Practised Poems | Examples

NOW THAT WE ARE AWAKE

NOW THAT WE ARE AWAKE

Now that we are awake – 
We had all the long while 
Been in deep dreamless slumber
And while we were still
Still slumbering in our
Unreal bed of red roses
They planned, practised and projected
What “tomorrow” would likely bring

Now that we have realized with pain
That the “tomorrow” we failed to plan for
Has changed herself to “today”
We watch with mouth agape
As their deep buried conduit pipes
In our land of milk and honey
Drain the natural resources 
That had sustained our life hitherto

Shall we fold our arms, do nothing or
Jump on the mass exodus bandwagon
While they milk our land dry?
Can we by this endless wailing
And tearful row and retorts
Within and outside our shores
Free our land, our people
From their firm and hurting grip?
Can we by mere declaration of innocence
Wish away the doom that looms?
Now that we are awake
Let’s answer these questions sincerely
As we continue to search for freedom.

NATIVITY

Sung to the tune of "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem"

Our infant school nativity,
Directed by Mrs. Page,
Was my first opportunity
To act upon the stage.
I always was an extrovert;
So that appealed to me.
My hopes and dreams of all the years,
An actor I would be.

I wanted to play Joseph,
‘Cos Mary was played by Joyce.
And, of all the little girls in the class,
She was my first choice.
And if I couldn’t be Joseph
And ride along with her.
I’d be a king with golden crown
And frankincense or myrrh

I practised every morning,
And every evening.
Imagining the audience applause
For Joseph or a king.
But when it came to casting,
It didn’t come to pass.
The part that Mrs Page gave to me
Was the back half of the ass.

But one day I’ll be famous,
And then I’ll marry Joyce.
The latest toast of theatreland
And all will know my voice.
I’ll invite all my friends to attend,
As I take centre stage.
They’ll be there in the front row.
But I won’t ask Mrs Page.

A WILDERNESS OF MIRRORS

A WILDERNESS OF MIRRORS

Where did individuality go, all toeing the same line
As all seem to be reflections of a similar persuasion
A wilderness of mirrors, each shows the same face
And of distinct personalities, there’s but little trace
Unique traits either lost or just practised at evasion
All have become identical vertebrae down the spine

Mirrors are more than merely a pane of clear glass
A silver backing will change what the image will be
Wherever one looks, it is the same adopted stance
All now just soulless eyes, never venturing a glance
For the moment, it’s now everyone else except me
But soon, I’ll see myself a thousand fold, as I pass

Allegory - or - Fanfare for Corpocracy's Rise

In silence, we watch shadows pass
they shape our thoughts and feed the farce

Moulding lives to fit the lies
that see us strive, conform and die

And scared of what we do not know
we do not move or seek to go

But idle in their well known forms
find safety in such practised norms

There is no need to speculate
the shadows teach us fear and hate

Breed small world views and selfish thoughts
dispense with troubling shoulds and oughts

It matters not what's right or wrong
so long as we all nod along

While voices preach invented truths
to justify each new abuse

As newborn Gods, those few rich men
close liberty's gate and lock the pen

Embrace what once seemed quite absurd
they are the path, we are the herd

In barless cages, through blinkered eyes
accepting corporate sponsored rise

The missing light upon that wall
...an absence which now stains us all

(Image credit: Sara Fang)

Merry Christmas!

The world sings Your praise
Says You were born in a stable
To where a bright star showed the way
To wanderers of the desert

They sing carols and make new ones
Year after year every Christmas
All that is nice and sweet to hear
But Lord I have another reason
To sing out aloud 
The greatness of Yours

I am no Christian by birth
Neither have I lent my ears
To missionaries who preach
And invite the world to their feuding folds

My country had a leader
Whom Your life influenced
And he put what he knew of You into practice
To free us from perilous bondage
Made us truly recognize
How You chimed with our ancient nascence

He is the Father Of Our Nation
None else in the world I think
Had the strong conviction he had
That Your teachings can be PRACTISED

My country therefore owes a lot
To You, Jesus Christ,
And to You we truly belong
Oh, guide us Divine Light 
And illumine the world

Let us celebrate Christmas
To usher in an era of peace
In which the whole creation can rejoice
Unbound, without fetters and barriers
In the bosom of true Christ Consciousness
Undifferentiated Oneness

Hey Ho Does An Octopus Know POTD

hey ho
does an octopus know
how to juggle with eight cups and saucers
and the fish watching him
while the elephants swim
then he juggles with a turtle and tortoise

then ho hey
does the octopus say
I can do this all day round in circles
but an ache in my arm 
in my arm, in my arm 
and so on through all eight tentacles

so hey ho
let the octopus go
to bed nice and early with honey
to rest and recline
for a considerable time
so he doesn’t feel worn out and funny

ho hey
and a new octopus day
refreshed and all ready to juggle
so with cups and with saucers
a turtle and tortoise
but the elephant’s splash makes him struggle

hey hey
that’s not fair that’s not fair
so the octopus went somewhere quieter
where he practised a lot
and a lot more than not
and so now he’s a pro entertainer

Primadonna

She spilled porridge down her tutu
As she drank her mug of wine
Sank it in just three swallows
And then she wanted mine

She wore a pair of dirty ballet shoes
Practised plies down the stairs
Played the prima ballerina
With her ill judged airs

She caught a plane to Greenland
Because she though it nice
To drink her sloe gin
With fresh frozen ice

The very very last time that I saw her
She was doing long handstands
Riding naked on a surfboard
Off of Van Diemens land

I thoroughly cleaned and aired my house 
Changed every lock on every door
Hoped she got the right message
Don’t come round any more

Sometimes I thought I might miss her
Bur then I quickly shook my head
Switched on the television
To watch a soap instead

She spilled porridge down her tutu
As she drank her mug of wine
Sank it in just three swallows
And then she wanted mine

Who Is a Poet

Who is a verse maker

Poetry is an odd art form practised where there are more
poets then writers because everybody, especially when young
 has a poem (usually hormonal) that needs expression, some end 
up as art teachers and prefer not to speak of their youthful attempts.
Seasoned poets go to poetry meetings, rather like alcoholics go to AA
 there is always some new way, to express old truths
 some of the old crusty ones run poem magazines and have a firm opinion 
on how poetry should be written; the best of them 
care more about content than writing rules.
The public, at large, only knows that poetry is romantic something 
to do, with flowers and trees and love made on soft, green grass.
The real poetry world is a narrow one, those who are famous in that world
 are spoken about with awe.
Old poets are grotty, smelly and eccentric, but are loved anyway.

A Speech With Two Motives

Kirk goes back to practised cadence,
With it he hits ears, no conscience,
Great stir in a once mute audience,
Afresh bides his time: Great Patience…

Talks triggered between close sitters
That a night guard steals embitters:
His straight sack: more hard hitters:
‘People’s wealth the meanly fritters!’

At the right time drop microphone:
Now, your voice is a xylophone.
They all hear you, no francophone.
If there’s one he should guess through tone.

What speakers do is stamp knowledge,
Over the rest ‘some sort of edge’:
That of one who’s passed through college,
Night candles not burnt sacrilege…

The Guard who steals likes his worst foes;
Just time he stepped on his seen toes
But like one fighting men’s woes:
It hurts when what comes quickly goes.

Mates

He’d made his preparations
There in his backyard;
Practised for many hours
Dressed in socks and leotard.
They’d all said it was impossible,
It just couldn’t be done;
When he left they laughed
And thought they’d all won.
But then he went and did it.
Then did it again for spite;
Then did it another three times
All on that very same night.
Nobody else has managed it
Though they’re all trying now
And he just stands and laughs 
And won’t show them how.
They’d said it was impossible
And left his ego sinking
But then he put his mind to work
And did some lateral thinking.
He’s still the only one successful
As of now and right up to date
And he’s a little bit embarrassed that
The whole world wants to be his mate.

Turkeys

A Brief Guide to the Tories
As practised in the UK
Grab what you can
Shall be the way

Life at the top
Seems to be a farce
When progress is made
By kissing ****

Brown paper envelopes 
From he who affords
Can secure a seat
In the House of Lords.

Cutting benefits
While all the while
Heaping honours 
On the Tax Exile

Look after their own 
Seems the creed
Charity is there 
For those in need.

The country run by
Ex red top hack
In what’s known as 
Getting a country back

Turkeys voted for Christmas
Don't assume they always wll
So while we're in power 
Get your fingers in the till

Grab what you can 
Shall be the way
We’ll take our chances
Come Judgement Day.

Written in the time of the unlamented Boris Johnson, but still relevant

Stifling a Giggle

Nonchalantly they practised skating artistically,
Both are considered champions in their own right, 
At one point they separated, each to his own end
When he suddenly fell, unbecomingly on the ice.

Both are considered champions in their own right
One could see the surprise on her face.
When he suddenly fell unbecomingly on the ice.
Hands went to her dainty mouth to stifle a giggle.

One could see the surprise on her face,
At one point they separated, each to his own end
Hands went to her dainty mouth to stifle a giggle.
Nonchalantly they practised skating artistically.

Date With Dracula

Carriage drawn by four black steeds
Zombie coachman no blood to bleed
He is employed by Dracula
Who calls him fondly Tarantula.

Tonight he's on deadly mission
His masters suffering malnutrition
With fangs that ache, desperate for blood
He's practised in art of courtly love.

Tarantula picked up Dracula's date
Dressed to the nines her fate awaits
Beautiful woman if only she knew
Vampires entice and then subdue.

Charming Count's enigmatic smile 
Teeth so white he does beguile
Taking her hand at table they sit
He really has most invasive wit.

Weaving his spell she quickly falls under
Satisfied Count made fatal blunder
He turned her into creature of night
She now bedevils him, wanting a bite.

Open Your Eyes and See

Practice makes perfect
Yet not all things need practice
Who taught you to suck?
When you had just born
Yet you were so perfect at it

Maybe you had practised for months before
Sucking your thumb in preparation
Or you had practised before deposition in heaven
That you were so perfect at it

Nature runs through it course
There is time for everything
Everything have got its season
Not all things need practice to be perfected

Open your eyes and see
Shield of deliberate mistakes
The excuses we often make
Practice makes perfect

For a Few Lovers More

For a few lovers more.

I was driving along on the car radio Rod Stewart
Sang” have I told you lately that I love you.”
Perhaps it wasn’t Rod but someone else what
Do I know about popular music?
Why do I find it hard to say those simple words?
 I have practised in front of the mirror, like an actor
who knows his line but lacks imagination
I bought her a car instead.
That made her happy, she meet her lover 
come back and kiss my bald head and say, “love you.”
thinking of him.
I met her lover at a party, walked up to him
and said “I love you for making my wife happy.
He was stunned into silence.
She stays home, I think the lover broke it up
because when they made love, he was thinking of me.
the spell, of having a hidden affair was broken.

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