Our lament for time well spent…with Farmer's market regulars Pip & Lizzie the pair are a sartorial oracle and festive fillip with follicle flair....was a delight to share forever memories at our locavore lair...
Through the mist of memories we sift
With whiffs of yesteryear cheer sniffed
Rides on sublime tides of time we drift
Rain again regulars refrain visit biffed
Others defending..spending limit thrift
Quiffed punter chunter I've been stiffed
Will harp on gets swift short sharp shrift
After rafter of laughter graft or grift
Miffed by dafter manager’s latest rift
Not the first time we have ever tiffed
One thing that will always give us a lift
Makes our hearts sing on a busy shift
Stops any tizzy thrill of fill of Phil & Lizzie
A heaven sent present our favourite gift..
With eve's awning, ere the hour
Sunset-imbued pulled down
Striped of what for rainy streaks
Autumn-matted as toned
Are of a mind, nonetheless
Off such could not digress.
For a street, its tranquil spell.
For an elegant row
Of bars, cafes and restaurants
Which are family owned
Its yet warm with that old style
Of welcomings, beguile.
It’s a crooked slope
that leads to hell
and I’m riding it
Stance Goofy
Those Regulars
that believe they aren’t,
are way out in front
tripping over themselves
polishing and buffering the way
So I must be putting
the right foot forward
Besides, I also carry a mascot
and fail safe
It’s a goldfish in a bag
who never moves his left fin
He’s showing more zip
in his tail of recent
since I started feeding him
those highly energised
copper and black batteries
He won’t be going down
anytime soon
except maybe with
lead poisoning
I prefer lithium myself
it’s much lighter
and makes my collapse
easier to stomach
* * *
life wearing braces
whilst holding a bag of fish
be happy with me
By
David Kavanagh
They begin sipping then supping the Best on cask
Charlie the legend of the barley does a guest ask
What are you up to for the rest of the weekend?
Well regulars would often become a good friend
With a big grin..they swig & say…not a lot mate
Won’t go far…in the offing a spot of bar mat flipping
Will be here till late relishing & cherishing your beer
Gags & chinwags spin laughing gear quaffing just staying in…
The bartender strolls from one
end of the counter to the other.
She makes small talk with regulars
who watch NFL games on screens
and a college basketball game
plays on another.
For each touchdown scored
mugs are raised.
Fans analyze every run and play
and the day unfolds.
while the bartender pours beers.
She says her boyfriend and dog
are at home.
A man at the end of the bar
pays his tab.
A woman from public housing
pushes her walker and sits
in their midst.
She’s come in to watch Cubs games
and she’s here again
although baseball season is over.
We were at a small
bar, the place only served some
older regulars.
An elderly guy
in an old jean jacket was
talkative, friendly.
“What do girls learn at
Yale?” He asked. “We’re taught things, like
expressions, smiling,
pomposity, snark,
whatevering and stuff-stuff.”
I bragged shamelessly.
“Sure,” He chuckled, “sure
- but it’s worth the money I suppose,”
he gave me a toast.
Limiting yourself
can, in fact, set you free - try
writing a Senryu
Like a martial art,
a tea ceremony or
classical music
They are a tight dance -
controlled, disciplined, focused.
Other styles can drift.
A Senryu is like
a Haiku except it deals
with human feelings
.
.
A Haiku/Senryu should three lines of 5-7-5 syllables
A Haiku should be about nature
A Senryu about human feelings
#senryu #haiku #focus #freedom #limits
Life on the windward side of our island,
at times, the tradewinds persuade downpour,
still, the sun light's gods and goddesses tanned.
Sailboats adrift, surfers thrill life ashore,
nightlife widespread mingling tingles aura,
at times, the tradewinds persuade downpour,
Fauna ground or inflight abound flora,
gossamers swaying entertain loved ones,
nightlife widespread mingling tingles aura,
Albatross' solitaries north isle runs,
regulars gadflies surrealists' gawking,
gossamers swaying entertain loved ones,
Infamy physicist Stephen Hawking,
come visit a true Paradise like those,
regulars gadflies surrealists' gawking,
Cameras clicking smiling faces pose,
life on the windward side of our island,
come visit a true Paradise like those,
still, the sun light's gods and goddesses tanned.
You remember the mud blood and mosquitos
And the Agent Orange brought back as a memento
In your jungle greens at Vung Tau
Nui Dat memories won’t fade even now
Picked out of the lottery for National Service each one
Taken by the Vung Tau ferry or Qantas your Vietnam service begun
Each soldier on their tour in sacrifice for country
In loyalty to Australia fighting for others to be free
Regulars and National Service in pride you stand
It’s been 50 years and Australia remembers each woman and man
We are proud of these Australians one and all
Who stood tall for us in an unpopular war at our beck and call.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Valentine opened her bakery doors at four.
Two regulars came in for coffee, no more.
What Valentine Magic to you have in store?
I am baking pink and red cakes to take next door.
A sailor arrived at five, carrying an oak oar.
I just left my sweetie by the southern shore.
Do you have any cupcakes? I will buy four.
Valentine had a better idea in store.
Take her a full sized cake with a chocolate core.
I can write on top of it “Be mine forevermore.”
Sailor passed two men coming from St. Van Moore.
Valentine gave them a smile, for they were not poor.
They bought out most of her goods, that day in the store.
Even the ingredients of flour, sugar, salt, butter and more.
Their plan worked, and they took her to St Van Moore
Where their brother waited for Valentine, whom he did adore.
we trim their hair, necks, noses, and mustaches too
They come on Saturday morning, when the mail is due
we hear their stories, they gossip about their farms and such
we like our regulars, and we hear so much!
only one gives us a tip we try to get him
Although this seems a light-weight mystery,
This was a code word of war history;
Resembling, as though words romantic-thrilled,
Volumes these words spoke of fear, frantic-filled...!
It's like the radar of war times present,
Two lanterns if by seas the foes are sent;
Bells of the church must peal once if by land,
Or twice if the 'regulars' through seas stand...!
Revere rode from Boston to Lexington,
He proved, like a fox very vexing one;
The enmity that roamed like a monsoon,
Broke out like a premature child born soon...!
Winning or losing, like day and night, goes,
Man's or woman's strength, like the moon, truth shows;
The phrase short; freedom won; Wow! Longfellow!
How charmingly have you depicted this show...!!!
Something, as though divine revelation,
Had dawned American liberation;
History, mystery, poetry mix,
From blistery great liberty did fix...!
20 January 2023
Jenna’s Saloon on Soup Creek
Tania, Deb, Kim, Constance, Belle
Darlene, Connie, Paula as well
Work for Jenna in her saloon
Waiting on tables in fine tune.
Singing as customers are served
All things abnormal are observed
The gals listen to what goes on
Reporting all to Mayor Tom.
The saloon’s a place to relax
Where the regulars meet and chat
With plenty to drink and to eat
A night at Jenna’s is a treat.
Sheriff Koplin, David the Ranger
They watch over any stranger
Who is maybe looking for loot
Or someone they may wish to shoot.
Onto trouble, sharp as a knife
Is gambler Milton, faster than light
Deputy sheriff Michael Tor
And Prospector Pete on his horse.
Of Blacksmith Rees rogues be aware
He's got ultra hot furnace where
They'll find themselves burnt if they dare
Bestow folk mischief or despair.
But hey ho when the day is done
Everyone is out to have fun
Laughter, singing, it’s never bleak
At Jenna’s saloon on Soup Creek.
*+*+*
1st September 2022
Each morning she goes to the cafe
Arrives 10am on the dot
Orders the same every morning
Lemon slice and English Breakfast in a pot
The staff are friendly and greet her by name
They all know the lovely old dear
She has been going there every day
Each morning for the past four years
She loves watching the comings and goings
Of the vibrant bustling cafe
Occasionally exchanging pleasantries
With other regulars she sees each day
She lost her husband five years ago
Kindred spirits married forever and a day
Her children now lived far and wide
Visit when they can get away
She always stays at the cafe for an hour
Before she wanders slowly home
To a her empty house full of memories
Silently awaiting tomorrow morning …all alone!
The playground hadn’t opened;
The sun had yet to rise
And many might think walking
In the dark would not be wise.
A mist hung by the river,
A tugboat pulled a barge;
The cars inched down the F.D.R.,
Their headlights looming large.
The puddles, partly hidden,
Glinted dully in the gloom,
Soon to saturate some sneakers
Not expecting them to loom.
It was magic to be walking;
The few others I did see
Were the regulars who love
Their early exercise, like me.
I am Sheberra, the Ruler of Christmas Town of Swiss Miss lore.
Overlooking the decorating that will begin at six minutes past four.
My subjects are getting off work early to begin satisfying me.
Some of the suck-ups may begin as early as a quarter past three.
It is two forty-six now, so I am high on my queen’s view ledge.
I can see some of the spies hiding under bridges; one is under a hedge
Christmas Town will be beautiful decorated to its height by tonight.
It will be a gorgeous, awesome, curiously terrific bright sight.
Some of my subjects will climb up here trying to coax me down.
They are not my regulars, rather new to merry ole’ Christmas Town.
The ones who know me, have already left gifts at my door.
Salmon sandwiches, tuna casserole, catfish cotton candy and more.
I will be haughty and dainty, and let them wonder and think.
My husband knows me better, I shall give him a wink.
We will be the Santa and Queen Sheberra of Christmas Town.
I can smell those delectable dishes calling, so now I climb down.
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