Urban jungle roosters,
born-again scarecrow,
to untutored city eyes,
tawny pipit stonewall nester,
jet black Inca dove bereft,
of dovetail on a croque monsieur,
idle bone grub crawl,
mother hen to sandy brown,
and velvet bill gazer,
from an nearby creak,
recent rural migrant now,
a tree house side kick,
chickadee a late date sitter,
on this air flock beaky natter,
or tweet between the ice float,
edgy grey day species wield,
their sprightly ruffled feathers,
as an orthopaedic surgeon,
and their spatula when scraping,
rancid bark off windmill elm trees,
gastric bugle trenchermen ahoy,
while ogling a fellow common redpoll,
oh these tummy rumble diners,
will zoom in on every gourmet,
tangled wire mesh feeder station.
round and round they’ll fly,
on zesty mission beetroot,
a cock-eyed scavenger‘s delight,
are they siblings of a noble order?
white tale mountain bluebirds swopping,
habitat for granite boundary habit,
off key off discordant choirboys,
six sided snow bird chorus,
ear splitter for tardy wakening,
they cheep religiously as if,
their only valid creed was,
window squinting prayer meets
Categories:
orthopaedic, art, beautiful, beauty, environment,
Form: Ekphrasis
Ceaseless painful twists and turns,
Dying marrow aches and burns;
Suffer tougher case of bones
Wasting credits in help phones,
Doctors handling of ailment,
Tablets, capsules of treatment,
Patients dumping ornaments,
Seeking Foreign Liniments,
Osteopathy from movements,
Guessing patient's improvements...
Trouble wilder than Fracture,
Lessened focus on structure;
Deeply bothered Osteopath
Orthopaedic walks soft path;
Body trusted to heal self
Making challenge hurt oneself.
Categories:
orthopaedic, absence, cry, death, health,
Form: Rhyme
This pathway is doubly dangerous
That one who cuts my stitches
A tad too short
Is the same who reaches
Carelessly too close
To that dreadful corona mortis
God’s own anatomical variant
A beautiful but fearful anastomosis
A marriage of a sweet obturator
And a rather inferior epigastric
My ultimate dream
Is to broach and to ream
That sweet canal
So I ignore that fire
Set on my path
I size up the breadth and girth
Of a choice that was never fair
Whatever it takes, I swear
I won’t stumble into oblivion
Neither will I sway into varus
Until my tools are packed
And my destination reached
Mine will be a glorious tale
With an ending marked
By an exaltation of larks
Hands steady as a rock
Eyes keen as a hawk
I fear neither the dark nor the cold
I will push and I will reach
For that prize of gold
My heart will sing
When I restore with my knife
So never ever forget my name
For this will not be my last dance
In this dark pelvis of life!
Categories:
orthopaedic, confidence, deep, emotions, extended
Form: Quintain (Sicilian)
Time for a de-clutter , make some room
in drawers and shelves,
Feng Shui folk swear that it makes
one feel good about oneself.
These trainers from my glory days
of racing round a track
now swopped for orthopaedic shoes
that help my calves and back.
That old Blue Stratos aftershave
for attracting women faster,
all I need now is my Gillette G3
and a box of sticking plasters.
The medallion and gold chain can go
from nineteen seventy six,
as my Medic alert tag round my neck
will not pull any chicks.
The tight briefs from back when I had
ideas above my station,
replaced with baggy boxer shorts
for better ventilation.
And should God say my time is up
and kindly call me home,
he'll find that I shall travel light-
no more need for this comb!
Categories:
orthopaedic, age, humor,
Form: Rhyme
When we first met, in love we used to glide
on waves of bliss like pairs of sunglow swans,
now we slowly totter,and try to hide
our orthopaedic socks and thick long johns.
We still hold hands like back on that first date
but now it's less a gesture, decades on
else I'd walk off ahead then have to wait
while you found something firm to lean upon.
You said you'd like a skirt to match your eyes
I did my very best but must confess
I went to every shop but no-one buys
or maybe no-one sells a bloodshot dress.
you run your fingers through my hair a bit,
these days I marvel just how fast it goes
these greying locks ,well, what remains of it,
from off my scalp and southwards to my nose.
Annoying habits met with just a sigh,
you snoring on the sofa after tea
or ducking as my nail clippings shoot by,
or leaving used bags out when making tea.
Love's outer shell is merely just it's name,
inside it's precious pearl remains the same.
Categories:
orthopaedic, humor, love,
Form: Sonnet