Two faces; two juxtaposed deportments; two qualities;
On one hand, past pains; on the other, future jollities
Janus, the Roman god of progress and dualities
Dwells with keys of the door, gate, and threshold formalities
I have it. Each one has. One is true. The other is false.
Safe like love and hope; heard-earned treasure-like brings many walts
Springing like hemlocks from mental mud insecurities
Brings manipulative and deceptive impurities.
Trust erodes; communion corrodes; inner turmoil is born.
With anger, fear, and sadness, equilibrium is torn.
Vocation is jeopardized; calm communion is curtailed;
Energy and synergy quirks and smirks are veiled and failed.
Confidence, compassion, and creativity are must.
Together with honesty, loyalty, love, hope, and trust
Learning from the past and flourishing into the future
And living and letting live be our monistic nature
Categories:
walts, body, heart, people,
Form: Rhyme
All the soldiers stood proudly gleaming white,
For years they all were smiling bright,
Then one by one off they went to fight.
One by one by the enemy they were got,
And one by one they fell to toffee rot.
Sometimes it was by sheer neglect
Sometimes the cause was a fight.
Sometimes they took a good kicking,
But they sure did take some licking.
They carried on regardless as good soldiers do,
The years took toll yet some still rallied through.
For three score and ten the battle it did rage,
The enemy every one they did engage.
Both North and South they all stood tall.
Until finally the last rank they did fall,
The empty graves of the fallen saw with much dismay,
The final rank, with a simple yank, went sadly to the tray.
Now the barracks are all empty,
The guardroom it is closed.
Those brave and Pearly Sappers,
Will never again be snappers.
No plastic troops will take their place,
No walts or wannabees in that space
An empty cave will be their grave,
They served me well, all of them were smashers.
Now they're gone, I'll miss my lovely gnashers.
© Dave Timperley 20 May 2017
Categories:
walts, fun,
Form: Rhyme
so there no broken bone
or other part torn
when there wet snow
tho its a show
it willbe ices
slicker as rice
so there's no walts
get some
SNOW SALT
Categories:
walts, art, seasons,
Form: Light Verse
I'm the worst dancer,
this is not my calling,
i have two left feet,
so i'm always falling!
I trip and stumble,
looking like a fool,
everyone else gets it,
they just look so cool.
I tried the tango,
and broke someones toe,
don't even ask about ballet!
that was quite a show.
Broke my leg moon-walking,
twisted my wrist doing cheer,
sprained my neck with the walts,
dancing has become my fear!
But still I love it,
this dangerous fun,
but its not my calling,
so now i'm done!
Categories:
walts, funny,
Form: Rhyme