(Without a Ghost of a Chance)

Glimpsed as aberrations of our imagination,
Which quickly disappear upon close examination,
These past, present denizens of the afterlife,
Are now dead ringers condemned to eternal strife!

Some are meek apparitions of lesser standing,
Who, when randomly met upon a stair landing,
Are no more than pale visions of a phantom state.
Ill-starred victims, sentenced to a haunting fate!

Often preceded by musty miasmic vapours,
Wellspring of grief to the living with their capers,
These grotesque caricatures of once living form,
Continually cause chaos!  Refusing to conform!

These discarnate spectres, with ghoulish impudence,
Frequently display transparent signs of decadence,
But when spooked, the poltergeist or doppelganger,
Discharges destructive and high spirited clangour!

They, having expressed their wraithful spite,
Flee to nether regions in full fugacious flight.
Doomed to haunt those they eternally deplore.
Their eerie ectoplasmic state is for evermore!

These ephemeral visions, we so seldom welcome.
Are often too real to dismiss as pure 'bunkum!'
For these incarnate spirits, we know as Ghosts,
Are seldom well-received by their haunted hosts!

Rhymer. September 29th, 2020.

When a myriad of shooting stars sparkled bright,
sped by in a glittering display, one Autumnal night,
they quickly traversed - as is their universal right,
to the Milky Way, I was overtaken with delight!
Being warmly wrapped - for the night was cool,
wearing a heavy old coat, that was lined with wool,
I was snugly warm. Dozing off, I began to dream,
where in my stargazing reverie, a beckoning beam
from a passing comet heading out into space,
beckoned me on a journey to a far distant place.
One where I’d visit worlds - in galactic profusion.
At this, in the midst of my kaleidoscopic confusion,
it seemed my dream became transformed into reality,
as planets and stars in great numbers, sped by me.
Though I knew not how to tell, one planet from the other,
I suddenly saw one passing, that was earth’s twin brother!
It was seen a speeding planet, flying by in blurred haste,
but from what I could see, it looked a lifeless, waste!
Even today, I can clearly recall my dream as I write,
and shudder at the sight of that lifeless, barren sight,
for it was the bleakest landscape I have ever seen!
Heaven forbid it was a sign, that earth’s verdant green,
will be looking like this, unless we change our ways,
and end the senseless spoiling, that’s rife these days.
If not, soon our unique oasis, could drift in lifeless state
a victim of the same perceived, barren apathetic fate
that has befallen every single planet known to man.
Today, we should appreciate the pleasures we can
enjoy today. Often taken for granted by you and me.
As for my dream? May it never become stark reality!

Rhymer September 25th, 2020.

A golden shaft of sunlight, pierces the morning sky.
Splits the clouds asunder.  Announces.. Dawn is nigh!
The lustrous leaves of Autumn, roused by the early light,
Dislodge tardy remnants, of dark departing night.

Beaded dewdrops sparkle.  Soft lit by the yellow sun.
Wraiths of mist meander, and mark the river’s run.
Iradescent damsel flies, hover among the reeds.,
Skim over shallow waters, safe among the weeds.

The **** crow then declares, the start of another day.
His cry echoed by an owl, returning home with prey.
Smoke from the homestead chimney, is reluctant to rise,
And break the unspoiled clarity, of the morning skies.

Noise of the world awakening, travels from afar.
While the rising sun, overwhelms the morning star.
Soon the wind is stirring, warmed by the gentle light,
And with new strength garnered, badgers the dawdling night!

Now the day has broken, and the sun is in full flight.
Our world appears refreshed! Drenched with life giving light!
As we start our daily chores, we note a calming peace,
And wonders of day’s dawning, we pray will never cease!

Rhymer.

Although eyes are opened, how few of us will see
What there is around us, or care what it might be?
For many shrink from truth, to suit their selfish need,
With eyesight that’s selective, troubles they’ll not heed.

Although ears are receptive, how few of us will hear,
The cries of those persecuted, living constantly in fear.
Deafened by the thunder, of righteous indignation;
Their pleas silently ignored, by lack of motivation.

Although our hearts are touched, by pity and compassion,
When action is needed, it’s considered out of fashion.
It’s an oft accepted view: that’s Life!  So what? It’s tough!
Then leave the matter shelved: tomorrow - soon enough!

We must exercise our senses, and open hearts much more
To mitigate the plight, that affects the sick and poor
It is by so doing, and the satisfaction Life awards,
That we are blessed, and reap life’s justified rewards.

Rhymer September 22nd, 2020.

I’m positive I met a man the other day,
One clearly negative in every way.
As I could tell right from the start.
The two of us were really poles apart.

When first we connected via the Internet,
I cabled him to visit and so we met,
It proved to be a really poor connection,
For sparks flew in every known direction!

With my every argument negated
He failed to be positively motivated
I immediately fulminated!  Blew a fuse!
That brought short his verbal abuse,

As this activated an under current
Which alternated with a direct deterrent,
I switched tactics to plug his flow;
Transformed his power trip from fast to slow

Being shocked by his constant negativity
With every reasoned argument of relativity
Wasted, I tried to ensure I was insulated,
Taking the line he was not positively motivated.

Since having conducted an ‘on-line’ survey
Of how matters came to be this way,
It was found contradictory polarity
Provided grounds to arrive at our disparity

As we’d broken our recent live connection
I wired him with a suggested positive correction.
That should he remain so negatively down to earth?
In Life, I’m positive, he’d generate little worth.

Rhymer
September 18th  2020

Always a country lad was I,
and in the country I’ll hope to die,
for there’s nothing like solitude
found in a land, ruggedly rude,
which thrives about and around.
Where spiritual serenity found,
is removed from noise and bustle
of the endless metropolitan hustle,
that chases and constantly chivvies
office workers and menial skivvies,
who chase a hopeless dream.
All part of the urban scheme
that promises followers gold,
if they trample the lesser bold!
Me?  I let the world go by,
as I idly sit and gaze at the sky,
to watch fleecy clouds pass on.
I blink.  Suddenly they’re gone!
I never wonder as  to where they went:
what of their destination or their portent?
for I know others will follow as before,
as I spend hours doing nothing more
than watching, enjoying the day.
Such is this country lad’s way!
Some say I’m wasting my life,
but hours spent free from strife
I’d say with all honest sincerity,
have made my life, in all verity,
a journey of lasting pleasure.
With special moments, I treasure,
captured in my hours of solitude,
I allow no one or thing to intrude
that might spoil my sacred reverie.
This is the life well suited to me,
and not one I’ll swap readily
until I go to eternity - happily!
Until that day, I’ll be content
to see my hours and days spent
in the serious consideration
as to what in all creation,
I’d do if I were city bred?
The very thought hurts my head:
how would I endure the noise?
Now as thinking upsets my poise,
I’ll quietly ruminate again today,
and listen to what nearby birds say
in their knowing country way!
Yes, I’m glad to be a country lad,
for rustic ways ain’t so bad,
and as I regard haste a crime,
I take each day in slow time.
There is much more I could say,
but feel I’ve said enough today!

Rhymer. September 17th, 2020.

Oh me, Oh My, I must confess,
suffering from great stress excess
I am a Poet in duress!
A mental mess: a mental mess.

How do I ease my cursed stress
in a manner that is harmless?
Truthfully I herewith confess,
I’m in distress, I’m in distress.

I’ve tried Folklore cures that are less
telling, but taken to excess,
they leave me in a greater mess.
Increasing stress, Increasing stress.

Should peace of mind return to bless
my day, would it perhaps, suppress
or redress my extreme duress,
and ease my stress; and ease my stress.

I’ve lost the joys of happiness,
and weep from cursed stress excess,
so need a healing cure I guess.
A cure express.  A cure express.

Should you cure my mental distress,
t‘would be a blessing, I confess,
and I’d be happy to express
my thanks. God Bless.  My thanks. God Bless.

Rhymer. September 16th,  2020.