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Denis Barter Apr 2018
A Judge, once noted for his lack of compassion
Found when sentencing crooks, he’d a passion!
When sitting on the Bench, he was permitted -
Appropriate to misdemeanour committed-
To administer punishment to fit the crime!

With his court full of petty crooks that first day -
Thieves, robbers, swindlers! All found to their dismay,
He would show no mercy!  He could not be swayed!
Once declared, their sentence was never stayed!
Though he would allow them to make their plea!

On his first morning, after he opened court,
He would give judgement on each case brought,
Then once proved beyond a shadow of doubt,
He’d carefully mete apt punishment out,
To each prisoner that came into the dock!

First to come ‘up’, was a ‘known’ lawbreaker!
Though a skilled and ‘rising’  craftsman baker
He’d been caught ‘loafing’ with counterfeit ‘dough’!
Evidence was brought. Police ‘kneaded’ to show
The Court, he never did a thing half ‘baked!’

His legs shackled, - which was no surprise,
Was quickly found Guilty, then told to ‘rise’
So this first crook, a very unhappy wretch
Was sent to ‘Leavenworth’ for a long stretch!
Given five years incarceration, for his crime!

A carpenter was the next to be jailed.
Evidence shown was quite ‘plane’!  When ‘nailed’
By the local Cops, they ‘saw’ he had ‘awl’
The loot he’d ‘chiselled’ from a shopping mall.
The Jury  ‘panel saw’ he’d not got it ‘square’!

So it ‘augered’ ill for the carpenter’s fears
When the Judge ‘ruled’,  ‘free board’ for six years!
This cracked the ‘veneer’ he’d worn though the trial.
For prison ‘drill’ would soon wipe away his smile!
Once ‘clamped’ in irons, with others he ‘filed’ away!

The Butcher was next to find himself in a jamb
He’d sold ‘scrag ends’ for ‘prime’ and mutton for lamb!
When the bare ‘bones’ of his case, were fleshed out,
That he was in the ‘soup’, there was no doubt!
While the police asked that he be sent for the ‘chop’!

The Judge declared the punishment he’d ‘meat’ out
Would break the Butcher’s ‘links’ with crime, and had no doubt.
He’d never ‘carve’ his way out of the ‘joint’!
Without ‘mincing’ words, he ‘skewered’ each point
Explaining his ‘beef’.  He was in a proper ‘stew’!

When Police ‘cottoned’ on to a ‘shoddy’ scam
They caught a tailor, ‘embroidering’ a monogram.
‘Patterned’ after that of a famous fashion designer.
Smuggled out in the ‘seam’ of a jacket ‘liner’
This ‘needled’ the Judge, who, with some ‘zip’

And some ‘bias’, ‘felt’ he should practice ‘needlecraft’,
“Stitching’ mailbags for the post office. Hard graft
For a man who had ‘satin’ comfort for a long time.
But ‘fitting’ punishment for a ‘reel’ bad crime!
He praised the  police for ‘buttoning’ up this case!

When Police ‘forked’ over newly ‘dug’ earth
Their ‘spadework’ ‘dug up’ ‘planted’ goods worth
A fortune .  ‘Raking’ through the ‘compost heap’.
‘Embedded’ by a gardener, were, buried deep,
‘Silver Bells’ and a gold chain! This ‘chain, linked’

‘Fences’ to crooks who stole goods on demand.
He’d ‘staked’ all on being put on remand.
But the Judge said I ‘dig’ your kind! ‘Turn over’
A new ‘leaf.  Mould’ and mend your ways.  Moreover
‘Perennial’ felons! Are ‘rooted’ in their ways!

So, ‘till’ you ‘turn over’ your loot and repent,
You’re ‘grounded’! It seems you’re an ‘annual’ event !
You tell me that with this crime, you’ve been ‘framed’,
But I’m sure you’ve not been unjustly blamed!
Five years in a ‘glasshouse’ to sleep in a ‘raised bed’ !

Next, a Furrier and his girl - a sly ‘minx,’
Who went too ‘fur’ when they ‘stole’ a ‘lynx’
A ‘foxy’ pair!  Of this, there was no doubt!
‘Trapped’ in a Police ‘cloak’ and dagger stakeout
They were loaded with ‘pelts’ when caught

Now the Judge, whose ‘ermine’ robes shook with rage
Said the only cure for this type of outrage,
Was to ‘stretch’ them on the ‘rack’, and ‘tan’ their ‘hides’.
This he ‘felt’ would be ‘fitting’ !  Though his insides
Told him he should send them away!  ‘Furbelow’!

A cobbler, without a ‘sole’!  A ‘ low heel’,
This ‘snob’ with an ‘Oxford Brogue’ had a zeal
For stealing! Not the ‘last’ incarcerated.
He was caught ‘legging’ it, while inebriated
His ‘cleats’ leaving ‘patent’ clues to see!

Wearing ‘rubbers’ he’d work in gloves and ‘spats’
Stealing mainly from apartments and ‘flats’
He was down on his ‘uppers’, quite destitute.
When caught with his heavy bag of loot.
A ‘slippery’ customer if ever there was one!

A ‘dandy’ with a ‘black belt’ in Karate!
Was sent by the Judge to a ‘necktie’ party.
He’d killed a haberdasher, without passion -
He complained it was ‘knot’ the current fashion!
But he could  ‘hang’ around until it returned!

Sentences varied but all were most apt.
Strong men turned deathly pale when his gavel rapped!
By sentences received, none were less enamoured,
Than a crooked auctioneer, who got ‘hammered’!
For ‘knocking down’ ‘lots’ ‘under bid’ to himself!

Crook followed crook in quick succession,
Making quite an impressive procession,
As each took his turn in the prisoner’s dock,
He’d turn and face the courtroom clock,
Under which the Judge sat, with solemn face!

The Judge went down in history that day,
With sentences most apt!  What more can we say?
His procedures quickly made the front page,
And soon appropriate penalties were all the rage!
Except for those of the criminal class!

This punishment proved to be a deterrent.
More so, if they were set to run concurrent!
As for waiting crooks, from Con Artist to thief,
When he adjourned court, they sighed with relief!
Hoping they’d get a more lenient Judge later!

Rhymer April 18th, 2018.
Sorry, it's tad long, but I got carried away!  Lol.
Denis Barter Apr 2018
It was as I listened to a lively tune
I considered how in life, all too soon -
Brought about by change in circumstance,
We're obliged to effect a slower dance!
As we age, heard is a softer, changing beat;
Rhythms exert lesser influence on our feet;
Though music played, still retains a tempo strong,
We've less passionate desire to dance along.
Though the music invites us to take part;
We fear more for aching bones and tired heart.
So jaunty skirls which once we'd entertain,
Are now replaced by a more sedate refrain.
Jigs and reels which would set our feet a-tapping
Are slow to move us, or start hands clapping.
As we recall memories of days now passed,
We are aware that Life's high spirits did not last!
As we watch the young frolicking at play,
We remember that we too, once knew the day
When we were possessed of a boundless energy,
Which is now found replaced by idle lethargy!
Could we turn back the racing clock? We'd aspire
To dance away the endless hours! We'd never tire
clasped in the loving arms of one held dear.
When we are so blessed? Let eternity appear!

Rhymer April 18th, 2018
Denis Barter Apr 2018
The faint perception of a friend, you knew
is now an unknown face that puzzles you,
a once familiar moment - an early memory,
is but a fleeting remnant of what used to be!

A glimpsed mirage departs before fully seen:
teases, but denies recall of a long ago scene.
Frustrated and angered when a studied glance,
caused you to wonder if by some mischance,

it was no more than an idle, passing scene?
When further like happenings are seen
to aggravate and leave you angrily upset,
then more irritation is spawned and you get

agitated and unable to control your rage!
When others show no respect for your age,
and the future seems to be a barren waste:
hours drag, though days pass in undue haste!

When those you once knew well,  disappear,
and you no longer recall times held dear.
You live in darkness, and can no more
find the key to unlock memory’s door!

Desperately you seek for the revealing light,
that gives a rational reason for your plight,
but find there’s none you can discover!
Bemused in a maze, unable to recover

those times with which your life was filled,
seemingly lost forever, and your brain stilled
by the curse of dementia, retreats in sleep!
When you finally succumb,  your family weep

for your leaving to a place as yet unknown,
but freedom from the distress you’ve known,
sees you no longer bewildered in dementia state!
Embracing relief, you gladly go to meet your fate.

Rhymer.  April 16 th, 2018.
(Another friend just passed away from this diabolical condition.  Rhymer.
Denis Barter Apr 2018
It is surely a sign of ageing, when odd things occur,
When yesterday’s doings are lost in memory’s blur.
Like the tool that’s used, then placed somewhere secure.
Safe in a place, that I’ll remember, of this I’m sure.
Later I need it, so go to my place of safe keeping
But nowhere can it be found, despite my seeking.

When I went out walking just the other day,
My feet would insist on heading the wrong way.
On checking the footwear I had placed on my feet,
A pair of shoes, old, clean, but presentable and neat.
I saw, to my chagrin, - shows I’m not very bright,
My shoes had been placed, with my left on the right!

On meeting an old long missed Friend, the other day,
I stopped to speak, before heading out on my way.
Discussed at length this, that and any interesting matter;
How Life now served us, in the way most men natter.
But soon, when our talk I thought, had begun to bore,
Saw he was no friend, but someone never met before!

Before going for my walk, to the basement I went,
To get my shoes and a walking stick, my sole intent.
But as I began descending, my wife called out to me
To ask what I was doing?  Being concerned you see.
After I answered, returned and walked out of the door,
Having completely forgotten what I had gone there for!

When the telephone rang, I answered it as ever
With no smart remarks or retorts thought to be clever.
But when a young lady asked if I were home, or away?
Said I would check to see?  Well, what else could I say?
Who did she think it might be answering her call?
If it wasn’t myself? Then there was no one at all!

Recently it’s seen, some folks are greatly amused,
To see someone such as I, seemingly confused,
But it’s not only me, for it is so very plain to see.
There are many younger, nowhere as old as me,
Who often wonder what, where, why and how
They did today?  Without any evidence they’ll vow

They’d been busy all day doing jobs by the score
Only to find, everything seems as it was before!
Whilst some are worried, wondering what next?
Others grow angry, and can become quite vexed.
But I accept each day as it comes, of excuses I’ve none;
Knowing in this I’m not alone. Of many, I am but one!

Rhymer April 13th, 2018
Denis Barter Mar 2018
With hands holding a Willow wand,
I seek to detect water's source,
flowing deep within the ground!
Exerting its will upon my hand,
energy exuded by water;s force
discloses where it can be found.

This gift, with which I was born,
brings blessed relief to those in need
of water, for it brings great satisfaction
when seen flowing from source to bourne,
as a consequence of my diviners reed,
which I regard as reward enough for my action.

For some, dowsing exudes a mystery,
possessed of an obscure magical property!
When water sought, is thereby detected,
The Rhythm of Life proclaims a victory?
Records show that way back in history,
Black Magic was seriously suspected!

So why am I possessed of this ability?
A gift, some think an arcane anomaly
that locates water, through my hands!
Dowsing that baffles watching spectators,
defies the efforts of charlatan imitators,
who’d benefit, from a force, no one understands!

Should you too, possess this cryptic force,
you’ll know dowsing, for hours perforce,
is most rewarding when success is reached,
and it proves an exciting moment for me
when The Rhythm of Life - water - runs free,
and its source is discovered and breached!

Rhymer.  March 21st, 2018.  

It was pure happenstance I learned I was a Dowser or Water Diviner back in 1960.  Have used it many times since.  Our present water source, comes from wells I discovered and wells dug in 1998. Always an awesome experience.  Ciao Rhymer.
Denis Barter Mar 2018
Shakespeare wrote: that in Life,
we pass through seven,stages,
and for each stage, we fill many pages.
Recording details, joyful and sad:
of deeds done, be they good or bad.
Lifestyles led - be they short or long:
a mournful dirge or joyful song?
they’ll mark times of joy and strife
each book recording a stage in life.
But of all events therein, there’s no doubt,
The Rhythm of Life, runs throughout!

A Challenge was issued to write a poem,
based on the theme "The Rhythm of Life."
Herewith my attempt to describe poetically,
the Seven Phases, of life in metred rhyme:

A baby’s first cry, a Mother’s sigh,
a Father’s joy, be it girl or boy!
The Rhythm of Life - renewing.

Tho not adept, a toddler’s first step:
an excited giggle, a hesitant wiggle!
The Rhythm of Life - exploring.

A chilling dream: a piercing scream:
a splashing bath, a show of wrath!
The Rhythm of Life - revealing.

It’s off to school, playing it cool,
friendships made, twixt lad and maid,
The Rhythm of Life - inviting.

In the Class, shy looks pass:
Girl dates boy, flirting coy:
The Rhythm of Life - delighting.

Embarrassed flush: a girlish blush.
With proposal made, plans are laid,
The Rhythm of Life - maturing.

Lovers matched, a wedding hatched,
with banns said, the twosome wed.
The Rhythm of Life - inviting.

Twixt a couple paired, love is shared.
Next it’s three, maybe more to be?
The Rhythm of Life, expanding.

Heaven be praised, the family’s raised,
then comes the desire, to retire.
The rhythm of Life, now slowing.

After happy years, and some tears,
walk grows slow, soon time to go.
The Rhythm of Life, is waning.

When The Reaper calls, the curtain falls:
being time to leave, some will grieve.
For The Rhythm of Life, has ended!

Rhymer.  March 16th, 2018.
Denis Barter Mar 2018
An Exercise in Alliterative Acrostics.

Ernie, ebulliently enthused,
But battered and bruised,
Understandably uneasy and upset.
Leaves lustful Larry, a ***** lad,
Lasciviously longing to live
Innocuously. Ivan, integratesvolves integrating
Every expeditious and essential
Needed necessities, necessary to negate  
Terrible teasing Thomas, to terminate

All appropriate and aggravating
Noisy Norman notes!  No negotiations can negate
Diabolical devilish deeds.  Determination dictates

Exuding excessive energy, exterminates and excoriates
Nasty native nonentities.  No naive niceties
Tackle tricky testy tasks, for tender tendencies,
Having hyperbole hopes, are hypothetically helpless
Unless usurpers unveil unsung university union
Sympathisers, seeking salvation, as sympathising.
Evangelists, exemplary and enthusiastic experts
Doctors, and dentists doggedly determine details definitely decide,

Ebullience and Enthusiasm exist!

Rhymer.  March 10th, 2018.
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