The thought of cleansing
Sedately conditions
Time for a pure and clean heart
Cleanliness leads to Godliness
Mr. Clean attended church
Listened to the preaching words
Every biblical word crossing Mr. Cleans mind
Being very tall, but height is not a requirement in Faith and God’s house
Time was ticking and tomorrow is not promised to anyone
Mr. Clean right there wanted to turn his life around, and went up to the altar call
He wanted his life to be showers of purity
Being a clean disinfectant
Serious Faith to live walking on Earth
Mr. Clean wanted his life to have a new birth.
In a world fraught with hatred, war and bloodshed
Mankind thirsts for abiding peace and calm
In love and harmony when we live, it’s heaven on earth.
Life may be harsh, yet be merciful, it acts as a balm.
Understand others especially the ones neglected.
Let love sedately flow like a gentle river,
Smoothing the sharp pebbles of hatred lying below.
Show mercy to fellowmen, holding them in prayer.
Let peace, love, understanding and mercy fill hearts with delight.
And bask in God’s infinite love’s cascading rays of light.
Beneath the amber dawn and autumn hues,
a cabin hides where forest touches shore;
its chimney breathes a puff of whitish blue
a sign of warmth behind its worn wood door.
The lake reflects the calm of autumn’s sphere,
as early morning mist hangs in the air;
and ripples, echoing the fading year,
sedately disappear as if not there.
Within the timbered walls a peace resides,
a place to gather thoughts as seasons wane;
I reminisce the dreams my mind confides
and pen the moments of my life’s refrain.
So let me dwell where autumn’s breath is slow
and write the rhymes no summer song could know.
October 21, 2025
My Bicycle of Imagination
The day and I are hand in hand,
brimming with a zippety-whippity-do.
I sit atop my saddle, my bicycle, my hill;
the morning mist is ragged like candy floss
on barbed wire, waggled fences.
Below a liquorice-tarmacked road
elbows through a mosaicked landscape;
churned fields sitting either side,
serrated into channels of earth;
suited and rooted in browned corduroy.
Then further on and along,
the sky sits sedately on the sea,
resting on a blue, rippled settee,
just out of close reach
of a mustard scarf of a beach.
Clouds rear - wild, white stallions;
they settle, then away at a gallop,
racing, chasing the prize in
the finishing line, the horizon.
Watch out, speedy swallow,
now, it’s my time to follow!!
I sense my bicycle’s stalled frustration,
so my body engine sets it free;
muscles tighten, pedals spin,
it’s time to fly, time to check in.
Off we go…wind pushing at my heels,
sunlight splashing off the wheels
down I swoop, a dance of balance;
the bike glides, the road slides.
Watch me come, watch me go
connecting, perfecting with nature’s flow;
sky, land and sea…………WEEEEEEEEEEE!
After flaunting her wares and dazzling our eyes
Her energy ebbing ,motivation low
It should come to us as no surprise
That her colours fade to no linger glow
She does now sedately and sombrely dress
Though it still being in her nature to tease
With the whispering wind she conspires to impress
Her onlookers as she strips to please
This seasonally haunting dance of the seven veils
With her fluttering leaves of russet ,brown and gold
Amid the showers of which us she richly hails
Shows that she does not fear being so bold
Autumn even with her loss of lively chirping
Displays a beauty than summer no less gripping
I could have danced all night!
We would have been a sight!
Rocking in the rocking chair room.
Across the room,
Almost out the door,
Keep on rocking,
There's always more!
As we sat in the rocking chair room.
No one knows the fun it is,
To sneak out at noon,
And spend an hour in the rocking chair room.
The women that watch us are out of sight,
Gone to lunch for a bite.
No one is near us,
In the rocking chair room.
Now we are sedately settling down.
The women who watch us,
Are all back from town.
For me you’re designed, mesmeric scarred moon,
grace gleams in the convolute cradle of cyan night,
slithers in the silken sky I create for you,
a turquoise trail you trace in my heart incised.
Thunder cloud surges from the edge of stained night,
the debris of the splintered sky swathes me.
You retreat in the glare of anguish lightning,
searing the slivers of my fissured essence.
I travel in the tempest of strife,
serenade the broken notes of an unsung song,
in sync with the symphony of flawed passion,
making untuned melody in the snapped string of memory.
In the blemished visage of the veiled sun,
I paint on the scraped sensual canvas
your frail face with fragmentary fervor,
sedately smiling eyes sparkle my deranged dream.
On the charismatic canvas cracked,
my failing longing lingers in your effervescent eyes.
Etched in the invented lattice of patterned splendor,
your unsplit smile shimmers unspoilt.
The blades of grass, a sea of green
They calm the day and set the scene
The world around me seems to slow
Sedately into grass I go
So in the grass, I lay my head
And daisies like a featherbed
Dancing lightly upon my skin
Thoughts so tranquil with taction thin
A breeze comes by and rustles through
As blades of grass construct a clue
To show the world is still alive
As nature’s rhythm will arrive
And in the grass, I find my peace
With nature's song, a sweet release
The worries of the world depart
Both in the grass and in my heart
Tea with Gran,her muffins supreme,
Bath and change and hair brylcreamed.
into town to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there.
Checking the football scores
in the Oxford 'green un'.
Trad jazz with Donegan,Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom bacchanalia.
Skip,hip-hop or jive or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
A swift half of cider in the Bodega bar
sadlynone of us could afford a car.
Dropping a shilling in the snug juke
box,Haley and Elvis,then unorthodox.
Bought tickets for the coming live shows,
Cochrane,Cliff and Shadows.
Later, at the dance the last waltz about
to begin,if you were fancied ,it
showed in her coy grin.
Requesting a date took a little courage,
so glad my choice that day,led
to marriage.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
You were the mesmeric moon for me,
gleaming in the cradle of the argentine night,
slithered in the silken sky I called mine,
a turquoise trail you traced in my heart.
Thunder clouds surged from the edge of night,
the debris of the splintered sky swathed me.
I saw you retreat through the glare of anguish lightning,
searing the strewn fragments of my cracked heart.
In the resplendent hours of the rising sun,
I painted with fervent fervor,
on the blank canvas of my mind, your flushing face,
sedately smiling, the eyes sparkling with my dream.
I travelled through the tempest of tough times,
that destroyed everything I made,
but arose from the ruins, retrieved the painting
from the recess of the mangled memory.
Your unsplit smile was saved with all its splendor,
my yearning shined in your eyes as ever,
devoid of ravaging sign the stroke of time inflicts,
although I found the canvas cracked.
_______________
March 6, 2023
Contest : Cracked
Sponsored by : Anthony Biaanco
o beau papillon
~ o beautiful butterfly,
Have you whilom explored the inselberg,
To descry its allure,
And its rillets surge,
To see the coruscating sun,
And the meadows hushed afar,
The zephyr whisking leisurely,
Or the bodach with his old guitar,
Have you at all espy the sapphire sky,
And the clouds that move sedately,
Peered inside the fathomless dale,
And discovered the linn falling indistinctly,
O beautiful butterfly,
Have you at all seen the winsome nature,
And felt totally satisfied,
To realise that life is just an unforeseen adventure.
She mourns the lost of her happiness.
She regrets the day her eyes saw him.
Staying all her days in tears and pain.
She dances to the sound of her heart beats.
Sedately does her heartbeat and cry for help.
Seeking joy which has been stolen.
Sardonically does her name sounds in the ear of other.
Seldom does she have a sleep.
She is lost in the wood,
South has become north.
Sleep has become a gold dash for her.
Sable has her heart become when his name is call.
Sadly, her joy has been buried by her decision.
Swimming in pool full of her tears cause by her agony.
Sitting in the chair of uncertainty.
Sharing love has put her in the bad of loneliness.
Woman, greedy woman
Have your way
Call me your king
Whilst I remain your slave
And say my darling shall so come
And no quandaries shall remain
Not even my mothers' pest
Soon from the world corners
Would many come adorned in chosen laces
With rhyming threads and patterns
All and sundry shall converge
To Grace my very feast
Let tunic brews and palm wine dance
All to congratulate me at a glance
I shall be gaily dressed
And so have a union blessed
Those were your words
When sedately love was thriving
But woman have you no eyes
To unearth my persisting woes
I can't make a paltry meal
Nor have your tongue forever fed
So shall we proceed?
If this feast shall embellish your being
Or have a lifeless love engendered
Or bring prosperity, till my greed align with yours
My puppy is ridiculously excited and exuberant every day.
Wiggling and jiggling with enthusiasm, always ready to play.
Today he is sedately sitting calmly with a butterfly on his nose.
Perfectly still for an odd reason. Do you suppose?
Is he evolved enough to be spiritually aware?
Maybe because he stayed motionless until the monarch was in the air.
hair brylcreamed.
into town
to the pub in the square,
our gang always met there
trad jazz with Donegan,
Bilk or Collier
or maybe the ballroom for
bacchanalia
skip,hip-hop or jive
or more sedately
to the Friday Five.
a swift half of cider
in the Bodega bar
sadly none of us then
could afford a car.
dropping a shilling
.. in the snug juke box
Haley and Elvis,then
so unorthodox.
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