Poet Laureate John Betjeman
a versified-bio fan
In 'Summoned by Bell'
his lyrical story did tell
Categories:
versified, people, poetry,
Form: Clerihew
Note:
Jennifer, I hope your birthday (28 August) was sweet and special, dear friend. You have given so much to Poetry Soup and the poets therein. Written lovingly in emulation of your inimitable style.
Wouldn't it be heaven:
to be
set free
from every
boundary
from time and gravity
from crime and war
and hatred we abhor
see the loved ones we knew before
To float in streams
and fly in dreams
to be free from fear
see colors so clear
and have new ones appear
Soaring like birds
on wings of words
nature's draught imbibed
lovingly described
a trek over stream and dale
tell a versified tale
Sharing our feasts
with birds and beasts
no conflict or strife
a non-violent life
enveloped in the peace we dream of
these three remain: faith, hope, love
Hearing trumpets resound
children's laughter abound
to be absolved of all sin
free of dark thoughts within
to reunite with those we have missed
as we dance in the heavenly mist
the undying goal
of the undying soul
to walk with God
on heaven's sod
to know traquility
for eternity
Categories:
versified, birthday, heaven,
Form: Free verse
Soon after I'd paid
My sixty
Or seventy pence,
I found myself
In what I thought
Was a miniature London.
I saw girls
In chandelier earrings,
In stiletto heels,
Wearing evening
Dresses,
Which contrasted with
The bizarre
Hair colours
They favoured:
Jet black
Or bleach blonde,
With flashes of
Red, Purple
Or green.
Some wore large
Bow ties,
Others unceremoniously
Hanged
Their school ties
Round their
Necks.
Eye make-up
Was exaggerated.
The boys all had
Short hair,
Wore mohair sweaters,
Thin ties,
Baggy,
Peg-top trousers
And winklepicker shoes.
A band playing
Raw street rock
At a frantic speed
Came to a sudden,
Violent climax...
Melodic, rhythmic,
Highly dancable
Soul music
Was now beginning
To fill the hall,
With another group
Of short-haired youths...
Smoother, more elegant,
Less menacing
Than the previous ones.
These well-dressed
Street boys
Wore well-pressed pegs
Of red or blue...
They pirouetted
And posed...
Pirouetted and posed.
"Wicked Cahoots" and "The Woodville Hall Soul Boys" stem from stories written in the late 1970s; while they first saw the light of day in versified form in 2006.)
Categories:
versified, dance, england, fashion, youth,
Form: Free verse
What I want to write
Is still an odd mystery
The more I write words
The more I have quarry
With every new verse
I feel I will be satisfied
But the thirst increases
As thoughts are versified
I want to compose views
That are never revealed
Yet all the clouds gather
Thoughts are entangled
What is all this thirst for
I don’t know definitely
I feel there is something
Into the deep of eternity
Categories:
versified, confusion, crazy, imagery, philosophy,
Form: Lyric
Today, as I languish in intense intellection,
Recalling the former assigned to my course.
Questioning why this versified collection,
But knowing they arrived by a vital force.
Each imparted entities to my well being,
perhaps, on occasion, an unbiased voice.
Embedding ideas when not clearly seeing,
Then leaving me to contemplate my choice.
Some tracks were left profoundly inscribed,
That the fourth dimension stole not away.
This retention came as a tonic prescribed,
Propelling me toward a more opportune day;
Categories:
versified, people,
Form: Lyric
In
A4
sits my world,
like
brave souls,
enjoying
clue-
less life:
its rugged
...glimpses and sensations;
oh,
let me
be here, not
for
awhile,
but, till I
last,
dancing
free, in a
...versified reverie!
Categories:
versified, art, imagination, life, people,
Form: Lyric
Through the beauty of words,
an unsuspecting poet unleashed his passion,
instilling it into my brain.
His in un-familiar form, written flawlessly, so sweet they say.
Oh, do not hungry nor tease me with your musing,
for my stomach surely can’t wait
to peek through the youth of your life
Do not ask
what my heart can do, once young,
but now complicated and ageing on my favorite pillow.
Nor seek the truth, inside me, wandering not from my ways.
Do you see in my face the youthfulness, once I had,
now hidden for eternity behind this frail skin,
and clothed by this grayed beards of my yesteryears?
A great rhymer,
sometimes a free-verser,
so many years ago, versified the Earth.
Not of salt, but by his wondrous soul, tinged with crackling hues of fall.
O you, who de-versify me
do I see thy quill rhyme?
Then bother not thy self to ask about my sonnet.
Categories:
versified, life, on writing and
Form: Free verse
When he made
his first personal appearance
in the dirty alley
on someone else's rusty bike,
screaming along
in a cloud of dust
it rendered us all
speechless and motionless.
But I was amazed
that despite his grey-faced surliness,
he was very affable with us...
the bully with a naive
and sentimental heart.
He was so happy
to hear that I liked his dad
or that my mum liked him
and he was welcome
to come to tea
with us at five twenty five...
Our "adventures" were spectacular:
chasing after other bikesters,
screaming at the top
of our lungs
into blocks of flats
and then running
as our echoed waves of terror
blended with incoherent threats...
"I'll call the Police, I'll..."
Wicked cahoots.
("Wicked Cahoots" and "The Woodville Hall Soul Boys" stem from stories written in the late 1970s; while they first saw the light of day in versified form in 2006.)
Categories:
versified, childhood, children, london, memory,
Form: Free verse