christmas Landia)
Charma