My name doesn’t tell if I’ve got
Some meaningly posh coat of arms
I didn’t contribute to national lot
But maybe I did for the arts
I don’t criticize politicians
It must be the easiest job
Yet I never praise politicians
For this is a job of a yob
So I’m a bit jobless you see
Hope you can guess that I am
An artist of air and the sea
A painter of skies and the land
This doesn’t imply that I stand for
The land that I thouroughly see
Political people can love it much more
With pleasure I gladly concede
I’m not patriotic since childhood
I haven’t changed in this regard
But this doesn’t mean that I would
Deem jingoes as utter retards
Some folks are ok being homebound
Some other prefer rock and roll
And some will keep silent about it
I’ve equal respect for them all
To meet me you will not regret
My broad-minded soul plays no game
You’d think of me:”haven’t we met?
But I can’t remember his name”.
Categories:
yob, humorous, philosophy, political,
Form: Rhyme
You sat still at Miss Binnington’s
No swinging legs or kicking feet
Back pressed against chair back
Bottom firmly held to chair seat.
Children seen but not heard
A rule very seldom broken
Only in reply could
Any word be spoken.
The starched table cloth
Pristine white and clean
Ironed and smooth with
Not a wrinkle to be seen.
Cake stand with its little cakes
Placed precisely in the centre
A reverent hush prevailed as we
Waited for Miss Binnington to enter,
Bearing tea in China cups
Delicate and thin
Really the only way then
To serve tea in.
A little decorum followed
Until she quietly departed
And then, only then, was
Our afternoon tea started.
Eat as silently as you could
As delicately as you were able
Only an uncultured yob dare
Put his elbows on the table.
Seventy years and more years ago
Miss Binnington’s now long gone
A more crazy and frenetic world
As the century rolled quietly on.
Children these enlightened days
No longer sit silent and in awe -
Good manners and respect
Don’t seem to matter anymore.
Some times things change
A little more than they maybe ought to
I think sometimes we now
Throw out both baby and bath water.
Categories:
yob, childhood, memory,
Form: Rhyme
Wildlife 36
A snowy white swanish young cob
Was considered a bit of a yob
He was so full of zest
He fell out of the nest
And his sister said "you're such a knob!"
Categories:
yob, bird, funny,
Form: Limerick
abandoned because I got a man banned
through responding to his grotesque brand
of uncanny comments insulting and bland
label me a yob because of ground I stand
standing up to a problem is just that standing up
it's not a descending spiral down to their level
it's a man prepared to stop their unjust corrupt
seeking blissful peace yet a yob you label
yet had this yob done as you do with ignorance
wouldn't you wake up somedays to be upset
by nasty comments knocking self assurance
and left unnecessarily whilst hard to forget
you watched a war and judge those at play
did you not stop and think it could have come your way
whilst you condemn and say what you say
you watched from a peace, a peace you still have today
Categories:
yob, poets,
Form: Rhyme
REVERSE WORD POETRY
To use the vernacular, god!',
my friend shouts at a yob.
He's not alone he has his dog,
the yob was his young boy.
Friend Dave was setting up a trap,
we were out on the moor.
Trapping, no, I did not take part,
I left, gave him some room!
Categories:
yob, father son, friend, poems,
Form: I do not know?
Only we know...
The stranger did not start the fight today.
New man in town, come looking for a job,
he prayed for God to take the gang away.
He’d find some digs, a place to plan and stay,
but found himself confronted by the mob.
The stranger did not start the fight today.
Demanding cash and cards they barred his way.
When blows were thrown by devil-snarling yob
he prayed for God to take the gang away.
They classed him as a thing that they could slay
in mindless hate, a cur to beat and rob.
The stranger did not start the fight today.
Their feet and fists flew frenzied in the fray.
In fear he fought and felled a drunken slob.
He prayed for God to take the gang away.
Now, left alone with corpse as cold as clay,
a figure kneels, still choking on a sob.
The stranger did not start the fight today.
He prayed for God to take the gang away.
Categories:
yob, anti bullying,
Form: Villanelle
Shadow
From vantage morning of my dreams;
I counted my length of days,
Heretofore on earth, rooted the strength of manly yob,
In pursuance of transient dreams,
The ebbing shadows spur
The Everest i would scales,
To amass the fortune i must astride;
And battles the armoured Goliaths to victory,
Bestowed by kings and lords, in golden palaces,
Medals of Emeralds and adorable princess;
And a crown with minaret of peacock feathers,
Basking in prideful bondage,
But at the drowsy dusk of my realism;
Dreams are made in heaven,
Creeping shadows are made of void,
Void is nothingness.
Categories:
yob, fantasy
Form: Free verse