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Tim Parry Poem
The Soul-train was leaving the station,
Believers were gathered on board.
Their hands were all reaching for heaven,
And happily praising the lord.
But someone was left on the platform,
A ticket-stub fell from his hands.
He waved as the train was departing,
As Jesus said strike up the band.
The train rolled from station to station,
A star-man looked down from above.
Some Hindus were busy complaining,
That one God is never enough.
The clairvoyant spoke in a whisper,
This supper it may be my last.
A methodist minister kissed her,
And said you're a pain in the arse.
The passengers drunk with excitement,
Were having a whale of a time.
Cajoling and laughing and singing,
While guzzling down gallons of wine.
The Muslims were barracking bishops,
The party was hitting its stride.
A Cardinal minced with the choir,
Who just came along for the ride.
While paupers were wedged in the gangways,
With other unfortunate souls.
Their betters had cosy appartments,
All furnished in leather and gold.
The train climbed the stairway to heaven,
Agnostics all cheered from below.
St Peter was holding a sermon,
And God was the star of the show.
The clamour rose to a crescendo,
With rumours that God would appear.
The Pope stuck his head out the window,
And said I believe that he's here.
The saints held the hands of the sinners,
While Gabriel was singing above.
The train lurched across the horizon,
Then crashed in the tunnel of love.
The pearly gates took such a beating,
Reporters descended in droves.
The wreckage was charred and disfigured,
As heaven began to explode.
Old newspapers scattered in Eden,
Said one day somebody will pay.
While British rail made an announcement,
To say that the train's been delayed.
Copyright © Tim Parry | Year Posted 2018
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Tim Parry Poem
It has been told that every soul's completely intertwined
For every person that arrives another's left behind,
What words have I to conjure up to speak of said demise
I offer this my poem as a willing sacrifice.
I'll mention not the platitudes I love to contravene
But speak instead of beauty and such wonders I have seen,
That warmth within,the birth of spring,mad laughter and sweet tears
And loving hearts of happiness that touched me through the years.
A magic kiss each poem is a field the writer ploughs
The beauty of each seed is hidden deep inside the shell,
But harvest time is over and the autumn leaves have flown
And words are standing naked now without their chaperone.
My last goodbye the end is nigh I'll leave without a sound
Then Time will hide as fate decides to bring the curtain down,
My muse was led but now instead will whisper words no more
The cast bereft the writer's left to walk the endless shore.
Tomorrow paints the canvas as another day is born
We're clouds that line the endless sky that heaven may adorn
Or countless specks of golden light inside the stratosphere
Once shining bright we fade from sight.......and simply disappear.
Copyright © Tim Parry | Year Posted 2018
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Tim Parry Poem
His German relations would turn in their graves
This great gnome abduction is causing shock waves,
It reads like the spy who came in from the cold
They've held him to ransom and broken the mould.
The world's now his oyster from Heathrow he flew
To sample the good life and drink in the view,
While stood in the gutter he eyes up the stars
Then drowns in the cocktails and drinks in the bars
Seville brings a bullfight his seat is secured
He's visiting places no gnome could afford,
A short trip to France on this whistle stop tour
The thing that a hostage is forced to endure.
The Can-Can performance he couldn't believe
An Eiffel of Paris is what he perceived,
A fast train to Berlin his ancestral home
The Frankfurter sausage and birthplace of gnomes.
Old relatives waved from the Brandenburg gate
The beer was delicious the weather was great,
A long haul to Moscow he slept in a sack
His beard was quite grimy the varnish was cracked.
He paused by the Kremlin with shots to send home
But suddenly felt that he wasn't alone,
Both he and his escorts were marched to the plane
And warned that they'd better not come back again.
In China large warriors stood by his side
Hand built in a kiln and then buried alive,
He's third one across and two rows from the back
With the rod and the boots and the beard and the hat.
His essence they caught like a star on the screen
As he stood on the wall in his tunic of green,
He travelled for what seemed a year and a day
To land in the lovely old U, S, of A.
Arriving in Vegas he shone on the strip
With a gaggle of girls and a mountain of chips,
Was tied up by Teller, Penn looked so amused
They made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
With a glint in his eye and to Tellers delight
Penn whispered a word and he varnished from sight,
To arrive with a flash by his old garden gate
Near his house that he left on his council estate.
On the fridge fading pictures still clearly recall
Adventures that may not have happened at all,
I'd wager a bet that he'd still love to explore
That gnome in the tunic asleep by the door.
Copyright © Tim Parry | Year Posted 2018
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Tim Parry Poem
In this age of 'Instant Karma' happiness is turned away,
'All you need is love' to guide you well at least that's what they say,
'In my life' I've witnessed miracles the ghost of 'Yesterday',
When a certain 'Sgt Pepper' tried to teach the band to play.
Back then 'Lucy' wore her diamonds to the big top on the green,
With her uncle 'Mr Mustard' who was tight and very mean,
Next to them was 'Mother Mary', 'Sister Pam' and 'Mr Kite',
And a psychopath called 'Maxwell who was hidden out of sight.
'Rita' made it in the city said 'Tomorrow never knows',
Made a deal with 'Doctor Robert' who was struck off years ago,
Sent a message to the 'Taxman' saying that he shouldn't come,
While the 'Nowhere Man' was chanting 'Come together' everyone.
Down in 'Strawberry Fields' they're singing and they're sing forever more,
'Rocky Racoon's' busy selling Gideon's bibles door to door,
'Jo-jo's' busy rolling reefers for the roadies in the band,
Thought 'Loretta' was a woman but she was another man.
The sixties have now vanished 'Egg-men' are no longer found,
'Sexy Sadie's' on a hillside on the other side of town,
'Bill' has married his 'Dear Prudence' brought themselves a bungalow,
Now they're playing Beatles records they brought 'All those years ago'.
Can't imagine all the hardships poor Ms Rigby' would endure,
Lived a lonely sad existence had a death so immature,
'Michelle' gently placed the 'Flowers in the dirt' and quoted Paul,
Saying that he won't forget her when his 'Memory's almost full'.
'Molly's' still with pretty 'Desmond' sharing all her jewels and clothes,
'Desmond' has a host of bookings now transgender is in vogue,
Poor 'McKenzie's' lost his calling they defrocked him in the spring,
What a joy and what a blessing to hear all the Beatles sing
Copyright © Tim Parry | Year Posted 2018
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