Long Hale and hearty Poems
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Halloween!
Dense dark is Halloween night.
when Moon is absolute absent.
On Full Moon, it shows bright.
‘Half Moon’ glows descent.
Stars sparkle, show blue light.
Moon, if turns ‘Crescent’
displays ghostly sight.
Haunted house.
Horrifying mouse.
Flying vampire, scary ghost,
wicked witch, cunning most,
kindling candle,
breaking handle
of rusted latch
just to catch
the fleeing rat
that safely sat
on fleshy pumpkin.
Ghost jumped in,
started to crave.
Bold and brave
baby went out,
robust and stout,
biting juicy candy.
Sipping blue brandy
parents danced, dreamed.
Barn owls swirled, screamed.
Kids, kith and kin danced with host.
Silent drums beat by invisible ghost.
Hello! Join Halloween party
Enjoy full: hale and hearty.
10/23/16
Halloween Contest by Eve Roper.
Third Place
SWAN SONG OF AN OLD-GUARD TRUE-BLUE TORY
I am one of the last of a dying breed,
I’m an antique true-blue Tory.
I grew up on Super-Mac
And ‘the Land of Hope and Glory.’
In Rab Butler I once found
A man both mild and sane.
Ted Heath I took with a pinch of salt.
Maggie Thatcher caused me pain.
Her politics were tough and right,
But I found her style too brash.
She was less concerned with social need
Than she was with sordid cash.
John Major held his horses.
He was middle-of-the-road.
Perhaps he was a shade too nice
To fit the worldly mode.
When Cameron came, the rot set in.
I mean that referendum.
Why dabble with these dubious things?
There's no reason to defend ‘em.
Theresa May did what she could
To sort out the Brexit shambles
But failed at last to free the land
From the consequence of gambles.
Boris Johnson ends the list
Of Tories hale and hearty,
And, to boot, as I do fear,
What’s left of the Old Tory Party.
To Liz or Richi falls the task
To clear up after Boris.
w=Were not the better place
if he had kept to Horace.
Is the land I loved so well
Now the land of grope and gory?
Woe is me if I must close
With heavy heart this story.
As long as he was hale and hearty,
has not uttered the name of God.
Until things went well as per his plan,
has not offered prayers to Him.
Taking pride in his youthful vigour,
and very handsome Cupid figure,
has not felt His holy presence.
Failing to see Him in every heart,
and running after physical pleasures,
he whiled away his precious time.
Now, having lost his wealth and health,
the Enlightenment has dawned upon him!
Feeling the burden of his life,
for solace, in times of grief and loss,
having come to know that
God is his path and destination,
his spiritual journey towards the Almighty
he has only just begun!!
CUCUMBERS OR NUMBERS
Here we are together, all as mates
Clustered in several separate plates
Vinegar soaked, as all pickles are
Yet each in our own way, a star
Adding that extra taste to cheese
As our main intention is to please
While we are still hale and hearty
The gherkin says, let’s have a party
Our French friend won’t understand
He’s a cornichon in that foreign land
But we like each other for good or ill
Even overshadowed by that tall dill
Lying here, no chance for any fun run
Especially with that big pickled onion
But we feel sorry for that brown lump
Just sweet pickle, and has got the hump
Yet believed to be a computer nerd
And quite up to date as we’ve heard
But at this party we’ve heard enough
So let us dump all the techie stuff
Even if it brings tears to our eyes
Python pickle will quickly de-serialise
I slumbered, half-dead, lost in oblivion's night
Unaware of my surroundings, a fleeting, fragile light
Sleep, a battleground where life and death entwine
A struggle to survive, a war to reclaim the divine
But when I wake, the night's dark battle's won
I've emerged victorious, the morning's golden sun
And when I sleep, unbroken by the day's fierce strife
I've conquered the day's battle, a warrior's hard-won life
I rise, hale and hearty, with morning's vibrant dew
And praise my Maker, whose mercy saw me through
I fought the night's dark battle, and prevailed to see
The dawn's triumphant glory, a new day's destiny
Oh Lord, my God, guide me through the day's ordeal
For many rise with morning, but some will not reveal
The battle of life's crushing weight, its merciless design
Many will fall, but I, oh Lord, will rise, with heart and mind.
It was when I reached my fortieth birthday.
Not so young, but, youthfulness ruled the day.
I was known as an educationist, around,
My intelligence and wisdom, they felt, was sound.
Not many were invited to my birthday party,
My friends said I looked hale-and-hearty.
Cut the cake and with all simple meals shared,
I felt, as though by all, I was loved and cared.
It's when I stood to thank each one that evening,
Something tucked my tongue for no evident reasoning.
I stood silent, shocked, perplexed and lost,
None could understand what had happened to the host.
I tried to talk. I could not. Tried again; failed!
Not knowing my state of mind my friends hailed.
When, after hard trials, like dew drops, my tears spilt,
All, around, understood. Lo! There’s some tilt…
They took hold of me and asked me what happened,
I could not articulate; all seemed so saddened.
Doctor - some said; That's what they soon did,
None could remove from my tongue that lid.
I, an orator, remained speechless. Is it God's work?
Or demons do such tricks that God gets the jerk?
I resigned to the state of affairs and remained silent,
Everyone around understood this and became quiet.
I felt my trouble is nothing before John Milton,
I could see; he could not; My path is, hence, silken.
Pain in me, yet, grew, like fire in a dry forest,
Though I seemed silent, within I had great tempest.
Having found no remedy in treatments mountainous,
I turned to God, who is bundle of boundlessness.
I surrendered to him and said - Give me speech -
In return, I will, your glories ever preach.
In return? O fool! What would you give God?
Inner mind said. What could to God you award?
It's, hence, I lay before him, as though dead,
As mute as a muted lute, I went ahead.
In one of praise and worship during night adoration,
I could feel, within my tongue, certain restoration.
Is it reality or illusion? I did never know,
Dumb will speak, scriptures said, if believed so.
I believed; trusted; relied on his immense power,
Many prayed during that very long operation hour.
I talked. They could understand me as before,
Does anyone know, yet, the truth within the core...???
God and God alone is the truth I firmly say,
Without him, for salvation, there is no other way...!
24 October 2022
ER: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
If I were granted wishes three,
the first would be most certainly:
All hearts with charity would fill
while not one soul would lose free will.
The second would be just for me
if I were granted wishes three:
Creative thoughts would ever flow;
my full potential I would know.
I’d wish, for me and mine, good health. .
more vital than material wealth.
If I were granted wishes three:
A hale and hearty family!
My dear ones strong, my muse inspired,
a world where pure love is desired!
What better wishes could there be
if I were granted wishes three?
For Amy Green's contest: If I Could Have Three Wishes
Bo-Peep Cannot Sleep
Poor Little Bo-Peep can't drift off to sleep
Being far too excited to even count sheep
Can't wait can she, to wake up and see
The prezzies that Santa's left under the tree.
There's only a few more nights left to go
Till Santa arrives with a loud 'Ho! Ho! Ho!
Bo so hopes it snows, and should that be so
Her fleece get the chance to gambol in snow.
She closed her eyes as tightly as she could
As any small sleepy shepherdess should
Sheep still awake thought they’d have a party
So pranced o’er the meadow hale and hearty.
Then cross with her flock for disturbing her sleep
She snapped "that's no way to be treating Bo-Peep"
Those naughty sheep gave her a sorrowful bleat
She forgave them right there and sang lullabaa's sweet.
2nd December 2020
In my old age
I thought I’d have such yarns to tell,
of derring-do when I was hale and hearty.
Looking back, I wonder now just what befell
me in those years
and did I miss the party?
Distant echoes further fade
as all the days slip by.
An aproned lady combs my hair
and tells me I should try
once more to do the jigsaw,
but I really don’t know why.
They tell me I have new friends now,
sitting in a circle, wiggling toes,
or neatly slipper-clad, arranged in rows,
we sing “We”ll meet again”
at bedtime with our cocoa,
smoothing out the pain.
But well we know, when it’s time to go,
it’s our “au revoir” refrain.
Over sixty years of friendship,
But sadly all things end
As I look at this remnant of
My tried and trusted friend.
He’s got an unshaven chin
Watery rheumy blank eyes
And when I shake his hand
Shows no sign I’m recognised.
I can see he doesn’t remember,
Doesn’t react to my name,
When I talk of our past
His non reaction is the same
He’s like an observer
Mindlessly looking on,
Outside he’s alive
Inside he’s gone.
They did try to warn me
But at least I had to try,
Try to reach my old friend,
At the very least say goodbye.
I sat with him for a while
Both engaged in non conversation
Until at last I could accept
The reality of the situation.
I muttered a last goodbye
To my oldest old friend
Knowing that our friendship
Had finally come to its end.
So, I’ll go and sup a pint
The way we used to do
And I’ll sit silently there
And think of me and you.
Not the wreck I’ve just seen,
Physically and mentally impaired
But the hale and hearty mate,
And the experiences we shared.
In time I’ll recover
Maybe once or twice cry
But mostl i’ll enjoy the memory
Of our shared times gone by
I shan’t go to his funeral
If he beats me to the end
That box will just hold the shell
Of my best and oldest friend.