There’s fish and chips on the table
It’s lovely and all piping hot
Sauce and vinegar was in bottles
Salt and pepper each in its pot.
Now it’s laid out on the table
Driving me more and more to despair
It’s in individual little sachets
And some of them won’t tear.
My fish and chips lie uneaten
And they’re rapidly losing heat
Without a splash of vinegar
Their taste just isn’t complete.
Stuff just poured out of bottles
Didn’t give me the despair
Of wrestling with plastic satchels
That just won’t bloody tear
There’s designers and designers
Each in a field of their own
And I’m sorry if I’m grumpy
And ever ready to have a moan
But there is this little saw
That’s Quite frequently spoken
Just don’t try and fix a thing
If the original ain’t broken.
Categories:
satchels, angst, humor,
Form: Rhyme
She might be a hoarder we guessed that day.
When she came gliding by what else could we say?
Attached to her somewhere was a plethora of stuff.
Books, gifts, purses, pouches, satchels all rough.
Her elaborate vest had been constructed from ties.
There must be a seamstress in her life said McDyes.
I bet her house is horrible, said his cousin, Ms. Farr.
I doubt it I told her, she lives in her car.
Categories:
satchels, irony,
Form: Rhyme
Five stones
school caps
pooh sticks
film flicks
short back
and sides
mangles
oil cloth
braces
plimsole
dripping
and toast
satchels
school milk
cut-throat
razor
coal fires
and draughts
Categories:
satchels, car, childhood, nostalgia,
Form: Footle
At 60 you hope for another school reunion
of your compatriots'
After all this was your first corporate flagship
(Blazers and satchels)
Grandparents now, some retired
What is more reticent
is some of our teachers have died
but their legend lives on
such full characters
magnificent in their valour
deserving respect
Yet Facebook the great replacer
of friends reunited
cannot illicit enough responses
for a reunion or reaching out for figurines
Categories:
satchels, appreciation,
Form: Free verse
I was pulled out of the school; doomed into hard labor,
To my home, at budding age, I became a life-saver...!
When kids of my age, with stylish satchels, proceed to school,
I, in cracker-workshops noxious, chemicals heat and cool...!
With my tender hands, I shape cute beautiful fire-works,
When I see, you crack them, my wish to do so, within sparks...!
The fumes and toxins I breath, I know, are deadly harmful,
I cannot just shun them, as life toward me is scornful...!
I am squeezed in often, into damp, cramped throttling spaces,
Where, doctors say, children catch incurable diseases...!
My fingers and hands get blisters; they often itch and bleed,
I cry loud within often, who could, my soundless noise, heed...?
When I, owing extreme aches, from mounting duties relax,
Manhandling me, my master, like a galled gory goose, quacks...!
Rules and laws, they say, made for our benefits, are, many,
They remain in books, and for us, never earn a penny...!
I have just one request, to you, dear friend, who's of my age,
When you meet one shabby like me, do not flare-up in rage...!
18 March 2022
Categories:
satchels, child, child abuse, childhood,
Form: Couplet
Five stones
closing times
radiograms and
seventy-eights
school caps
sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks
Charabancs
steam trains
linoleum
oil cloth
mangles
fish paste
sandwich spread
Hot towel shaves
cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
and sides
Wizard beano
and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
road to
Bridget Bardot
Marilyn Monroe
Dripping
coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets
and toast
Brown and mild
barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
and liftup desk lids
times-tabled
school-kids
Draughts
and allotments
rusty bikes
roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
and pence
Categories:
satchels, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme
Five stones closing times
radiograms & seventy-eights
school caps sticklebacks
saturday flicks pooh sticks
Charabancs steam trains
linoleum oil cloth
mangles fish paste sandwich spread
Hot towel shaves cut-throat razor
shopping baskets paper bags
braces, & plimsoles
short back& sides
Wizard Beano & Hotspur
lending libraries &picturegoer
roadfilms Bridget Bardot & Marilyn Monroe
Dripping coal fires
antimacassars
nylons suspenders
crumpets &toast
Brown &mild barrelled beer
conkers
school milk
blackboard rubbers & liftup desk lids
times-tabled school-kids
Draughts & allotments
rusty bikes roller skates
satchels &scrumping
with mates
hence
no
pounds shillings or pence
Categories:
satchels, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme
FORTIES CHILD
Freezing slides
on sheets of ice
Balaclavsa snug
Finger mitts
snow-balling bold,
Playtime in the cold.
Satchels,desks
with lift-up lids
Pen nibs
& inkwells
Five-stones conkers
in the yard
before
the lesson bell
repost from 2007
Categories:
satchels, childhood, memory,
Form: Rhyme
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
standing on the window of my friend’s house,
we let childhood imaginations loose,
fairy tale of gods demons we espouse.
grassland with myriad flowers to choose,
dragonflies, butterflies to play and chase,
Jack farmer’s friendly talking sheep and goose!
our dreams had wings, no reality base,
killed enemy warriors in brave fight,
our weapons were satchels or pencil case!
however night saw the fall of our might,
with darkness crept out our deep inner fear,
close to mother we stayed, hiding our fright!
life was full of love, yet purpose not clear,
good old childhood days will always be dear!
1st placement
Terza Rima Poetry contest
Constance la France
Written 18/11/2020
10 syllables each (PS counter)
rhyme sequence as suggested!
ABA BCB, CDC, DED, EE!
Categories:
satchels, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Terza Rima
So polite. Wearing gloves. And hats. Hair in Easter colors.
Church ladies; prissy, smiling, crackling in their perfumes.
Flowered dresses, sitting primly on the hard wooden pews,
Singing in loud overtones songs they have known for decades.
Smiling at the Easter bonnets, and the tiny white lace gloves
Worn only by them and the toddlers now, everyone else in
Blue jeans, plaids, regular street clothes,
Sunday best no longer applies
Still they come, in their lavender hair, wearing their Bibles
In sheaves and satchels, letting their slips hang a bit in back.
Not as lively as before, but still with sparks they throw the
Way of Old Bill, the only bachelor over eighty, the reason some still come.
Categories:
satchels, christian, easter,
Form: Free verse
Five stones
closing times
radiograms and
seventy-eights
school caps
sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks
Charabancs
steam trains
linoleum
oil cloth
mangles
fish paste
sandwich spread
Hot towel shaves
cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
and sides
Wizard beano
and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
road to
Bridget Bardot
Marilyn Monroe
Dripping
coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets
and toast
Brown and mild
barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
and liftup desk lids
times-tabled
school-kids
Draughts
and allotments
rusty bikes
roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
and pence
Categories:
satchels, childhood, history, nostalgia,
Form: Verse
We paused in the shade
Of the cool, green, cedar tree
Ties flapping in wind
Satchels hung like saddlebags
We raced home like wild horses
Categories:
satchels, brother, child, school,
Form: Tanka
Scarlett thought she was promised permanent security.
Satchels of resilience bound her fragile wrists.
Woodland deities hailed her.
Underworld demons feared her.
The curious townsfolk simply stood in contemplation -
Inviting epee's gleamed in their eyes
as the garden shears, in their hands, smiled.
Scarlett oft pretended she was Joan of Arc.
Threads of meshed titanium webbed her sheltered heart.
Sour Grimm moppets heralded her.
Skeptical fairy godmothers chastised her.
The relentless wheel of innocence spun without interruption.
Persnickety rogues sashayed in dumbed silence -
permitting their sordid counterparts unwelcomed invitations
into a void where reverend satchels are tragically punctured.
Scarlett donned spiked eye patches in her latter years.
Protective velour swatches masking mass and the masses.
Myths and urban legends empathized with her.
Gods and martyrs appropriately buried her.
The dumbfounded spirits circle Scarlett's broken window with raised eyebrows.
Quizzically staring at rotting barrels littered with skeins if shredded satchels -
yards if tainted fibers being hopelessly spun into yet another
dark, forgotten midnight.
Categories:
satchels, irony, sad love,
Form: Free verse
I've toured the world and lived life hard,
Sordid tales I can not hide.
I've logged some miles,they're on my face
And in the baggage by my side.
I've made poor choices in the past.
Tried hard to let memories go.
But sometimes scars don't fade away,
They stay to help you know.
Every day my satchels packed,
Carrying acts that need repentance.
Swinging on the shoulders of my all girl band
The Fabulous Me and The Resentments.
I Carry With Me.... Contest
Categories:
satchels, introspection
Form: Free verse
My grandmother gave me this darkness
of eyes and hair. Our ancestors were gypsies
begging, wide skirts, skittish heels
before the doors to cathedrals.
My grandmother gave me this quivering
chin and sharp nose. Our ancestors were insane.
They emigrated thick satchels over shoulders
to the madhouse. We strapped them into bed.
My mother gave me this sleeplessness
and these delicate hands. Hers were chapped,
the threads hanging in graceful threads
so long she never began, she never ended.
I gave me this mutiny heart.
With your hands on my hair
and eyes just below my lips, I
am only aware of the door.
Categories:
satchels, familyme, grandmother, grandmother, me,
Form: Free verse
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