Long Bonhomie Poems
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HOUR OF POWER
If I remember rightly, someone once said
Enough of all this farce, democracy is dead
So don’t let any of it mess with your head
In some democracies, a President is elected
But in others, it is a party that gets selected
And never should free choice be neglected
But big business will win the day, of course
Party donations from a questionable source
Private functions, a meal ticket to endorse
National elections offer gripping television
No joy, if the count is denied any revision
Is it really the people making the decision
It’s rights and laws and a struggling economy
Yet it all comes down to maths and Ptolemy
But unchanged since the death of bonhomie
Yet I do believe in Switzerland each quarter
For residents up mountains or by the water
It is a form of democracy that doesn’t falter
Whether really as superficial as favouritism
But much less so, if it is state communism
Yet it is cash in the pocket with capitalism
A constitutional monarchy does seem Ok
But nothing like those in a Shakespeare play
And Richard the Third finally lost it, I’d say
So, there will always be this societal stuff
And when politics feels more than enough
Just surviving each day can get very tough
A crepuscular theatrical serene speech prompt,
slip spill in an echoey pattern down my soft skinned ear,
as I was captivated by the gloss quilt luminance of,
glow worm stars, silver moon tarpaulin, indigo horizon,
elysian sidereal dust that so magnetic trance,
I dwell on flawless antique navy blue tapestry,
of enthralling nocturnal mirth streamed murmur,
timelessness a slow tick second hand mesmerizer,
symbiotic solitude on moulded granite bench,
whets intense yearning as my elevated odyssey,
where gilded gust a universal sage’s hint from,
invisible zone whose through the age enchantment,
forevermore a velvet hush, a lush chrysalis,
metamorphosis at a peek, diurnal cyclic mystery,
forevermore I am an affluent lodger to telluric haven
riddle of the night
unveils its lucid passage,
beyond mortal span
Heaven within an effervescent spiral steam moiety,
juxtaposed across emblazoned morning patch
immortal,
of swooning sun whose rays bounce off garnet veins,
me, spectator, bard, curator of reflection for posterity,
this tantalised dawdler in a dewdrop leaf coppice,
majestic mountain summit under dawn spell,
arousing passionate interwoven interface of cordial,
bonhomie link to merriment, auroral pathos,
perpetual and beyond expansive firmament,
romantic fingertip alignment in surreal fog tango,
where pounding heart oath infinite in salient scope,
blue lagoon bounty, argent cascade, rainbow chaser,
dizzy upper echelon beauteous my twinkled torrent of delirium,
forevermore, longer longing, forever as this wonder world dervish,
waltzing through eternal mists, with my zest for life,
as gold encrusted passport to a rapturous paradise
daylight points the way
to lasting beauty on earth
cherish the vista
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they paint sound and city pastel,
never at a loss for inspiration,
weather neither bar nor barrier,
in the face of whirlwind snowfall,
freezing ice, torrential downpour,
within themselves, he, she, they plod on,
hardship is adopted, never cast aside,
while others brazenly squirm,
wallow in uproarious denial,
wilt before the slightest storm,
taking flight in arid comfort zone,
shelter is their first convenient port,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
alert does not begin an ample portrait,
of this wilful dwindling genus,
genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
they capture worlds sidereal,
under velvet moon imagining bespoke,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
how magical their canny weave lexicon,
for us timid souls to relish evermore,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
vicarious the kismet, excitement from afar,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Unmet expectations damage your demanding mind,
your senses become the fast spreading wild fire.
Uncontrolled, it boils the blood of your intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns my gentle demeanor.
Its ferocity blazes the bonhomie of bonding chords,
my life turns into an urn filled with your ill feeling.
Your flashing eyes can’t conceal you seethe inside,
generate an inferno of malice for me in your heart .
The twisted tongue spills out your sentiments so sadistic,
smeared with the vicious venom of your malicious mind.
The scorched petals of my floral essence are dislodged
to feel the dreams turn into debris, suffering in silent pain.
I pray to God to give me the strength of tolerant psyche
and the acuity of empathetic acumen to sense that
“the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.”
So, the spontaneous spurt of imbibed divine forgiveness
emanates from the fountain of my benign soul,
and I perceive my genial mind evade the pangs of agony.
FILLE JOLIE
I see the tall apartments as we pass
We all shudder, slowing to a halt
The bus conductor turns and stares
As he stops to collect more fares
This stop-start ride is not his fault
The Place d’Etoile packed with cars
I am off to start a new school term
And almost ready to face the world
It’s 1960 and the times are changing
Career choices soon need arranging
As a young woman, not just a girl
And my independence I do affirm
I will stay to work in this exciting city
Paris also can offer varied recreation
My parents still living up in Normandy
Little villages always full of bonhomie
But my future is more than anticipation
And Gilles said he thought me pretty
The bus has almost reached Pont Neuf
Now yet another day of boring lessons
See the grown up people sitting here
Not everyone has varied lives, I fear
I just hope I’ll make good impressions
Whether as an aristocrat or mere serf
Unmet expectations damage the dormant psyche,
futile promises smother the rays of fading hope,
unkind words tear the lattice of my mangled mind.
My life is wrecked by your grotesque conduct.
Your senses become the fast spreading wild fire,
uncontrolled, it boils the blood of your intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns my gentle demeanor.
Its ferocity blazes the bonhomie of bonding chords.
Your flashing eyes reveal you seethe hideously inside,
generate a malice inferno of a monster in your heart .
The twisted tongue spills out your sentiments so sadistic,
smeared with the vicious venom of your gruesome mind.
The scruple of sane sagacity turns into shredding cinder,
erupting out of your fuming volcanic fervent fury,
flows in the spreading smoke of stifling spite,
consuming the remains of reason you lose frenzied.
The scorched petals of my floral essence are dislodged
by the fierce dust storm of passionate perturbation.
The torn flower vainly tries to regain the lost grace,
sees the dreams turn into debris, suffering a silent pain.
With the arcane acumen of a trickster devil,
as sordid silhouette of menace you crawl stealthily
into the quintessence of my life to suck the ambrosia
of my soul, the casualty of your monstrous cruelty.
Years have past but still can’t quell… won’t snub Orwell’s “the Moon under Water” pub as did cast a vast spell which did last….but pray tell what the hell should we call the restaurant of our dreams….which memes bestows seems to have all the right themes…glows how about “the Sunbeams below Sea”
Fables about higgledy piggledy chairs & tables
Cradles candles & scandals under their gables
Culinary cables run free no bland brand labels
Feast on every bit of the beast gourmet stables
Restaurant procured and manicured by a savant
Chef the ref hits the right clef is the commandant
An epicure tincture the cure for any bon vivant
An apothecary of wonders dispensed you adore
A third space with grace for either rich or poor
Service smooth as lace sings like a troubadour
Sweet as the smell after a downpour of petrichor
To attract and have a pact with every locavore
Delightful detour will always get highest score
Every encore makes sure come back for more
Beacon of light for us with appetite of a labrador
Another secret lover met palate whet paramour
The restaurateur not only a brassy raconteur
Flavour to savour taste bud flood provocateur
With bravura not bravado true entrepreneur
Not only an aficionado a classy connoisseur
Food looking pretty thanks to chef de partie
Maitre d’ quick with a ditty and slick repartee
Never sh*tty always a pity if they’re not witty
Cheer for every peer & the atmosphere is free
Sanctuary of treats from nearby streets so gritty
Harmonious not parsimonious not overly twee
Sybaritic symphony its rhapsody down to a tee
Glee of a miner finding gold & going on a spree
Umami tsunami a melody for my old china & me
Marvel at the majesty of a well woven tapestry
Pedigree and fancy free filigree the place to be
Treacle toned well honed academy of alchemy
Push the glutton button for a gourmands epiphany
Charms calms any qualms are like balms of apricity
Nowt finer for any city diner than elan & bonhomie
That it seems would be a restaurant of our dreams
Teems with reams of gleams “Sunbeams below sea”
I am a stranger in an alien land,
Always searching for eternal youth,
Controlled by an aristocracy with
Little time for honesty and truth.
The food banks are booming
Hardly a state of joy and glory
As the world prepares to celebrate
That age old Nativity Story.
A season of conspicuous Consumption,
A time of reflection and celebration
Or a time of struggles to survive for
A growing proportion of our nation.
Being black, unemployed or sick
Nowadays the modern day sin
As the homeless sleep rough and
Scavenge from the waste food bin.
The privileged will celebrate
The Holy Virgin Birth
And turn a blind eye to
The fast warming earth
The sick will die untreated in
The growing A and E queue
Only the thickness of a payslip
Stops that being me or you.
All over this rich nation
The comfortable will give thanks
And turn a seasonal blind eye
To queues at the food banks.
The Sovereign from the palace
Will give the annual address
Closely watched and monitored
By the billionaire owned free press.
The Sally Army Christmas, kitchen
Will feed some of the masses
And so another year of repression,
With false bonhomie, slowly passes.
I become more and more an alien
In this my own native born land
My world has changed completely
To one I can no longer understand.
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they face whirlwind snowfall, freezing ice,
while others brazenly squirm,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
of this genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
velvet moon worlds sidereal captured,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Auf Wiedersehn
Well here at last it's party time,in shorts and dirndl dress.
Excitedly we travelled to the fest, a night of pleasure lay ahead.
We knew from past experience, don't quaff, just savour beers.
Imbibing Munichs drinks too fast, could mar the atmosphere.
Laughter brings bonhomie, as old and new friends speak.
Let's raise our beer steins in a toast.for now the show begins.
People waving, singing loudly, while rocking to the beat.
And all around the milling crowds, now dancing in the streets.
Revelry with devilry, as young boys whistle, girls in short skirts coyly blushing.
Talking heads surround our table, animated arms translating.
Yesterday a bunch of strangers, today as friends sharing together.
Listen to the sound of lilting voices, melodies from different tongues.
Inviting us each night to join them, mixing beers and singing songs.
Kindred spirits everyone, together dancing on the benches.
Enjoying each and every moment, with an ice cold stein of beer.
Trying tasty tendeloin of pork, delicious with sweet mustard crust.
Ham wrapped-figs and hazelnuts, with drinks of cool spring bottled water.
Each time the band strikes up-Ein Prosit, all and sundry stands to toast.
Rebel rousing, crowds carousing, dancers dirndl skirts are swirling.
Entertaining energetic, party poopers paralytic.
Stomping feet and clapping hands, embarrassing each waitress serving beer.
No one even seems to care,they carry on with gay abandon.
Overacting then distracting, when outside and breathe fresh air.
Time to eat potato pancakes,refreshed by water keeping sober.
Once more, let's party, here we go, prancing to an oom-pah band.
Musicians wearing lederhosen, people stomping feet and slapping thighs.
Oktober Fest in frenzied celebration, cavorting couples holding hands.
Running wildly round each table, urging all to take the floor.
Rejuvenated, rock and rollers, overcoming mixed emotions.
Once more before auf wiedersehn, let's dance the night away, and
We will party like there's no tomorrow.
11 / 5 / 2016.