With a stiff upper lip and old school tie
still it's just not cricket
but the upper crust they say
are on a sticky wicket
to pay the estate or make ends meet
they have conducted tours
of stately homes safari parks
and the family jewels
we used to go to Scarborough Southend-on-Sea
Bognor Brighton Blackpool
have fish 'n' chips for tea
but now for fifty pee we natter
with a Duchess or the Duke
for half a quid a cuppa
with a true blue-blooded bloke
as they're all skint like me and you
there's not a lot a poor Lord can do
but bite the bullet and enjoy
hobnobbing with the hoi polloi
205. She was my dreamer weave, roaming grace in my dreamland
Unbridled a mystic riddle, puzzling befuddling kind
Days are gone by to seek , to beseech, they were
A tide met the will, and we met as wills met beyond verses, unsay-able
To garnish the scar, borrowing Scarborough next to Tucson
Then they foretold they all, the roll the call, all became a clear water in assimilation
Unsung, they sang my song
Unlearned they preached my heart song, in near and far intertwining chime
An invaluable hymn alone, sings there in a croon, nursing clues in my gone a noon, nap time
Eternally the stanza is returning back to the first my soul sings to overcome skeptic a critic
Only you dwell there to hue the twilight clouds, discernible.
fewer …
stars there are
in the heart of heaven
than the myriad ripples of brine that
gently placed me here -
tender tongues of tide that tossed me
and polished my bark away
shaped me smooth from jagged -
turned from beast, to beauty …
courses ago -
I was loosed from a tree
and lost to the sevens in a gale -
sundered from all I’d known
yet …
my journey was ordered
as all things are
made divine not by substance
but by ministration
and singularity …
for the universe, entire,
holds no other creation like me
the countless moments
and patient, boundless energy
that my trek required
would never have been wasted
on the unremarkable …
and though one sojourn has ended
something awaits
that is more infinite, even
than waves …
OR suns …
possibility.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, August 12, 2023
( photo taken 8/1/23 by Gregory R Barden, Ferry Beach, Scarborough, ME )
He saw a gap in the market,
Knew he'd found a niche
Got the idea at Scarborough
From donkey rides on the beach.
Camel treks from Whitby
Going the scenic way
Following the coastal road
On to Robin Hood's Bay.
The very place where, if
Local legend had it right,
Mr Hood and the Vikings
Had a very dirty fight.
He advertised on the Internet
Pretty sure there would be
A plethora of investors
All as Foresighted as he.
He checked his e mail hourly,
Couldn't understand why
After forty three days
Not received a single reply.
He sent the camels back to Qatar
After a very drastic rethink
Then devoted his life to
The Pursuit of strong drink.
You can find him by Donny station
A sight to make you weep
As he rattles his tin can
Begging for his keep.
There's a moral to this story.
Always look for the hitch:
Though better than the alternative,
Life at times can be a bloody .
October the 8th we said our goodbyes .
Im Still left sat here wondering why.
But today I'll come up to your tree.
And think of all the good memories.
How you kissed it better when I got hurt.
How u juggled bringing me up with work.
Holidays to Butlins or Scarborough 10 times
They were some on the best memories of mine.
The selfless sacrifices you always made.
To keep me safe with a smile on my face.
I never gave you the credit you were due.
I hope u know how much I love you.
I sat at your side n gave your head a kiss.
I cried a little but I made you a promise.
That I'd be strong an that I'd do you proud.
I stumbled at first but I'm doing it now.
I wish I could see you for just a few hours.
For some advice or draw some of your power.
I had 39 mothers days with you by my side.
You'd open my naff presents an smile with pride.
Wee 50p ornaments that still sit in place.
Or daffodils I procured from some place.
This one is the toughest cause I just want to say.
I love you mum an one more happy Mothers day
I looked in the paper, and guess what it said?
It read, "Panagiota is dead!
I quick turned on CNN.
News Alert! "Panagiota lost her head!"
Oh, I was more than mad!
So I went to Joe Scarborough on MSNBC.
He reported ever so gleefully..
"There is not,and never will a Panagiota be!
Don Lemon, Mr.Cool, just had a sip of water.
Then, burped and in a velvety, whisper uttered.
"Oh, Panagiota. Yes. She never mattered."
So why this rhyme, you ask?
It's time for the media to take off their masks.
Show themselves for who they are, be given a
check, shown the door and find other tasks.
I have never heard such lies from so many stations.
I can't stop the transfusion of lies drowning all the
nations.
I just know there is a God, to answer to.
And I am glad I am not any of these manipulators.
Their day is coming my friend. They willingly forgot
that God is bigger than any puny station.
And you bet, they will all have to pay one eternal due
in a fiery end.
So be your own best friend.
Be a stand-up person.
There is no glory nor eternal joy in a harangue of baseless
condemnations and allegations.
September 13. 2019
•Humbly Bound Together•
Sitting calm and still, the atmospheres vibrant and warming. I'm not alone, when just the thought of you is so alarming. We're so close, yet we go the farthest, a true desire granted. A guarantee, not a promise, a bed of blood red roses and lush white chocolates. I'm Covered in you, the truth, for this I am honest, my entire body moves when we touch, our kisses are monogamous, bathing in our lust as our love conquers all of it, falling quick! The bright side, the dark side, if it's you I want all of it. Talk to God, So in you I am confident. Love me hard no matter what the problem is, I've been tough so far, who knows if I'll fall again? Play me like Mozart
Keep me in your heart and together we'll be solid.
Written By: Lasean Century.
Of Scarborough Ontario •
The war was finally over,
so Parsley, Sage, Rosemary
and Thyme were all waiting
in anticipation by the clover,
standing in the town square
all dressed up to the nines,
wearing their bodice gowns and
bonnets trimmed with lace and ribbons,
and talking amongst themselves
while looking at the clock tower time,
finally hearing the sound
of trotting horses hoofbeats,
while the soft beating of
their heartbeats steadily increased,
their men in uniforms riding
up and quickly disembarking,
running up to their ladies while
they all cried and hugged one another,
the ladies searching their
brave mens eyes and faces,
looking for signs of war,
signs of scars and anguish,
wondering if their men will
ever be the same,
noticing in their eyes,
the constant look of pain,
slowly walking arm in arm
home with them past the
Yorkshire military war graves,
while they patted their
women's pregnant belly's
in the midst of a spring rain...
My dream has come true,
Today the greatest day of my life,
Turning over the opened sign,
Yes! I thought! It’s my cafe,
My own place!
Right on the busy seaside edge,
Scarborough people love to come,
With beautiful views,
Everything ready!
The menu says!
Sit down! Eat!
Try! Delicious homemade treats!
Roasted chicken!
Yorkshire puddings, and meets!
Vegetables, salads, or quiche,
Chips, mashed or roast potatoes,
Soups and a roll,
Cream and jam scones,
Or different cakes,
Teas and coffee,
As well as healthy options,
Vegetarian types,
At reasonable prices!
Come! Drop in for a meal,
Or just a snack!
We welcome you back,
Family business friendly and polite,
It’s a great meeting place!
Hope you enjoy my food!
Have a good holiday!
Wendy’s !! Opened !! Now !!
04/09/2016
They stopped Scarborough Fair,
And the children went home
Clutching their goldfish bowl.
They'll remember the din,
The shouts and the screams
Plus their colourful win.
Or will name the bright fish,
Put the bowl on a dish,
Or sing soft of Scarborough Fair.
2/15/2015
Gesturing, in the scarborough fair,
Behind the ears, tucking those black and white hair, he shall eat the pain and fight the fear...
The black nails which outgrow from his white hands, lets the people stand and look at his absurdities...
The pain he describes in his absurdity, to the people, he displays his melancholy...
Falls he, breaking down in tears he got through fate, rises he and never speaks, acts sedate.
Paid he is the coins with the rusted brass, for displaying his melancholy, in absurdities...
Laughs he, as the tear slides down till his lips, turns he, wipes his tear as the crowd strips... Smiles he, as he reminiscences his dears, he gets up and dances again, forgetting those tears.
(November, 2013)
It’s mine.
Not the shooting in the bus that killed their brothers.
Not to avenge.
It’s mine.
But I pray that our leader just give it away.
It’s just mine.
The creatures thrive in most waters anyway.
I fear that if these corals are deprived of them
And the fish and the oil and the greens too.
What’ll be left of our poor dwelling if they drop it again?
We don’t have the bombs.
Only crops.
We don’t have missiles.
Only smiles.
Give it to them.
It’s just mine.
Though it’s closer to our shores
It’s good to give anyway.
God says stoop and you’ll be glorified.
Let’s just give and be glorified in the end.
It’s just mine that they want.
We have waters heavenly enough to swim in.
We have fishes delectable enough to feed on.
We may not have enough oil to run our cars
But we have colossal fields to grow our crops
And a giving God.
(inspired by the budding conflict between the Philippines and China on Scarborough Shoal)
(c) 07-27-2012
Now this is a little story of the caravan that rocked
Whether parked in roadside lay-bys, the locals were never shocked
They travelled from the Highlands and motored so far and wide
Exercising their freedom, oh my! that you couldn't hide
They lived just south of Ullapool, and further north than Perth
But no matter where they parked, they always made it worth
Now this couple they liked to journey, to places so far from home
To York, Scarborough and Edinburgh, so capital in their roam
Where ever they went they took in the sights, so beautiful they grace
But every so often their caravan rocked, but never in a windy place
Their holiday nearly over, it's time to head back up the road
Passing places where their caravan rocked, their travelling home abode
They pass such lovely places, like Stirling and Callender
Stopping of at Granton On Spey, their holidays take them afar
Now very close to home, boo! it's work in a couple of days
But they don't mind, for their caravan rocked, without a wind to sway
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-4.php
EVENING FAIR (sing to Scarborough Fair)
Crust of bread and strawberries red
Cheese and wine will go to your head
And when you dance the room becomes magic
Step and whirl at Blithe County Fair
Warm the night with bright crescent Moon
Fiddles three an old Spanish tune
Sweet Greta Lee has captured my fancy
Step and whirl at Blithe County Fair
Youth and Eros moment of bliss
Rose glow her cheeks I offer a kiss
Though so demure she yields to temptation
Found my true love at Blithe County Fair
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