"Eat your veggies," as a nipper I was told
but I'd hide 'em on me lap so Mum wouldn't scold
then all the quicker feed 'em to the dish-licker
before they were even cold
now I'm older not sadder but wiser
and do enjoy a tasty appetiser
they may appear to look like a pear
here's a myth I wish to quash
tho' they're fruit chayotes taste like
zucchini cucumber or squash
against the fence homegrown I grow me own
and me garden's full of chokos
"Choko-bloc," one might even say
I'll do a prickly pear or two
but still don't eat veggies to this day
Draw back the curtains at your wake
To welcome in October
And heartily libation take
Lest the old crows find you sober
Invite your fond familiars in
Each cat and rat and magpie
Ignite your jack-o’-lantern grin
And kiss the moon at midnight
Fling far and wide your festive gold
Let no leaf go unvarnished
Stoke hearth and heart against the cold
Lest silver linings tarnish.
Its rich and charismatic smell
Entranced ancestors by its spell.
Caters to all tastes, young and old,
Strikes hot against the common cold.
Its secret lies deep yet well known -
Plucked essence boiled to the bone.
Favourite flavours that go in
Depend on cultural cuisine.
In winter, spring, summer or fall -
One Chicken Soup for every soul!
Fact, not folklore, no need to probe,
Taken as truth around the globe.
CS, like PS poem, indeed,
Heals bodies and cures souls in need!
August 25, 2023
When life is full in my throat,
I pray with an embryonic want.
I hear the needs
of the innocent and dragons,
they do not seem
so different to me.
The plaintive calls of the lost,
the tigers panting bruit
are not so different.
I am what the egg wants.
I want a pulsating engine
that crashes through the tangle
of this worlds face.
I want a hammer-bright orison
to challenge with a shell-breaking voice.
In sundry ways deaf to your zeal
Which foxy whims fruitless sway,
My wandering self did finally feel
Pearliest sparks of your legit ray.
Inured by bestial blinding decoys
Which easiest-faring limb obeys,
I did heed a deluding artful voice
That upon artless hearers preys.
For want of fine wholesome sense
Which your ancient anthems teach,
My guessing soul staggered tense;
Serf to a brutish debauching leech.
Yet now have my penitent eyes
At last gleaned your folios wise,
And found therein priceless wit
Sublimer than sage magi's writ.
A Paean of Love
I love you so much my Love that I feel my heart will burst,
I crave for you so intensely that you can’t quench my thirst.
You are with me always, whether I am awake or I’m asleep,
Without my knowing, in my mind you always furtively seep.
More precious than all the riches in the world, Love you are,
You seem more attractive than the dazzlingly beautiful star,
When you’re at my side I feel the comfort of the cool breeze,
But when you are away, my whole empty life seems to cease.
My love is aflame and all consuming like a forest set on fire
With every passing moment it leaps up high and even higher.
I’ll love you with this burning passion always and for evermore.
Nestle in my heart my Love! --- Enter through the open door.
THE MARX BROTHERS or The Unimportance of Being Earnest
I will praise the brothers Marx for their absurdity
As all ‘fools’ who mask high wisdom with the artless
May they lift our spirits faced with an adversity
The rejection of such gladness would be heartless
For when loosed of strictures rife with disapproval
Their spirits could create with wild abandon
Then without constraints demanding the removal
Of that which breaks the sanctity some stand on
So I bless them for activities unbounded
Say our God is not a solemn old curmudgeon
Their folly then belied the earnest tied and grounded
Freed from stark importance laid on with a bludgeon
Could it be they heard on entering The Hereafter
Not only harp strings, but the joyful sound of laughter
10 September
Contest: My Upcoming Birthday Celebrity
Sponsor William Kekaula
Now, at last, I finally understand:
I can never be complete within myself...
without You, my emotions betray me,
my mind counteracts itself,
hope will flee me, despair will eat me,
unless I reach out for Your love
with a child's open arms....
My door is decked with holly and pine,
The larder’s stocked with fancy food and wine.
Tiny lights twinkle on bannister and tree,
Dozens of cookies to bake, if there’s time free.
Knitting needles flash for each gift,
Presents need wrapping, but my spirits lift,
As I look forward to visitors sharing
This season of love and caring.
Corny old movies to see,
Golden retriever cards sent to me.
Dog cookies and jerky too I’ll bake,
For my goldies to greedily take.
Singing with joy old carols,
Especially if peace they herald.
Holiday parties at friends’ homes,
Catching up with others an excuse to roam.
But after the hubbub a chance to relax,
Wine and pellet stove a soothing anticlimax.
A good book awaits on summer paddling fun,
‘Twill transport me to the season of sun.
So here’s wishing you such happy fun,
Once the bustling about is done.
May love and joy fill your holiday season,
Fond memories made for any reason.
MRT 12-21-15
Skype tells me it’s your birthday, Polly Ross,
a disembodied message from the ether
that nipped me like a redback. “Southern Cross” –
remember that? So, hurl it in my teeth, or
delete me, tweet me, blank me, come across –
do what you will, I’m living with the loss.
You probably no longer give a toss.
If only I’d a cooler glamour-gloss,
could be more Aussie actor (Meller? Heather?)
you’d see the gold, and set aside the dross.
I miss you, need you. There. But you’re the boss …
What due is this, O feline fierce,
for what affront thus penalized
with calibrated nips that pierce
for soft caress unauthorized?
T’was you with brazen move unasked
who burnished coat upon my limb.
What dire affect iconoclast
did stir your feral feline whim?
The cat is oft like womankind
beyond man's feeble intellect,
a primal spirit state of mind,
requiring manners circumspect.
Oh, you daughters and sons of Man,
Latent heralds of truth,
Oh, you pioneers of hope, peace and mercy,
Sleeping apostles of compassion,
Wake up and join our ever-expanding ranks of love,
You, solemn knights of light,
For it is time that darkness sounds retreat,
Beyond the boundaries of earth!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 NOVEMBER 2012
Disguised as a horse,
Walked the rim of the track
Stepping onto the hippodrome
There was no turning back
Zeus, piqued by this folly
Turned proud steed into donkey
At the wire annoyed spectators
Might think him an ass?
When David McDee read the news on TV
There never was murder or stealth
Just birthdays and weddings (new recipes, too)
And people inheriting wealth.
How Mrs. McDee's flower bed came along,
How neighbors had torn down the fence.
Such positive bits of informative news
To David, made imminent sense.
When David McDee read the news on TV,
The weather was sunshine and warm.
The sports casts concerned only games that were won;
All losses considered bad form.
When David McDee read the news on TV
Pure innocence lighted our eyes
There were no surprises or odd little wrongs:
All greetings and never goodbyes
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