Long Brainwave Poems
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[Written in mock Shakespearean(ish) for no
better reason than my own amusement]
Enlighten me, Lord, O where might it go
Perchance some robber doth steal it away
Late evening acquired and meant it to grow
Forsooth, it is gone, ’tis absent today
How might it blossom If nourished and fed
A deed laid aside for when I arose
The small hand was high, I went to my bed
Did the night watch it go, nobody knows
Surely the answer dwells inside my mind
Lord, lessen this fog to render bright lit
Should no doppelgänger be there to find
Neither my first nor my last moonlight flit
Notions not noted if lost to you will
Perhaps soon flow from another man’s quill
Germ of essence.
Human blob.
Shattered eggshell to the chicklet hatched.
Interlocking family of a kingdom.
Beget or begone? Antigone!
Pouch bearing mammal with no issue for her milk a plenty.
Enlightened species on
a zodiac sign.
Propagating genus wild and free yet stillborn.
Wet nurse in a pregnant phase but still a child at hearth or so it seems.
Meadow grazing Macropod fazes antipodean observer all the while.
New arrival signage whose laboured footprint chills on every impact.
Courier from catacombs, fateful torch aloft, flambeau at a glance where toddlers cheer, sonnet form heraldry ablaze with kindling verse.
Human destination thread that spins a hopeful tale.
Cave of legends halting site persevered by household zeal.
Stalagmite, stalactite, granite grey day gulag’s natal spasm.
Troglodyte who once did tramp upon a uterine tunnel trading in survival for relief.
Embryonic creeper stuck on dry wall canvas.
Border crossing cradle cordons off a check point, never mind the cost or inconvenience.
Acorn random toss, mighty oak seed trap between a leaf and fallen log.
Flower pollen stigma,
never seen as shameful to the fertile mind.
Tree of life penumbra casts a limelight shade.
Concepts pulse the mind like nascent parabolic kites that stymie outcome.
Genesis of brainwave.....
nurtured by insightful minds and marble carver tomes.
Olympic status offspring, budding Einstein player on the ball.
Thought, the inner urchin magnet probing deep inside magenta labyrinths.
Wheel of fortune‘s mumsy shadow
ova.
Masterful philosophy storing foetal logic on some growth cell’s wellspring fountain.
Infant augur embers fan their winter flame regardless.
Birthright , birthstone,
birth pang, the reproductive organs of infinity whose algebraic series has no final chapter scheduled.
'Twas the night before Christmas and outside blew a gale
Ol' Santa had a brainwave and on his sleigh rigged a sail
He was preparing for what lay ahead, an arduous task
Then waved goodbye to Mrs Claus and put on a face mask.
First he delivered to the all the cities then town after town
But cross winds were now blowing that slowed the sleigh down
He then put down on the highway to dismantle the sail
And the flapping of the sail fabric tickled Rudolphs tail.
Rudolph thought it was Santa and started moving away
But Santa was on the roadside minus his sleigh
The air turned quite blue, ( I wont repeat what he said )
Santa's face was the colour, like his suit a bright red.
He took out his cell phone and dialed nine one one
And told the bemused operator what had gone on
"My head reindeer Rudolph has made off with my sleigh
That's loaded with kids presents for Christmas day".
An all points bulletin was sent out for the runaway sleigh
Santa prayed that the traffic cops would save the day
Cops in choppers were scrambled and to save at any cost
The magic of christmas, that looked like 'twould be lost.
By now Rudolph was getting tired and stopped for a rest
Then the cops in choppers landed, to make an arrest
Rudolph pleaded his innocence and said he didn't know
Then looked behind him and said " where the hell did he go?".
It was all a misunderstanding and everything turned out okay
Sleigh and Santa were reunited and went off on their way
He cracked his whip then from a bottle took a large sup
Told Rudolph to get a move on as the kids would soon be up.
He delivered all the presents and now house lights were coming on
Santa was full of praise for Rudolph, for the hard work that he'd done
He made for home going by the airfield with five crates of elf beer
As a thank you to the chopper cops and to bring them some cheer.
Meanwhile at home Mrs Claus was preparing the turkey
She knew that when Santa got home he'd be tired and hungry
Santa phoned her on his cell phone , she answered "yes dear"
He said "Merry Christmas Mrs Claus and a happy new year".
Written on 3rd December 2020.
Christmas Poems Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France.
City hub on wings
apogee of ultra bright
fire within urban comet
tangerine signpost
to future halcyon spot
amidst buoyant step onrush
Bouncy castle perk
spurs avid market stall pitch
bargain in a jiffy bag
loophole hatched off-curb
brainwave surge from genie flash
to everyone’s benefit
Silver winter tinged
trees and wet overcast skies
never dampen township verve
that heartland zeitgeist
typical of boom and bloom
day or night march on dweller
Sweep off feet vision
endemic to rapid shifts
where marvel woos miracle
in heady cocktail
at the cutting-edge hubbub
point of entry upbeat frame
A Couple Of Nags
A couple of fellows who weren't very bright
Got terribly drunk in the pub one night
It gave them a bit of a shock of course
When in a drunk bet... They each won a horse
With just enough money for chips and some haddock
They couldn't afford the price of a paddock
Bob said we'll rent a small field for a start
But how would we then tell our horses apart?
Ted slurred his words and burped when he said
Couldn't we paint a white stripe on one's head
Bob said we're too skint to buy us some fags
So we can't afford paint for marking our nags
We could tie a pink bow onto one of their tails
Scratch names on their flanks with a couple of nails
Or if you're not liking the sound of all that
Could we make one of them wear a straw hat?
Bob simply belched before he then said
We need to do something much cheaper instead
We can't afford ribbon or a silly straw hat
Did you think me too drunk to have thought about that?
Well we need to do something before we get old
Or before we end up stone dead from the cold
But then Bob jumped up and he started to gloat
I've sussed it he boasted, just give one your coat
Not likely said Ted, the thought makes me chilly
So frankly, he burped, you're idea is silly
Next you'll suggest that we smear one with jelly
Or maybe we ought to make one wear a welly
The two of them sat there, each scratching his head
Then Bob had a brainwave and here's what he said
We really must get this decided tonight
So you have the black horse, and I'll have the white.
Nights of flying dream world,
who might chase a raucous laugh,
or seek indeed mirthful excitement,
the sort that has embroidered twists,
as is generally perceived by intention,
but epic hurdles formed in still frame,
city snores past midnight bell clang,
dare one ever risk a robust venture,
should I have said pursuit instead,
sleep is diversion in that steel crib,
that modern crib pillow we fostered,
an idiom that has it’s silken source,
on foot of rainbow studded home run,
as denizens of driven blissful sprint,
with that palette city life concocts,
waiting to arise from brainwave surge,
but toilers so content at last wonder,
can still find that extra zestful yen,
nocturnal misnamed down tool free time,
energizing hour filler may arouse,
around the ink drape walkways,
quite surrogate and surreptitious,
character one may mold from time,
spent as a regal rhombic chaser,
boundary scuppered plot by strolling fleet,
as creatively imagining might edge,
vast supply has penchant without dent,
zeitgeist flower of a fluorescent flag,
warning mask so deft but visible,
canopy laid beauteous black fringe,
alliance in shade infused etch front,
squeaky noising trickle eardrum muffin,
hear full dose of ripple muttering,
clued on obscurantist thin,
taut code evasive decipher ask,
float of urban mirror pool by pattern,
reflection, mirage, cocoon,
after midnight curtain draws,
to protracted claps evinced from,
squinting imp coterie on foot,
ricochet off Moroccan spice tint,
outside vivid haunt so frequented,
perchance, perforce, pertaining patois,
little seen scatter mice squeak,
analogy horizontal spurt funk,
if only these dart and dash clan,
midgets metaphorical so jubilant,
in sonic meddle near edge encounter,
it would be strictly beyond a dazzling cast,
from other daylight theater staunch queue,
when aiming for parallel experience,
performance nocturne wise deep art,
even rich fantasy has upper boundaries,
some grating gulley flake debris awash
Sow seeds before green garden ye savour,
Eat fruits of toil and sweat only thy own,
Quote no quotes often chewed, void of flavour,
No garden goes green, not by hard toil grown.
Be it an insight, brainwave as never,
One’s own muse is most inspiring maid known.
For long man, who’s forbidden fruits desired,
Goes on a wander lust such fruits to fish,
Why the Garden of Eden is admired,
Why things proscribed go for greater relish.
It is no sin to get by greats inspired
If you add your own, cook not someone’s dish.
World is the sole piece of creative art,
The rest is inspired, all of it or part.
_______________________
Sonnet |03.03.2009, revised Feb 2025|
Note: This sonnet does not follow the Pythagorean divide between the octave and sestet commonly found in sonnets, but an equal one followed by a couplet resolving the premise.
It's fun having fun with English,
Children are smart, sometimes we're not;
Enjoy this, call it what you wish,
One of the wittiest I got,
"How many kidneys do we have?"
The teacher asked the bright young boy,
"Four", replied he, (what a brainwave!)
The teacher laughed, he did enjoy,
The boy explained, "WE have got four,
Two of mine and two of yours, Sir",
Dumbstruck, the teacher laughed no more,
This boy, when grown, caused quite a stir!
He became a great humourist*,
The school, I'm sure, was his first stage,
He knew how to give a fun twist
To the witty English language.
08.14.2021
*Famous Brazilian humourist - Apparicio Torelly Aporelly (1895-1971), better known as the "Barao de Itararé"
(True story found in the Web)
I said what the hell ever
Do I need all the answers?
Do I have to respond
To all the bastards I don't even believe
That I associate with anymore
The cishet imbécils that wear the same skin as me
Do I carry the sin of faraway ancestors
When the dips in congress want me dead for wanting so much
More than you heads could ever dare dream
A perfect society for you and for me
And the people who don't look like they fell out of Netflix
The people who burn if the sun shines just a bit too strong
Of course I rebel against whiteness and curses
And the European curse that my skin has brought you
I believe in you, I want you to be as
Strong as what Hollywood sells children as basic and
The cream bastards who claim this as basic
And send those with dark skin and preferences that aren't PIV
And I beg to grip your fingers in the darkness and
Scream to the Harkness, testing if you think we're both
Far less than human for our brainwave development
For darkness, for gay, for shift tint, for trans
You hate us for this, I
Can't see your viewpoint, this
Pain that I carry is
A deep scar, it's scary
It's painful, it's murderous
It's soul-deep, are you wondering
How heavy is your soul
When God weighs all your works
Can you say that you're perfect
In God's eyes, when you maimed us?
I Deploy Happiness and Joy,
Exuberant like a boy.
It's a brand new toy,
One you can enjoy,
Anytime,
Anyplace,
Put a smile on that face.
Feel that saving grace,
Filling the Empty space,
When your reality starts to quake.
Put on the brakes,
Accept the mistakes.
A different choice to make,
When you're about to break.
When emotions create a wake,
A wave,
Becoming their slave.
A new path to take,
Don't misbehave.
Smile.
Be brave,
Ride the brainwave.
Surf the concave,
Emotional swell.
Shred that Tube,
Don't come unglued.
Slide through that bad attitude,
With a strong mental aptitude.
Exude gratitude,
Know you're valued.
Change the mood,
A choice you'll be glad you used.
Let Happiness and Joy guide you,
As you Ride through,
your Attitudes.