Joints and tendons ache
Water works partly block
Teeth; gums you forsake
In the mix, the odd rock
Nobody prepares you
Suddenly, the decline
Friends not foes, few
You want to only recline
Like yesterday's news
You are now quite stale
Worth very few views
Repeating a woeful tale
Your pals drop dead
On goes the count
Next obit to be read?
As health events mount
polar pals parading around, perky in pink
Pretty Patty Pureblood and her bear Ink
They were proved friends, who loved each other
Closer than a sister, mother or brother
They were the talk of the town at first said Mrs. Yerk
But now we are used to them, and it seems to work
They bring cookies to the shut ins and read scripture too
They would look odd now if they wore yellow or blue
We may choose our friends
even pick our pals
tho' it won't make no never mind
if they're guys or gals
but just to get it off my chest
while keeping you abreast
and not go bust or waters muddy
for me Dolly Parton would have been
my best bosom buddy
APROPOS OF DING DONG DITCH AND PALS
Literally, AI pranks
Have caused suicides:-
One while on the computer;
The other by a back shot:-
This may sound funny,
But death is no silly joke;
Neither should pranks be:-
Putting all in perspective,
In half of a month,
Check out “AI Psychosis”
And its friend, “Sycophancy”!?!
As must be with war,
Let us crack down on greed and
Its collateral damage:
At least give this all some thought:-
Zebras and giraffes are pals with wows!
Like pygmy goats and milking cows
If predators are close, giraffes sound the alarm
Zebras run with their herd to avoid death or harm
I watch my years flow by
from chair, from sofa, bed.
I watch my life go by.
And life sees me go by -
my folks, my friends, my pals.
How long will this go on?
What do they think of me
as they can see me pass
so swiftly, this way, that?
Little life goes by
from chair, from sofa, bed.
What now is there to see
as I watch life go by?
(10 Apr 2024)
Many purple poets with so much to say
Can’t read them all but teal try anyway
I heard red heart beat from white page
Was in your cherry chest but I felt it anyway
I green gain from poems good and bad
I like them short long strong happy sad
I like them peach weak very inspiring
Like comforting soul food hot filling
I read your poems like a yellow song
I imagine your face voice singing along
The comments section is the best
Love it even when it’s rude and a test
Because we can grow despite brown dirt
We can fly like lime kite from good word
Of special importance writing since my youth
I’ll keep at it while reading your words too
I remember a group of little ones
Playing in the sun having fun
Each one a mate and a cobber true
All having a say in what we’d do
We grew to care for each other specially
Inseparable together laughing so easily
Alan was the best sportsman
Playing football and cricket was at his command
As we grew we knew that life was good
Making our way together as mates should
Growing up we started to go our separate ways
But the bond was made for all our days
One day they found something was wrong
And Alan fought cancer so long and strong
Finally he passed on at eighteen
Then the group is missing one not again to be seen
We all have mates that come and go
As we go through life and its show
But there are only a few true mates
And we are at the call of life’s fates.
© Paul Warren Poetry
You know I heard that right?
The unfair screaming at yourself, unrelenting.
That’s not okay tonight.
Even if you think it’s acceptable venting.
Because hearts hurt and you can’t really heal.
When every time it gets a layer, you rip off the peel.
Who told you to talk like that?
Who said that’s how we should think?
Why do you run so fast
To push yourself to the brink?
In case no one has said, there’s a bit you should know.
So I’ll have it be read. I hope it’ll flow.
I know I don’t know you,
I know I don’t need to.
It’s not hard for me to love
And love until I see you through.
You are my dear friend
You’ll see in the end.
I swear I’ll have you die knowing
That this life that you spend
Meant worlds when you penned
And I could see your soul showing.
Now that it’s February, two weeks in
And Valentine’s is upon us again
I suppose I just wanted to make sure I say.
Life has connected us through pen
I can’t wait to meet again, friend.
Oh! And if you have not, you can be mine today.
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
grinning mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami and mon amie
that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night bus rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing windows,
as London transports them
even to far off Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
a last goodbye or maybe just trying
to cadge another tenner.
Friends forever.
One of my best friends died today
Left me before I had the chance to say
Exactly what I always wanted to express
My favorite friend one of my best
Friends from the beginning friends to the end
Best of friends so deep within
Friends are those you'll love to remember
Regardless of who regardless of gender
The people you've shared part of your life with
Never asking of much, always willing to give.
When's the last time you called a friend
Or are you just going to wait till the end
Their life will be gone before you know
Call them or find a simple way to show
Just how much they mean to you
A friend who's been your friend so true
Or sit there like there's no end
Until you lose another friend.
I find this very hard to say
One of my best friends died today.
Copyright © William Pickard |
Laughter with old pals,
like an immaculate song
can't be out of tune
It is life dancing
in lightheaded wisp of time-
a glass always full
-Nicola An
Ricketee Rocketee
Ellen DeGeneres
hosts her talk show with her
funniest moods
Loves kids who went viral
child-fun celebrity
take brainy kids at show
gives gifts or foods
Papayee Mommyee
Supernanny Jo Frost
who runs to the rescue
pal nine one once
Expert on time-out base
authoritarian
imposed her strict home rules
after child’s punch
Jan. 4, 2021
We are the pals brigade me lads,
the finest that you've seen.
We tilled the land just like our dads
or picked the coal black seam.
And now we're off to a foreign clime
to show Fritz a trick or two.
But we'll be back by Christmastime,
to spend it home with you.
We are the pals brigade me boys,
taking longer than we thought.
Battling through the mud and noise
for each inch of territory fought.
So keep the home fires burning dear
we'll be back before you know it.
But if we're to reap the harvest here,
well, first we have to sow it.
We are the pals brigade it's true,
battered and depleted.
We showed old Fritz a thing or two
and came home undefeated.
And now we've all made it back.
home après la guerre.
In serried ranks, on a plaque,
on the cenotaph in the square.
~~~~~~~
Pals
Their faces are still there;
caricatures and cameos,
amigo mugs and jug ears.
Cheering, jeering chums
that would phone at four in the morning
to garble drunken thoughts,
make momentous plans,
or borrow ten quid.
The oddball humorist
and part-time suicide,
the drama queen
contesting her own shadow,
the poet who never wrote a poem.
The mon ami that drank for you
when you could drink no more.
Long after the late-night rides,
I see their features pressed against
softly glowing bus windows,
as London transports them
to other decades, even to far Ohio;
their lips silently mouthing –
warnings perhaps, or
maybe just trying
to cadge another ten nicker.
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