Long Clambered Poems
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BYLINY: a nostalgia form'that which happened '
ADOLESCENT SCENES
during the Forties
I was just a lad
growing up
was not so bad
Summer evenings
lengthened long
clambered trees
with birds in full song
across nearby fields
&over the brook
studying in nature's
real-timebook
scaled branches
for my egg collection
wild flowers
then pressed to perfection
fishing for stickleback
with jamjar and net
oftimes slipping
&getting wet
boys' club
in the old school hall
indoor hockey i
with a ragged ball
gathering conkers
on Chestnut Crescent
for annual contests adolescent
blue-paper fireworks
fifth November,
baked spuds
in glowing ember
around the streets
carol singing
boxes rattling lanterns swinging
indelible magic memoir
remembered scenes from afar
Year first Posted 2007
We'd get the punt from St Mary's church,
We clambered aboard, with enough gear to make the punt lurch.
There was my Dad my Uncle, me and a family friend,
You could feel the day was going to be hot,
But off we went to discover our fishy lot.
We each had a very expensive rod, but we was one reel short that someone had forgotten,
But Dad didn't mind he was just as content to lay back and rest, while we all put our angling skills to the test.
We tried for at least 5 or 6 hours but we had nothing not even a bite,
Well except for my Dad who unknowing to us had tied a line to his big toe, and would you believe he had a sharp tug, and he pulled on board a shimmering Perch,
All we could really do was to fall about laughing and to cause the punt to make one final lurch.
Walking down a beach in Jamaica
Sipping on some local rum
It was that moment when I fell and my head
Became imbedded between the cheeks of your bum
I knew nothing would come between us
The look on you face told me I was a winner
I clambered to my feet feeling like a knight
That is when I asked you out to dinner
Although you smacked me loosening my teeth
And been call an over sexed pervert
The sincerely look on my face captured you
And I knew your misconception would revert
My lips need not speak any longer for the words
From my heart were said through my eyes
You would be my summer love
My life long, love giving prize
I had to turn this unfortunate situation quickly
To do it I would need to use my charm
For the pain was not only hurting in my heart
But from the twist your boyfriend placed in my arm
I bumped into you in the eve after I returned from the hospital
I remember I had my arm in a cast
You came to me and apologised with a kiss
It was then I knew our love would last
We lay on the beach watching the sun set
Then we made love on Poseidon’s sea shore
I knew it wouldn’t be just a night of steamy sex
It would be that and a lot more
*"STEAMY SUMMER LOVE" (4 MEN ONLY)* There we go My Sweet
A church clock struck midnight, from far far away,
Overhead, the pale moon was veiled, by dark clouds of grey.
Two young boys were watching, from their own makeshift den,
Aiming to prove to friends they weren't mice, but men.
As gravestones scraped noisily, upon sharp gravel paths,
The small boys gulped loudly, and subdued nervous laughs.
But when a corpse clambered out, of a wide open grave,
The two boys took fright, not feeling so brave.
With their eyes now wide open, and holding their breath,
They clung to each other, and were worried to death.
As the corpse turned around, and staggered their way,
They closed both of their eyes, and started to pray.
Soon as a ghoul crawled out, from behind the headstone,
They felt a little queasy, and started to groan.
Suddenly, two cold hands touched them, pinching their ears
They both screamed out loudly, then burst into tears.
But it was just their eldest brother a prankster called Rick,
Who,for a bit of devilment, played an old schoolboy trick.
They had been watching tv., camped on the hearth rug.
By the cosy fireside, in their own little snug.
That night in their beds, what tapped the window pane,
Was it the leaking gutter, now filling with rain.
Or whose are those shadows, that stealthily creep.
So underneath the bedsheets, they tried their hardest to sleep
8/ 14/ 2017. POET'S SHADOW GREG BARDON.
She stood there and slooshed on the grass at her feet
She’d have to move forward before she dared eat
She walked a few paces to discover that
Some other cow had left a foul splat
Wherever she looked there was piddle or poo
And that was the moment she knew what to do
She looked at the grass which was drying and brown
She might well have cringed but a cow cannot frown
She went to the river to drink some clean water
Across it, the farmer, his wife and his daughter
Live in a house with a lush green lawn
The greenest she’d seen since the day she was born
But why should she settle for this frazzled field
When over the river, a bounteous yield
Well she had to go where she had to go
And then in the water was hit by the flow
She struggled against it, her progress was slow
But she battled on to where green grass does grow
Why should the farmer keep it to himself
When cows were the subject of all of his wealth
The river was raging, the current was strong
She aimed for the lawn so she didn't go wrong
And finally clambered the opposite side
Astounded she’d managed a river so wide
She pushed herself out and up onto the bank
And looked back across to where the grass stank
She’ll savour this green grass for all it is worth
She took her first mouthful...
Yuk...
Astroturf!
Through the days of blistering toil.
A murmur of spirit after a blissful
trial.These were the emotions on this
endless day.Minutes later in single
file, were prints from hoofs in the
muddy soil.While easing toward
drudgery and withdrawal.The amazing
thoroughbreds entered their stall.
Jockeys clambered onto their colts.
As they were trained superbly, for
the oncoming derby.While over the
loudspeaker the narrator spoke.
Calling out numbers for only who was
there.Consider a victory and the
triple crown.Ready to gain-gain an
inch of ground.Thoroughbred racing
was the name of the game.Where
hesitating was nothing, and no
one to blame.Where multitudes of
spectators impatiently waited, for the
master racers to open the gate.A
photograph finish ended the race.
Beaten by a length-a length out of
pace.Was the thoroughbred racer
in second place..
The Derby Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1982,1987..ALL rights reserved..
Wombles In Space
(Split Into two parts because I suddenly got all Limericky )
Part One
The Wombles are not worldly wise
They look to the ground not the skies
They got on a train, which is hard to explain
Cos the train they got on was a plane
Eventually back on the ground
Uncle Bulgaria frowned
How could it be, that all he could see
Was a sign saying Cape Kennedy
The small telescope in his pocket
He took out and saw a space rocket
He said to his wombling clan,
I’ve spotted a big old tin can
It’s stood there as though we’re expected
Just waiting there to be collected
And while it’s a hell of a can
Am I not a wombling man?
Soon they had clambered aboard
A rumbling sound left them all floored
Orinoco was starting to drift off
And somehow he’d started a lift off
Bulgaria sported a frown
Lord knows how we’re gonna get down
But since were all stuck in this can
I’ve got an exiting new plan
They found a box full of space suits
and one full of magnetic boots
The mission: to gather space trash
To trade up or sell it for cash
Part Two
Then Houston said, we've got a gremlin
The crew ain’t the crew we’re rememberin
A furry ensemble
Each looks like a Womble
Perhaps snuck aboard by the Kremlin
Uncle Bulgaria’s explaining
Orinoco, asleep, ain’t complaining
There’s rubbish to get
They’ve not been beat yet
The cargo bay soon would be straining
The craft dragged a net round the Earth
Catching up junk for it’s worth
It then tried to swallow
Some bits of Apollo
The net didn’t have enough girth
Tobermory’s big invention
For over-sized space junk retention?
A sticky harpoon
A scrapyard on the moon
So that’s taken care of his pension
His plan for retirement luxurious
Was blocked cos the Clangers were furious!
So what could he do
Except grab some glue
A womble space walk is quite curious
He glued all the rubbish together
Which seemed really simple but clever
He made a new planet
Of metal, not granite
Which really was quite an endeavour
On Earth there was mass womble mania
Those wombles, it seems, had got brainier
The latest new game
Was to think up a name
For the planet we now call Womblania
The fancy carnival carousel caught my eye
Twelve wooden horses went prancing on by
I clambered on one, and enjoyed a horse ride
But when I had to dismount, oh how I cried!
When Mama and Papa tucked me into bed
Carousel horses galloped inside my head
I dreamed of riding through a fluffy cloud
My horse led the way; I felt ever so proud!
Every carousel horse has now been set free
With reins held tight, we cantered across the sea
When I woke from my dream I was on dry land
I won’t tell my folks .. grown-ups don’t understand!
Carousel Picture Prompt Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
04/06/20
ADOLESCENT SCENES
during the Forties
I was just a lad
growing up
was not so bad
Summer evenings
lengthened long
clambered trees
with birds in full song
across nearby fields
&over the brook
studying in nature's
real-timebook
scaled branches
for my egg collection
wild flowers
then pressed to perfection
fishing for stickleback
with jamjar and net
oftimes slipping
&getting wet
boys' club
in the old school hall
indoor hockey i
with a ragged ball
gathering conkers
on Chestnut Crescent
for annual contests adolescent
blue-paper fireworks
fifth November,
baked spuds
in glowing ember
around the streets
carol singing
boxes rattling lanterns swinging
indelible magic memoir
remembered scenes from afar
Year first Posted 2007
He tipped his hat and he said to her:
“Ma’am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Can you kindly tell me why those whores are out,
has no one taught those girls a lick of sense?”
She chuckled softly, and then said to him:
“I see you haven’t been to L.A. for a while.
They’re not prostitutes, just dumb teenager girls,
aping the latest in Hollywood ‘style.’
“I don’t know what they see in that stuff,
you’d never catch me wearing that dreck.
Like great-gramma Norma once said to my mom,
‘A woman needs to have her self-respect.'
“But you yourself are dressed unusually,
are you in the middle of some sort of L.A.R.P.?
If your trying to look like an old-time cowboy,
I must say you’ve really nailed the part!”
Linton smiled at the friendly woman and said:
“I’m not exactly sure what you mean—”
Then came a flash of blue and of red,
and an auto made a metallic scream.
Two men emerged from a dark blue car,
dressed up somewhat like the city police.
one shouted,”You on the horse with the two guns,
you throw up your hands and you freeze!”
Linton saw them pointing what looked like pistols,
though they strangely had no cylinders,
panic set it, and he kicked hard on his horse,
the mare racing at the touch of the spurs.
The men behind then did not start to shoot,
but they brought their automobile to life,
he heard it’s engine, but the road ended soon,
his horse cleared it’s metal rail in flight.
The police clambered out, and followed on foot,
but they’d no chance to catch up with him now,
he raced for the light, squinting as he neared,
passing through as fast as his horse would allow.
He opened his eyes, and saw nothing but scrub,
his heart still a-pounding frantically,
glancing over his shoulder all Linton saw…
...was a dry ravine running down to the sea.
CONCLUDES IN PART III.