Long Neighbour Poems
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A brand new funeral home just opened,
Well that’s what my neighbour said,
He told me “We now have a brand new place,
Where we can take our dead.”
It’s in the building that used to be,
A pub for a hundred years,
It was the Old Royal Hotel down town,
Where we’d all raise our cheers,
But now its function’s completely changed,
Same clients, just a different need,
No longer does it enslave the souls,
Instead, it sets those souls to free,
The old pub is now a funeral home,
With closing time now at seven,
Final drinks are now spirits on the house,
Where closing time sends them to heaven.
I like to think myself basically honest
And lean more towards good than bad.
I can still count the times I have totally lost the plot.
Though I don't care to say how often swearing lets me down.
I know I have work to do there.
I count myself a good neighbour
And keep any friends I make.
I say good day to those who pass me in the street.
And I am nearly always keen to help out if asked.
My ears make good sounding boards
And People come to me for advice.
So my conscience I deem clear in all areas except one.
There is something really wicked about me you should know.
My sense of humour is hard to keep under control.
Even though it may seem wrong I am not prepared
To change it in any way.
It's delightfully delicious and often mischievous ways I embrace every day.
How could I even consider giving it the flick,
When it produces a smile such as that from you every time I let it have
It's wicked way.
And it would not be fair to those who shake their belly every time
I give it free reign to tell a joke.
I hope you will make an exception and give me dispensation
To continue being ever so slightly wicked in this way.
Bright aura
Sunlit windows;
Morning glory
~~~~~~~~~
Mystic magic
Dawnlight serenade;
Birdsong duet
~~~~~~~~~
Cheery neighbour greets
Random chit-chat;
Curious moments style
~~~~~~~~~
Busy morning mist
Rainbow arch;
Pot of gold waiting
~~~~~~~~~
Allure of grace
Fest greets my footsteps;
Dance of joy
~~~~~~~~~
Happy moods
Old feet strolling;
Sights and sounds
~~~~~~~~~
Tall bamboo pines
Reaching new highs;
Breezy swaying
~~~~~~~~~
Plumeria colours
Wild extravaganza;
Sparkling florals
~~~~~~~~~
By this horizon
Faces meet gently;
Happy thoughts linger
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
26 November 2015
Singapore
The man who never listened to the troubles of his wife
fell down the escalator at King's Cross station.
No-one met his eyes,
as he lay sickly on the concrete,
though someone did push his shiny briefcase towards him
as if hoping that was enough.
He phoned his wife but she was out
complaining about him to a neighbour instead
of painting or cooking dinner.
As he lay down there on a level with the feet
of the commuters
he noticed no-one polished their shoes anymore...
well,no-one could polish trainers of course..,
though you can wash them----
he saw the way people leaned forward as if pushing themselves
against a gale.
though it was a still warm day.
It seemed as if they were battling against a huge force,
not relating to the feeling of their weight upon the earth.
It was some spiritual force which was pushing them back
towards the Underground,hot and turgid with sweat and dust.
A sanitised Inferno,where the hell is in the collective mind
.
The force seemed to push them in and they pushed back and did
eventually make it into the street outside and into Westminster,
for we all need our rulers.
He lay there all morning musing, until a tramp came over
and asked him to buy a copy of the Big Issue.
And he stood up and bought it gratefully,
taking strength from the acknowledgement of his humanity.
He phoned the office, went home
and told his wife
he'd like to know how she had spent her morning
how she felt,how he wanted to learn to talk and listen,
and recommends now
that if you can fall off the escalator
without breaking a leg
you might be glad
to see life from the bottom up;
for he'd always looked from the top down
and was above everyone.
These reversals,though fearful,
can give us a new perspective
especially on women who are so often
on the underside of society
He's wondering about changing his life
from up to down..
and down to up.
Mothers always said,it's good to have a change.
I don't think it was their husbands they meant..
though.........who knows?
A game of musical chairs might be good
on the weekend,
if you live near a good escalator.
Escalating... it's not for the beginner
at falling.
There is a mixed shoal of marine life creatures
Who live in a neighbourhood at the bottom of the sea
A mixed and varied group
Living together cohesively and in harmony
Timmy Tuna and Sally Salmon are best mates since primary school
They hang out together daily, have fun, explore and swim
Yet always aware and mindful of fishing hooks and nets
In fear of ending up in a tin!
Colin Crab is a quiet and gentle soul
Who deals with one mayor f’rustacean ….his sideways walk
Eye contact is not easy to connect or maintain
When catching up with his neighbours to talk
Barry Blowfish ….known to all as Blowie
Has struggles with his weight….mainly bloating
It tends to get him a little down
Often seen sadly drifting by ….puffed up and floating!
The huge and extended Pilot Fish family
Are Simon Sharks personal security company called the ‘Pilot Fish Clan’
Their mantra being…. keep your friends close
But your enemies closer….if you can!
Simon Shark is a aloof ,stern individual
Known in the neighbourhood as the cranky old man
He often disappears for weeks on end
With his steadfast ,protective ‘Pilot Fish Clan’!
Wally whale is the gentle giant of the neighbourhood
He is relaxed, gentle and loves to chill
Playful and continuously entertaining
Blowing water out his spout giving the neighbour folk a big thrill!
Then there is Stevie Stone fish….l think the name says it all
He enjoys partaking in a bit of C-weed
An expressionless face ,eyes glazed and lids heavy
He’s got the munchies again and now off for yet another feed!
Dolphins…Daisy and Derrick are married
They are happy and the sweethearts of the neighbourhood
Endlessly helping and taking care of others
Their intentions are forever selfless and good!
I wish I was asked this question when I was five years old
For it's a question I would have answered as my words unfold
This never happened yesterday, it was way back, 1966
What made our neighbour decide, to ignite his floorboards sticks
Our whole house woke in panic, smoke billowed everywhere
Into the darkness we stared, at five years old and scared
Thoughts running through my head, confused in a darkening world
Then suddenly I could see, my vision became un-blurred
What I took I couldn't grab, for it was already a part of me
For I, I took myself, and thanked my eyes to see
But going back to the original question, just what would I grab
It would have been an image of my brother, he was seven, and he was fab
JEALOUS MOON
The moon was jealous of the sun
He who got to shine all the days
Illuminating the moon by night
And providing warmth for Earth
But of humility there was a dearth
With pride in its life-giving light
Even through a dull misty haze
It was there when life had begun
But the moon had secrets of her own
The cause of tides across the world
A near neighbour for man to explore
Offering a sobering view of our planet
An inspiring photo, none could plan it
Mankind had not thought of it before
In a loyal fixed orbit as it gently curled
And reachable by man as was shown
Meanwhile the sun remained all alone
None could ever reach it and survive
Burning hot gasses and big solar flares
Streaming dangerous ultraviolet light
Burning half the Earth by day and night
And still possible to catch us unawares
Yet its role was now to keep us all alive
As the world’s population had grown
The bright sun felt sorry for the moon
All grey and dusty, a puckered surface
No atmosphere and of mixed origin
Peppered with craters big and small
Yet still, so few facts are known at all
But the sun’s slow death would begin
Millennia yet, but no planned service
For humanity it’s hoped not too soon
We speak of the world as though it is one,
A singular place in which we live among,
And so we are taught and lead to believe,
There is only one world of which to percieve,
But upon exploration I think that you'll find,
The meaning of 'world' as it is defined,
Is not just a place known as the earth,
But an experience of living based on self worth,
For every living creature and all of mankind,
Live in their own world inside their mind,
And the world's seven wonders,
In all of their glory,
Can't begin to heal a mind,
Of sadness and fury,
For happiness lies in the place we reside,
Our very own world known as our mind,
So be kind to yourself and your neighbour too,
For he lives in a very different world than you
I had a friend he loved to nap
Usually on my bed, sometimes on my lap
He was very smart I tell you that
He didn't even mind my neighbour cat
His fur was brown, had very cute nose
He loved taking pictures he loved to pose
I loved him so much he had pretty good life
And then he got sick he couldn’t survive
Some time ago on the very cold day
It was last time for us to go out and play
I didn’t know how hard this would be
To say goodbye to Mitten for my boys and me
My heart was broken when I looked in his eyes
But I knew God will take him to his paradise
And then when he took his very last breath
I couldn’t stop crying because I knew he was death
I miss him so much each and every day
I wish he didn’t die I wish he could stay
He was my friend best friend of all
I loved him a lot with my heart and soul
His name was Mitten I know he runs free
And plays with the angels
And his waiting for me
Mitten was our family dog for 17 years, cancer took him away on, Feb7 2012
We all miss him a lot..:(
Whatever holds us together is threatened
by forces rending us apart:
Disparity of wealth and poverty
increase the emptiness of belly or soul.
Migrants displaced, overwhelm
our sense of identity, security.
Extremes of weather surge and
pull at our foundations; the edge of chaos.
The media of instant communication
should make us instantly at one,
but expose our privacy, vulnerability.
The news makes us voyeurs
of misery and achievement
fostering both guilt and envy.
Even as we shut if off, we isolate
ourselves from the human story
that would hold us as one.
Our prayers for unity that we may be
one in Christ, are frustrated by the walls
of our heritage, our governance
forming boundaries that enlarge the effort
it takes to come together.
Ignorance of the faith of the other
breeds intolerance of cherished beliefs.
The very enthusiasms we espouse
to overcome the gulfs of isolation
underline our difference.
Even the sexuality of others
is seen not as an intimate union but
a promiscuous corruption of relating
that was meant to bring new life.
The bond of humanity is threatened
by forces that would put us asunder.
The phone rings, interrupts my isolation:
I am pulled from fragments into now.
My neighbour so other, recovered,
I can after all take to her Church
in this octave of Unity.
There
I am welcome in the communion
of hymns, held, with Wesleyan warmth.