It started off as a domestic
Nothing new in that
With one word borrowing another
The usual case of tit for tat
Men are not so well versed with verbals
While their better halves have words to burn
Yet her sharp and stinging words
No headway were making to take him down
Until she threw in the dynamite ,"You're driving me mad!"
An opportunity he should have done better to resist
Fool that he was ,he just could not let his flippant riposte
Be missed
And out it came, "It's just a short drive."
His convalescence is going well
the gurgling of the stream - pause and listen to its waters
a river flowing
smoothing over every stone
with a timeless care
The stream quietly burbles,
Os and Ls and other verbals.
Swishing along on its way,
Carrying fish in its vocal play.
5/29/23
It’s Jubilee tea at my auntie’s care home
Aunt Phyllis’s hair could do with a comb
But she doesn’t mind and puts on her hat
The queen won’t be there’s no need to flap
The table is laden with all sorts of food
Ada burps loudly she’s so blinking rude
The cucumber sandwich crusts are cut off
My hair won’t stay curly I hear Mable scoff!
Gerald’s secreted cream scones on his lap
I’d not touch them now he’s a dirty old chap
There’s a heated debate is it scone or scon
I do not comment as they have all gone!
Old Edgar demands jelly and ice cream
It’s not on the menu he begins to scream
So he gets everyone to bang their tea cups
They’re acting like kids and not like grown ups
Along comes the matron she says ‘Dearie me,
You are spoiling our Platinum jubilee tea’
Edgar gives her some lip - he’s adept at verbals
He shout’s ‘Matron you just remind me of Goebbels’
Matron is livid, she turns puce in the face
Edgar’s sent to his room, as he’s in disgrace
He is reprimanded for causing such a scene
At the jubilee party for our wonderful Queen.
06/02/22
A
sonnet
slumber here
with high hawking
and I probe for names, verbals, and concepts.
Written: February 11, 2022
A Tetractys poem is a form of poetry consisting of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (a total of 20)
Curse of the Poet
Some will have our work
Some will hate it
Others will be dazzled
While some will feel baffled
We can do everything through words
Still it is hard for us to say verbals
I can say I love you on paper
But in public I simply smile or give a hug
Possibly both
Why do I not tell you my feelings?
Because I am afraid you will leave me…
Then I will be alone
Curse of the poet
The echo of the echo
In the minds of you and I,
It tells our lips to tell it,
It flies to make us fly.
The glory of the glory
That enrings our eyes like spring,
It lifts us in its vision
To wing and dance and sing.
The echo of the echo
Then replays again, remains,
Reverberating verbals
That rain and kiss and reign.
The glory of the glory
That is me and you, and we,
It soars in every story
That leaps into "agree"!
It dances up the hollows
Of our lungs and mouths and arms
Till world in world is whirled
And charms are meeting charms.
It touches lips with brushes,
Becomes a firmer sum;
Our inner lust of winning
Is one and whole and won.
The echo of the echo,
Oh, it will not die or go,
But ever be an echo
To show, and tell, and show.