Just now I had a thought flit through my brain
At least I thought I had, but now it’s gone again.
Of course, I should have spoken up and not delayed
Cos now it can’t be found.  Seems it strayed.
Next time I get another thought like that
I’ll keep it in mind until I’ve grabbed my hat
Under which I’ll keep it safe, until needed,
For a good thought should always be heeded.
We should never waste a worthy thought,
But use it immediately, when it’s first thought,
Or all essential reasoning comes to naught!
When we were young, that’s what teachers taught.
As we grow older, age should not change
The way we keep our thoughts nor rearrange
The manner in which we’d use a worthy thought.
Thus to safeguard our thought, when moments are fraught
With other matters which might allow it to go astray?
We must seize the moment, and use it straight away.
But hush! It’s evident my thought has returned again;
and seeks immediate acknowledgement from my brain.
So let me quickly speak of what I’d a thought to say,
Before it is lost once more or goes astray!
So without further ado this is what I’d a thought to say:
Oh ****!  Would you believe?  It’s already gone away!

Rhymer July 12th, 2018..

Instead of walking briskly, I often shuffle:
Watching TV I’ll cough, sniffle and snuffle:
This riles my wife and creates a kerfuffle,
Then flipping channels - her feathers I ruffle!
Such are the things that please me now!

Will nap in the chair, till dinner is late:
Or eat peas from my knife: to aggravate.
After jay walking, the motorist I berate!
Will say what I think; tell others straight
What’s on my mind, which makes some irate!
But they’re the things that please me now!

I lecture my children - it’s something they hate:
Bore them with old tales I repeatedly relate,
It drives them to tears, so they often state,
Or makes them angry! I love to infuriate!
It’s more of what pleases me now!

Slurp my coffee and saucer my tea ;
Dunk my biscuits when in company;
Will openly burp and quite often loudly,
and make others blush by acting badly,
Just doing a few things that please me now!

When my wife calls: I’m not to be found,
Should she call louder? I hear nary a sound!
Offer unwanted opinions that shock and astound,
Argue for hours, stubbornly standing my ground,
Sure these are things what please me now!

But when day is done: I head off to bed,
Though never admitting to things done or said,
As tomorrow might be too late - I could be dead,
Will mumble I’m sorry for the dance she’s been led,
That’s the time for what best pleases me now!

Rhymer July 12th, 2018.

When poetry describes the historical,
One refrains from becoming hysterical.
However by use of the judicial rhetorical
A Poet makes full use of the allegorical!

So when writing poetry I remain stoical,
That though some may think me radical,
Employing words they considered lyrical,
I try never to appear, irrational or critical.

To write about the mystical and cryptical,
Using strict rhythm?  Can be diabolical!
As for themes regarded purely mythical,
I shy from words too pictorial or technical.

My approach to topics humourously comical,
Is to compose lines thoughtfully satirical.
In turn this allows me to remain sceptical,
Whilst appearing not too fanatical or cynical!

So, if with words I am reckoned economical?
I hope my rational thoughts are not illogical,
But in using descriptive words, is it ethical
To ensure Poems not be too whimsical?

Now, without appearing to be pontifical,
Though I'm always careful to be veridical,
I'm allowed at times, to wax philosophical,
As I attempt to depict matters paradoxical.

Doubtless some will find my words inimical:
Fanatically methodical and chronological?
But in attempting the facetious or ironical,
I'll avoid the pitfalls of being too graphical.

Should poetry be left to the technological?
One might find it becomes too puritanical.
And suggest the Poet was unduly practical!
Such is the way of the biased hypocritical!

If my poetic lines appear to be egotistical?
Then readers must understand, that's logical.
But please I beg of you, never be heretical,
When lines concern the canonical or political.

Will a Poet's thoughts be considered farcical,
If a reader is left bemused and quizzical?
Or should he stick to the unequivocally canonical?
Personally, I'm happy if my poems are grammatical!

So I'll conclude thinking poetry may be symbolical,
And my many rhymes, in quantities numerical,
May not satisfy the purist nor the global ecumenical,
But they deal with topics that are never hypothetical!


Rhymer.  July 10th, 2018.

(Your turn Jim!)

I write poetry, least that’s my aim;
enjoy the challenge: think it a game.
Although some follow rigid rules
I tend to think that’s for fools,
and break them as and when it suits.
This is one of the literary pursuits
which I enjoy, for it suits me well,
as fans of mine will often tell.
Others of a different persausion find,
I’m possessed of a deviant mind.
When a phrase or a single word
I’ve used, is seemingly absurd -
perceived within my poetic lines,
you should take note of subtle signs,
for you’ll find my intent oft changes direction.
It's best you read my words with circumspection;
knowing all may not be as it first appears,
when perceived rationale ostensibly disappears.
When this leaves the reader wondering “What?”
Further reading suggests that what they’ve got
are random meanderings of a Polyglot,
or a deviant wordsmith, like as not!
But it’s my way as a perverse Poet,
possessing some acumen, and subtle wit,
who uses allusive methods to lead
and delude, those who blindly read
each word as though twas cast in stone!
Be aware, every word used, I hone
keenly to achieve my desired effect!
Being critical of all the words I select,
is vital that each one fulfills my aim.
Being pernickety, is to me, a game
that fulfills a purpose. By this exercise
I achieve satisfaction, and can fantasize
about reactions I might possibly receive!
Ergo!!  My purpose, is simply to deceive!

Rhymer.  July 10th, 2018.

Twas purely happenstance,
that a quick passing glance
caused Love to be ignited.
Still three years would pass,
before that slender lass
and I were lovingly united!

Firstly to places far away,
I was sent, to work and play:
twas a journey long expected,
but on my return - a later day,
the fates in their devious way,
smiled on me unexpected!

From letters in her fair hand,
I learned about her island land,
and how her days were spent.
As months and years went by,
they helped to make time fly.
So much to me they meant!

With my duty done, I returned
for a vacation, I had earned,
and asked if she would visit?
For by now, the bond I’d made,
with this attractive maid,
had fostered dreams exquisite!

After my heartfelt personal plea
to come visit me and my family:
which she accepted gracefully,
we took cycling trips here and there,
that fostered memories to share
even as love blossomed naturally.

Twas then future plans were laid,
twixt me and my fair island maid,
to wed one mid December morn.
Staying firm in our endeavour
we planned for a life together,
confronting all critical scorn!

Leaving behind our carefree days,
and forsaking our youthful ways,
we set out on our chosen adventure.
Though some said we were deceived
to think love would last, we believed,
it would prove a long lasting venture.

Surviving times of joy and tears,
love has flourished for sixty years.
Having overcome all tribulations
by boldly facing each new day:
supporting each other in every way,
we have good cause for celebrations!

Destiny decreed we would briefly meet,
then go full circle, before we’d complete
the loving twosome we remain today!
The Vows we made, when first wed,
remain as true today as when first said:
and will remain so, until our final day!

Rhymer.  July 2nd, 2018.

Whomsoever you might be?

If I wrote a letter to a stranger:
whose name I do not know,
will they answer with a pseudonym:
under a brash bon mot?
If I seal it in an envelope
and mail it off in haste,
will it ever be delivered,
or my writing prove a waste?
Now should that stranger answer,
with deception thought my game,
will their reply be in keeping?
or think it such a shame,
that the details of my letter -
the one they never got -
should be scrapped as junk mail,
because their name I had forgot?
Of course, they may not answer,
which to me would be unfair,
for having taken time to write one,
and mail it off to where
they once resided - perhaps still do?
If they deign not to answer?:
Does that seem right to you?
If I addressed it wrongly,
would it come back to me?
Or if I expedite it,
in a fit of urgency!
If it was not delivered,
what would the mailman think?
Would he ‘return to sender’,
or refer me to a Shrink?
But writing to a stranger,
and keeping them amused,
leaves me in a quandary,
and a little bit confused!
So perhaps I'll scrap my letter,
until a later day,
and write it when I get to know,
exactly where they stay?
But now another problem rises,
one that must be fixed:
with the details I now know,
their ambiguity is nixed!
So my letter to a stranger,
will have to wait I fear,
for news I want to impart,
is nothing they would hear.

So I’ll wait until I’m sure,
that why, who, where and whence,
the news I would impart,
will possess a modicum of sense?

Rhymer.  July 1st, 2018.

My thoughts sometimes wander to places I’ve been:
in my imagination, to places never seen.
With no restrictions, and no baggage to pack,
in an instant of time, I can go and come back!

I will close my eyes then clearly visualize
any scenic beauty: there’s no need of eyes.
Leaving the real world, be it ***** or grim,
I can gaze on wonders, whatever my whim!

I’ll sometimes greet old Friends to say Hi:
so great to see them again; glad they dropped  by.
The moment, though delusory, remains enthralling:
perforce it is short; with other demands calling.

I can join boyhood heroes of adventure tales:
sail the oceans seven, under billowing sails.
Fly through the heavens, in a hot air balloon:
returning to earth with a bump: all too soon!

I can fight anacondas, with my bare hands:
join expeditions to far off foreign lands:
Chat with tribal leaders, to right all wrongs;
or enjoy a camp fire to sing rondolet songs.

I’ll invent devices to benefit all mankind:
add new medicines: they’ll be easy to find.
Concepts are endless for inspired creation.
Imagination wholly sufficient for total expiation.

Our wandering thoughts, emanating from dreams,
allow us great freedom to manufacture schemes
whereby exotic worlds and situations are close to hand:
for in an instant of time, we depart to another land.

So wander at will to wheresoever you’d go:
Travel quickly as light beams, or travel slow!
You’re free to go whither, and where so ere  you choose,
with no cause to worry, for you’ve nothing to lose!

Rhymer  June 30th, 2018.