You are getting on, old fruit
Too obese to wear your new suit
Your face resembles a wrinkled prune
Old age is showing on you too soon,
What has happened to your lustrous hair
Your scalp is shiny and noticeably bare
Your jowls are hanging lower than your chin
My word, I cannot believe what a state you're in
Shoulders that were broad and strong
They are now all hunched and look all wrong.
Your knees are knobbly and a little bent,
The left leg forgot where the right one went.
I can not understand you when you talk,
Your brain, not your legs, has gone for a walk
Your eyes look blank, staring into space
You have lost touch with the human race.
We lost touch over the years,
After sharing much laughter and some tears
I have just seen you interviewed on TV
Old fruit, it was a shock to me,
To see you sitting in a chair,
With all the hoi polloi and fanfare there
Smiling happily from ear to ear
Holding up a glass of cheer
With the TV presenters and your guests
Wishing you the very best
And the audience stood up to say
Many happy returns of your 110th BIRTHDAY!
Categories:
presenters, 10th grade,
Form: Rhyme
I never said the fish was that big,
just long enough for your surprise.
Yes, the sky did fall down once -
though not in ways you've come upon.
The art of the little white lie
is a Trojan horse disguised
to catch your attention.
To trick you to pose or question
what you'd never otherwise ask.
The lie, error or mistake,
flips the mind to correction,
demanding reparation.
It works a treat for advertisers
lecturers, presenters, debaters and charlatans.
It begs the question, demeans the ask-er,
but masters the magician's
conjuring tricks of deception.
A fool takes the bait,
a wise one casts acting the fool.
Categories:
presenters, allusion, magic,
Form: Free verse
From morning light until 6pm at night,
I'm behind the scenes curating delight.
With tones that echo on your radio,
blending local stories into audio.
In the heart of waves, where frequencies ascend,
from AM to FM, radio signals extend.
In the realms of airwaves, where voices roam,
broadcasting melodies that are heard at home.
With many dials, meters and buttons galore,
producing shows, which listeners adore.
Weaving scripts to ensure presenters flow,
creating playlists of songs people know.
Colleagues call me the conductor of sound,
composing themes to entertain all year round.
Preventing silence from all transmissions,
making life easy for my technicians.
Inviting guests from a wide range of places,
from different backgrounds and new faces.
On standby to report on breaking news,
using social media to increase the views.
Monitoring projects are in my domain,
there's also an apprentice I have to train.
It's not just about navigating the studio,
I compose the moments that make hearts glow.
Categories:
presenters, work,
Form: Rhyme
As a smokless; human spirit; I yet celebrate'
New Zealands move, not to bin it.' The choice
To use that nicoteen.. Or not.' Is what
We now; are seeing..A drug if types.? Yet not
Invasive, unlike the jabbing drug paraded on
Every screen and radio.' Hordes of presenters
So gung-ho.! So positive in much unknown to
Kids adolecents and fully grown, past 2008 no
One it seems? Can be self determined it hits
My spleen, a different bile allbeit so' we all must
Prevent deny, it though' might and bluster will
Be used' yet the corrosive threat; is our freedom'
Being abused, a crushing of soul specially among
The younger.' Is there a move that this group are to
Be senseless intended? Just malleble drones i well
Consider? This should through all Nations send
Great shivers.!
Categories:
presenters, addiction, appreciation, discrimination, freedom,
Form: Free verse
The trials of thought.
Up you get ! and down you go,
turn on, turn up, and !
Ingest the ingreidients
of the set menu show
Sit sat there ! You belive that your free!
Is that an Elephant ?
That im expected to swallow,
Climbing a very tall Tree
That thought, has sunk in,
Fully Excepted , without question! !
Any susspcion of truth
disapears to the delete bin
Cancel and Click ! Lies are power
presenters are party to this !
Removing key blocks
from your heads jenga tower
So, up you get, down you go !
lifes tower, now collapsing,
brain and mouth firmly stiched,
words of truth banned, in a show.
Categories:
presenters, freedom,
Form: Free verse
"I have never started a poem whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering."
- Robert Frost
Poetry is an art
That gushes from the heart,
When we pen our feelings,
It helps in mind's healings;
I'm sure you're concordant ~
Extremely important
Is poetry in life,
It helps overcome strife;
Unique men and women,
We fight battles with pen,
We are God's messengers,
Merely His presenters;
He gives the words, we write,
In this darkness, spread light,
It’s God’s gentle caress,
Relieves some of our stress;
Writing poems, we’re strong,
Trying to right some wrong,
Poetry makes us, us,
Writing is sure a plus.
11.24.2021
For Constance La France's ""W" New Poems" contest
Categories:
presenters, blessing, poetry, poets, writing,
Form: Rhyme
We hear presenters views,
We hear the production teams views,
We hear carefully selected views,
We hear whatever they choose,
Is it a manipulation of views?
On a massive platform for views!
People out of pocket & views!
Surely not! Or is it! You choose!!
Categories:
presenters, confusion, humor,
Form: Free verse
So what exactly happened
When that final name was read?
Is it true that the presenters
Got a mixed-up card instead?
The accountants took the blame, of course,
But was the fault their own?
And the host accused himself, but really,
How could he have known?
Both the stars who did the blurting
Were insistent they’d been fooled
And it’s possible they were and thus,
Unfairly ridiculed.
Still, to all of us who watched,
We’ll never know how it occurred.
Just another case of truth and fiction’s
Borders being blurred.
Categories:
presenters, art,
Form: Rhyme
There once was a long vanished England;
Of well-spoken presenters
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service, and Children’s Favourites,
Of coppers and tanners, and ten bob notes;
And jolly shopkeepers, and window cleaners.
I remember my cherished Wolf Cub pack,
How I loved those Wednesday evenings,
The games, the pomp and seriousness of the camps,
The different coloured scarves, sweaters and hair
During the mass meetings,
The solemnity of my enrolment,
Being helped up a tree by an older boy,
Baloo, or Kim, or someone,
To win my Athletics badge,
Winning my first star, my two year badge,
And my swimming badge
With its frog symbol, the kindness of the older boys.
Categories:
presenters, childhood, england, history, life,
Form: Free verse
My unusual physical appearance
Was enhanced by a striking thinness,
And enormous long-lashed blue eyes.
Less charmingly, I was also the kind of
Deliberately malicious little hooligan
Who'd remove some periodical
From a neighbour's letter-box
And then mutilate it before reposting it.
The sixties' famed social and sexual revolution
Was well under way, and yet for all that,
Seminal Pop groups such as the Searchers
And the Dave Clark Five;
Even the Fab Four themselves,
Were quaintly wholesome figures.
And in comparison to what was to come,
They surely fitted in well
In a long vanished England
Of Norman Wisdom pictures;
And the well-spoken presenters
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service and World Service,
Of coppers and tanners
And ten bob notes;
And jolly shopkeepers
And window cleaners.
At least that's how I see it,
Looking back at it all
From almost half a century later.
Categories:
presenters, childhood, culture, history, london,
Form: Free verse
Noise ,trouble all they say,
No hour no minute no second they pay,
Trouble trouble is ours.
All stories reflect us,
Drinking escaping everyday,
More say we’re notorious,
Again commenting nothing we play.
No sand no stone where to step,
Mad, water everywhere,
Presenters’ elders aren’t there,
Never remember our assistant there.
Their looking reflect the wall,
Never speak of strengths,
Evil, evil seen well,
No matter important me acts.
Categories:
presenters, depression,
Form: Lyric