I went to the butchers to get me some fish
I asked for some haddock to bake in a dish
The butcher said, “Sir, if it’s fish that you’re after,
You’ve picked the wrong place and you couldn’t pick dafter.”
He said, “If you want fish you want the fishmonger,
I know cos I bought some fish when I was younger.”
To find the fishmonger did not take too long
In order to find it I followed the pong
I didn’t want fish bones to stick in my teeth
So went in and asked for a nice piece of beef
The man was abrupt, he was no politician
He said, “I’m no butcher, Sir… I’m an optician.”
The other day I read a Facebook post,
where they asked this silly question again.
Find a word that starts with the letter O,
but that word must end with the letter N.
Of course, I know it’s just my opinion,
and taken from my own observation.
That it would not take much of an optician,
to see this as open ostentation.
Now I feel I have an obligation,
to sit on the octagon ottoman,
Where I often eat an Oregon onion,
while petting my baby orangutan.
His name is Owen Odin Orion,
his occupation is just an oarsman,
But he has joined an organization,
to help an orphan find his origin.
He had a small organ operation,
with an option to open an obstruction.
They had to keep him on some oxygen,
while they blasted it to oblivion.
I wonder if I have an obsession,
for words that start with O and end in N.
My opposition says it’s an omen,
I say it’s an overreaction again.
A sea mist rolls inshore this morning
The optician proposes a cataract op
I’m growing old inside my eyes.
Through that lens I cannot disguise.
She saw them today while magnifying.
Tiny cataracts is what she was spying.
Emma the optician must be lying.
I’m growing old within my knees.
When I struggle to rise please don’t tease.
Getting down is fine to light the fire.
Only now I wish the range was higher.
Being watched makes me even shyer.
Im growing old but feeling fine.
Now relaxing I type as I recline.
No more worries with work stress.
Old age really is the best
antidote to being young.
Sometimes it’s even a lot more fun.
Floaters crisscross blinking eyes.
After a brief scientific analysis
it is concluded that an invasion of minute
alien spacecraft has occurred.
An optician assures:
these aberrant phenomena are perfectly normal
for a non-perfect being.
Unverified estimates of an unknown illness;
projections of billions of invasive germs follow,
tank-like organisms working overtime
to smash through flesh and plasma
reigning shock-shells of dissolution
onto peace loving white knights.
It is to be hoped that microbial
barbaric and brawny hosts
of avenging bacteria will soon
assault these malignant besiegers
from the rear. Surprise attacks
from all sides
until the munching, mad
germs in their pointy Prussian war helmets are
subdued, but it’s touch and go
it can turn out either way.
The day is spent ignoring
simple explanations of ocular spots
knowing for certain only infected spacecraft
can possibly maneuver like that.
A sea mist rolls inshore this morning
The optician proposes a cataract op
A sea mist rolls inshore this morning
The optician proposes a cataract op
BANTU an imagist couplet Each line a compete idea,the 2nd however constrasts with a complementary description or explanation or metaphor thereof
A practising young obstetrician
Began to review his position.
Childbirth it would seem,
Drove ladies to scream
Ergo, he became an optician!
09/01/19
My first spectacles perched on my nose,
with frame and glasses, my first photo pose.
Optician cried," Wow!, Can you see clear now?"
"Oh Yes, my beautiful binocular,
I could see my world, all spectacular.
But my future still looked blurred
my weak eyes, cured of myopia
yearned to see an invisible utopia."
I grew old...
Sneaked in bifocals, and life changed gear.
Optician cried," dear, can you see your near?"
"Oh yes, my reading glass was crystal clear.
But why was my heart so full of fear?
With wide open eyes, I still couldn't see,
so many people who were close to me."
I grew older and older...
My retinal sight, now had vision of night.
Cold darkness spread in broad daylight.
Unlimited vision, I could see a closing door,
waiting for the day...I wouldn't see anymore.
I’m sorry but I chose to scribe
I’m running out of words
I really wish I figure out how to set this
To you
I was never the child you wanted
I can’t face you into the eye because of my shame
I extinguished all the family flame
I was to be the yellow rose of the family garden
But I chose my path
The desires of my heart parted with your expectations
I know it hurts to yield reeds in from maize seeds
All your efforts to customize your son blew away
To me as well it is just like a live surgery
Leaving you ways I never wished but what doesn’t kill us is good for us all
I might be leaping in the dark but I’m in the right direction
My heart follows it desires
A pilot would have been, politician or even
An optician for my knowledge is like a field I cultivate it in my own way
But my mind and heart are in the people.
I believe arts are a voice for the voiceless community
In media and arts lies the power of words
Standing up for the people, being their comforter
Motivator and activator if possible
... Thus why I chose to scribble...
...COLLEN GAGA
Ms. Dolly has something with things
that a naked eye can’t see.
Once she went for dinner;
a charming date,
and a plate of fine cuisine.
A plate of tilapia fish was right in front of her.
She could see an eye looking straight
at her – still and unblinking. She felt as though
the fish was staring right at her.
She gasped in terror,
as though she had seen a ghost.
“Are you okay dear?” her lover asked.
“It’s the fish!” she said.
Her lover thought that it was the pepper;
he ordered her another fish,
this time without pepper. Another still,
unblinking eye she saw – she gasped once
again.
“What’s wrong now, honey?” he asked.
“The eyes!” she said, her face
flashing in terror.
Her lover then thought her eyes had a problem.
“I’ll get you the best optician in town,” he promised her.
“I can’t stand all what I’m seeing!” she said, amid
breaking whispers….
Date of Entry: 8/27/2016
Colourless
Woke up
It was morning
And I was
Colour blind
The optician
Had no glasses
For this
Illness
I bought
A kaleidoscope
The world I see
Is crazier than I thought
There was an optician somewhat blind
Whose patients found him easy to malign.
So he gave rose-colored glasses
A move that calmed the masses.
Now his practice has become sublime.
Limerick multiplication : Once an optimistic Optician
for Elodie
Once an optimistic Optician
Looked deep into her Client’s vision
Saw worlds unknown to her
And lost her way back here
Client left her in utter confusion
or
Client left but stark pessimism
or
Now straddles acute astigmatism
or
Now suffers from divided attention
or
Now has gone on a mystic mission
or
Optician and Client in mutation
or
Now both revel in sacred damnation
or
Client made Optician eye donation
or
Now both sell eye-drops in collusion
or
Now Client gives Optician eye lotion
or
Now Client gives lessons in eye motion
or
Optician gives Client sole solution
or
Client then rubs Optician in the shin
or
Optician then throws Client in the bin.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
I’ve had my eyes tested
And I am 20/20
I am not short sighted
Nor long sighted
My eyes are healthy
There is no glaucoma
No floaters
Nor cataracts
My sight is perfect
So why is it
When I look at you
I see an angel
When you are anything but
I asked the optician
Why, with such perfect vision,
Can I not see betrayal?
He told me
That I have perfect vision
Its just rose tinted
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