Great stars are being watched in packed houses,
Many of the shirts without blouses…
Someone has been doing a clean count,
Of it hoping to give an account
Soon, another shirt strides in: Raymond,
Off showing his ring: a diamond
‘‘If Grace ever shows in pigs might fly!”
Raymond, sure Grace will not, smiles the sly.
But – Gosh – he fears he’ll meet Jenny
Known to turn up like a bad penny.
With quick-to-melt Ruby not a bond,
Save that they’d been of each other fond.
Raymond’s diamond for the New Angel
He’ll go out with and not land in jail…
Why Jenny should turn up does not know
But how so nice letting ones lies grow!
Tall fair Raymond,
And taller fairer Desmond,
Of each other heartily fond,
And of a deepening bond,
Soon this did a violence for a blonde,
By name Gladys Frond:
A human copy of Luxuriant Palm Frond,
To Raymond “Pure Gold” and to Desmond “Sparkling Diamond”.
One to the other ceases to respond,
For if Ray grabs her,
Des is ending in a pond,
And Des with her goes far,
Ray channeling his swell fund,
Into the purse of a dirty James Bond!
The missing piece
A detrimental discovery
What has been uncovered is a guy that might be quite lonely
In the arms of the world around him
A life trimmed from the limbs of the living
A brother in the beginning
Where’d you go?
Evidence isn’t evident to show
Searched high and low
Disappeared into the dark without a glow
We don’t know what’s been unknown
Families torn, again to be sewn
Rose to the occasion
Thorns that expand their growth
The lost man
Alone as he stands
What was his plan?
Did he execute with his granted hand?
Uncle of the sky
Were you alive before you died?
The youngest escaped the fate and got away
Where’d you go?
Is an expedition too late to locate your trace?
Should we take a leap of faith and just say:
“It’s safe to say there’s no way we’re mistaken”
An idea that lies in minds that knew you had your time in life
Inspired by the writings of Raymond John Burt...
Here speaks the magic work of Raymond John
Intrigue in reference, delight in phrase
I’m curious as to what, my friend, you’re on
That powers your pen to so the mind amaze
Let he that has an ear be still and hear
Let she who has an eye seek out the light
For here some crazy wisdom doth appear
On wild wings of angels in the night
For Love and God and Death and Grace and Hell
Within your words take buttered toast and tea
More syllabub, Beelzebub? Pray tell
What syllables might set the Sibyls free
Get thee behind me, ghosts, take flight, be gone!
Here speaks the magic work of Raymond John
© Gail from Devizes 2016