I’m depressed, said the bellpush to the thumb,
and suffer endless ringing, until I succumb
to constant pressures, when jabbed for long.
So please be gentle; don’t press too strong.

Though firm, round and hard when I was born,
I yield to the grind, said the black peppercorn:
Me too said coffee, although I’m seldom refused,
after I'm roasted, and my grounds hotly infused!

I suffer a split personality said Nutmeg: my fate
is to lose my appeal (peel), when my kernel, they grate
to join Mace.  That’s the skin in which I am clad,
which makes a spicy additive.  It really is too bad,

but my life’s a whirl, said the busy spinning wheel,
and no one knows how warped and twisted I feel,
spending hour after hour in never-ending gyration,
reeling a bobbin dependant on my constant rotation!

Whereas I, said the needle, have a unique ability
to make a point.  Though it adds to my capability,
It’s a darned nuisance having to repair holes of size,
relying solely upon the size and state of my eyes.

Next, the steam iron, bragged it could flatten anything,
whilst the electric kettle, then professed it could sing
in harmony with any tuning fork that could thrum a tune,
Ii both were allowed to harmonise  and softly croon.

I’m a hoot said the Trumpet Vine, and gave a toot!
Whereupon the Bugle Plant, snorting a derisive snoot,
said, “you’re nothing but a social climber, whereas I
remember my humble roots, and such as you, I decry.”

Then we heard the woes of the fairground Carousel.
Suffering from “ highs” and “ lows,”  it thought it hell
to go nowhere!  This, despite having seen many sights,
and dizzy from constantly working depths and heights!

But the final word belongs to the toilet brush:.
Bristling with anger, it possessed a red flush!
Perpetually plunged into the depths of despair,
its only avenue of escape, was a place somewhere

unthinkable!  It had had enough of its dead end job,
and was wasting away!  At working it was no slob,
but it was a task not to be relished nor recommended,
having no future of merit, should fall-out be suspended!

At this others agreed, his was a dead end job
be it working for peasant or the richest Nabob.
There were few positions, few notwithstanding
to be found as lowly.  Be it sitting or standing!

Rhymer.  May 22nd, 2018.

When I'm within your arms, and you hold me tight:
I fear no cold, no rain, nor the darkness of night.
Firm in your close embrace, I'm warmly protected,
For you are my refuge, that's graciously accepted.
There's a familiarity we share, that's truly like no other,
As are the closest bonds of a sister and her brother.
Your comfort is a nostrum: you dispense it very well,
And with a style and flair that fits, you really do excel.
You're my guardian angel, who protects me from surprise.
Sometimes when accidents occur or a problem will arise;
Timely warnings are ignored or they're totally rejected:
Smugness then prevails; you're discarded and neglected,
But never once do you fail, to fly post haste to my aid!
Proving once again, you're the best coat, ever made!

Rhymer. May 22nd, 2018

I had a thought, as I’ll explain,
To go for a walk, out in the rain.
So donned my slicker, boots and hat,
Well prepared for what the day begat.
Having intended to leave and then return
Later.  But doing an abrupt about turn
Just before I left, I thought again,
As to what from my walk, I’d gain?
So without further thought, I delayed
My intention of walking, and stayed
At home.  Now having gone no where,
Thought this a rare happening, to share.
Having the thought, was surely enough,
But as for my reason?  Now that’s tough!
Doubtless I changed my mind before I left,
Thinking I’d have sufficient energy left
To use another day, if once again
I felt like taking a walk in the rain.
But then again, I might simply decide
To stay at home, and not to go outside,
Knowing a walk can be undertaken when
I'm in the right mood to walk out again:
though not when it’s pouring with rain!
Is this sufficient, to possibly explain,
the rationale behind my walk’s delay,
and why I almost went for a walk today?

Rhymer.  May 12th, 2018.

When life overwhelms, noise is loud,
instinctively I retreat, away from the crowd:
standing solitary, though crowds mill around,
I seek inner peace until serenity is found.

When walking through a forested glade,
in search of repose, in the muted shade
I’ll quietly meditate and saunter through,
to think on the years, I’ve spent with you.

With my Spirit buoyed, by songs of birds,
I’ve seldom a need for spoken words.
This quiet oasis, allows the world to pass by;
refreshes my Soul and answers the ‘why?’

Watched waters of a slow moving stream
spur reverie, memory or a favourite dream.
Cool winds slowly diminish as evening falls,
to bring pleasant moments of Nature’s calls.

The crashing surf, and its air borne spume:
Lazy dust motes floating across a sunlit room:
A butterfly flitting from flower to flower,
More tender moments that pass the hour.

So whether at work or indulging in play,
I try to make the most of my every day.
Be the day dull or the sun brightly shine,
Such time is well spent, for peace is mine.

Rhymer. May 7th, 2018

I’d love to write you a letter,
but your name has slipped my mind:
Though a message from me to you,
would be pleasant for you to find.
I’ve exciting news to tell you,
of happenings hereabout;
Though important details I’ve forgotten,
of its truth I’ve never a doubt.
Concerning the doings of neighbours,
or was it some other folks?
The way particulars escape me,
is one of Life’s little jokes!
Then when the missing details return?
I’ll be alone and the hour late!
The point behind telling this story,
is mine alone to relate.
Possessed of a very good memory,
I never forget a face,
And yours is amongst those respected
to hold a singular place.
I’m certain there was a moment,
when I knew your Christian name:
Now “It” I cannot remember,
And your address: does it remain the same?
I’d ask of the one you had married,
but their name escapes me too:
Maybe to address them wrongly,
might further embarrass you?
Were they the one whose frantic parents,
promised riches you’d gain,
If you’d marry and bed their offspring,
the one they called simple by name?
And what of your numerous children?
For surely you’ve had quite a few?
Though perhaps it was some other person
that I’m now confusing with you?
So rather than cause further embarrassment,
to someone I’m not sure I know,
I’ll read and re-check your last letter,
which arrived mere minutes ago.
Seems from this latest you’ve written,
which remains unopened, unread,
The contents adamantly states,
you seriously thought I was dead!
Though I fully agree with what’s written,
the news therein I knew,
And think it nothing but gossip!
Have you nothing better to do?
So I’ll write no more for the present,
you’ve said far more than I would:
Now should you write me another later?
I’m fully aware where you’re stood.
So If I write you again tomorrow,
I’ll try to remember your name!
But thanks for your letter anyway,
I’m truly happy it came.
And should you forget to whom you were writing?
I’ll inform you soon - by and by:
And if this letter seems a trifle confusing,
It’s not half as confused as I!

Rhymer May 4th, 2018.
A little bit of fun in case you thought to write me a letter!

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!
But never wonder to where they went:
what their destination and intent?
Know more will follow as before,
as I spend hours doing no 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 extreme pleasure.
With special moments, I treasure,
captured in my hours of solitude,
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 - willingly!
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?
And as thinking upsets my poise,
I’ll quietly stay sitting a bit,
and listen to what birds say
in their knowing country way!
Yes, I’m glad to be a country lad,
for rustic ways ain’t bad,
and I regard haste as a crime,
so I take each day in slow time.
There is much more I could say,
but feel I’ve said enough today!

Rhymer.  May 4th, 2018

Last night I was beguiled by dreams galore:
of sailing ships, pirates, explorers and more,
but the best for me, was of a country scene.
A quiet rustic retreat, where I was often seen,

accompanied by the music of a babbling stream,
cavorting with Nature.  Wandering in my dream
along a brook, where willows danced and swayed,
in choreographed terpsichore, as water music played.

The cadence of rattling reeds: a pulsing even beat,
were as castanets, that energised my restless feet!
There was magic in the music, heard by me this night.
Seduced by its bravura, I savoured the gentle delight,

of soft vagrant breezes, that added their unique refrain,
to the rhythmic tattoo. Enhanced by the beating rain,
perfection then prevailed, with the pleasing music heard.
Complete in all respects, it required no single word

to further foster my enjoyment, of its haunting melody.
As such it was pleasing, and a pleasant treat for me,
though twas a short lived dream; that was soon done!
Of many dreams encountered? This was a cherished one.

Long shall I remember, as a moment to hold dear,
for such entertaining dreams, are a rarity I fear.
Bringing a welcome smile, to replace a morning frown;
raising spirits high, when I’m worried or cast down!

May 3rd, 2018.

A donkey is an animal
that seldom makes a fuss,
But his stoical demeanour,
is a trait that many cuss.
Patiently long standing
he watches life come and go,
For truly, he is a “smart ***”
though there’s few that ever know!

Being strong in leg and body,
he’s used as a working drudge,
But when his limit has been reached,
can be very hard to budge!
Then many think him obstinate,
and call him a stubborn mule,
But forbearance is his forté,
so he always keeps his cool!

Though gentle is his nature,
for it is his normal way,
He can be a fury roused
when danger comes his way.
He’s often a guardian angel
to a farmer’s flock of sheep,
For his presence warns marauders,
their distance they must keep.

But if with love and kindness,
to his needs you  attend,
He’ll be honest and loyal,
and remain your faithful friend.
If you spoil him with a tidbit,
like a carrot once a day,
He’ll be your stellar buddy,
in every expected way.

Though a donkey cannot speak,
his intent is clear to see,
For those who love his qualities,
folks like you and me.
He’s trustworthy and loving
to those who treat him well,
But to those who hurt or curse him,
he’ll make their life a Hell!

With pleasant disposition,
though always primed to fight,
A donkey in the farmyard,
is always a welcome sight;
He’ll defend his close companions,
he’s friends with everyone,
They know of all God’s creatures,
he was chosen Number One!

Rhymer. April 29th, 2018.

Tranquility rules, the cool air is still:
spellbound, I look and drink my fill,
as morning awakening fills the air.
With my eyes opened wide, I stare
at pleasures offered and given free,
which bounteous Nature awards me!

The Meadowlark, soaring happily
sings her song of joy.  A rhapsody
to serenade her fledglings, snug below,
whilst the rising sun, with golden glow,
urges the stirring morning breeze,
to tease awake the dormant trees.

Two Mourning Doves, bill and coo,
planning their day and what they’ll do.
Cattle lowing in the meadow afar,
bid farewell to the last morning star.
A skein of geese honk high overhead,
as towards the north, they swiftly head.

Whilst a Red Cardinal proudly prances
in and out of the evergreen branches,
entertaining his mate, brooding eggs,
a lone Grey Heron on stilt-like legs,
seeks a snack in the riverside reeds,
unaware a frog hides in nearby weeds!

Sheep bleat as the shepherd’s dog,
presages their coming out of the fog.
The Carrion Crow, with raucous cry,
warns a *****, furtively passes by.
Ducks on the pond, splash and dive,
in grand celebration, of being alive.

The sun advises, the hour grows late,
as does a Curlew to its watching mate.
But I am most reluctant to depart,
and leave these scenes close to my heart.
So great is the reward, that surrounds,
when I behold the beauty that abounds!

Rhymer.  April 29th, 2018.

When I sit for hours in contemplation,
Do not search for an explanation!
If perchance you should ask me why
I let precious hours, pass idly by?
You’d find no cause for truth in my reply?

You’re sure to think I’m wasting time,
And my sitting has no reason or rhyme.
Why must I always give a lame excuse,
For doing nothing, and just sitting loose!
Does relaxation always need a use?

Of course, I could be making a big decision,
Which needs careful planning, and precision.
Chances are, that would be a blatant lie!
With no urgent plans, with which I’ll do or die,
Aimless thoughts drift like dream castles in the sky!

When I sit motionless, making no sound
I like folks to think I’m being profound
Resolving philosophies, fathoms deep!
It’s an impression I would have them keep.
But truth to tell, most times, I’ve fallen asleep!

Rhymer. April 24th, 2018.
.

(I Could Not Knot a Knot.)

My tale is one of tortuous frustration,
when two ropes caused me aggravation,
and my every effort resulted in a situation
that left me in a state of angry indignation!

Oh, what a knotty problem I had got,
when I found I could not knot a needed knot!
Though needing help on how to knot a knot,
no one I knew, knew how to knot my needed knot!

I had two short ropes - which I’d a need to knot,
and which I’d knot together with a special knot,
but it never worked, for the knot did not knot,
and my knot came undone!  I felt such a clot!

Firstly, I took the ropes, which I twisted tight
together, but still the end result, was not right,
for when I tugged, the knot, not only fell apart,
but showed no sign of a knot!  Making a fresh start,

I took one rope, and placed it firmly under
the other.  This was so easy, I did wonder
if my actions should have been reversed,
for it too fell apart!  Oh, how I cursed!

Seems tying knots is not for faint hearts,
for any knot, that’s not knotted, soon parts
when it’s put to the test!  That I’m not a knot
expert, you can tell.  Truly, my forte is not

that of being very good at tying knots,
for I do not understand what knots
need, to keep them from falling apart!
Tying a knot right, right from the start,

is important, and that’s why my knot
was  not reliable, but why I did not
understand.  Yes, I’ve tied many knots.
but they’re knots known as Granny Knots.

Other knots are what folks call a Slip Knot.
Then there’s the Turk’s Head - a special knot,
as is the Cat’s Paw, Clove Hitch,and Bowline.
Truth to tell, - none of these resembles mine!

Then there’s a Timber Hitch, which is a knot
that truly puzzles me, and not an easy knot to knot!
There’s many other knots, that need the greatest skill,
such as the Hangman’s Knot - a knot that’s made to ****!

Whilst the sheepshank?  That’s a tricky one to see!
So many knots, but they’re not knots for me.
Methinks of all the knots, the one true knot for me,
is the “Lover’s Knot”, which I have tied successfully!

Rhymer. April 24th, 2018

As I viewed the view I could see you, a ewe and a yew.
Then I saw the ewe, under a yew, was looking at you!
But that ewe under the yew looking at you, was a view
which begged the question as to why, the ewe under the yew,
was looking at you, and what was its view of you?
Did you see that ewe under the yew, looking at you,
or did you only see the yew and not the ewe looking at you?,
or was it only the ewe looking at you, and not the yew?
I ask this of you, for I cannot ask the ewe standing under the yew,
nor can I ask the yew, under which stood the ewe,
who was stood looking at you.  So what’s your view?  
Do you, take the view that the ewe, under the yew
had nothing to do, and was simply under the yew
so it could look at you?  Although I’m sure the yew
had nothing to do with you, neither did the ewe,
that was looking at you, from under that yew!
Maybe the yew, under which the ewe stood looking at you,
was a convenient yew for the ewe, to get a good view of you?
That’s my view, as to why the ewe stood under the yew to look at you?
If you know, please tell me do, so I can forget my view
of the question as to why the ewe under the yew, was looking at you!
Then I can bid you, the yew and the ewe, a fond Adieu!

Rhymer.  April 21st, 2018.

My clothes are in tatters;
my shoes down at heel,
I’ve no wealth that matters,
to eat, I oft steal!
Beset by illusions:
as to what I desire,
I suffer delusions,
from drugs I acquire!

I pan handle all day,
from folks passing by.
“I’ve nothing to eat,”
is my plaintive cry!
Some drop a few cents,
into my battered tin cup,
which buys little more,
than a coffee to sup!

My bed is a grating,
that’s warming and dry,
where I often get cursed,
from thugs walking by!
When the day is over,
and night settles in,
I scavenge the ‘skips’
in hopes there’s food within!

Should someone stop,
in their passing by,
I tell them my story,
in hopes I can pry
a ****** or two:
or a Five now and then.
Whilst on rare occasions,
I’ll garner a Ten!

Winter nights are sheer hell,
when it’s bitter cold:
such times I oft wonder
if I’ll ever grow old?
That’s when I hope folks
from the Sally Ann -
those saints in disguise,
will pass by if they can,

to provide me some food,
and shelter as well.
They display a compassion
that I know full well.
For those down on their luck:
and in dire need of care,
the Sally Ann folks,
are the first to be there.

You’re nothing but ****,
so many folks will say,
but there once was a time,
a long ago day,
when I was both healthy,
and fit, and living well.
Until my life fell apart,
and soon days were a hell!

Being quite unknowing
that a legal prescription
would proceed to grow
into a serious addiction!
Though relieving my pain,
I found out too late
the cause was due to
Fentanyl, an ******!

Being badly hooked
on ****** drugs,
and needing more,
found a dealer - through thugs,
who offered supplies
for my addictive vice
with no questions asked,
at an outrageous price!

Then matters grew worse
from that fateful day.
Though begun unknowing,
twas the price I’d pay,
which proved to be
a pernicious dependency!
Which because of its hold
changed my destiny!

Wanting nothing of me,
my friends and close kin,
pass without saying Hi,
nor knowing how I am within
they cross  the road,
to avoid our meeting!
Deaf to my every cry
of familial greeting!

I ask  them for nothing,
neither water nor bread!
Ere I’d ask them for help,
I prefer to be dead!
They took what they liked,
when my life went awry,
and often stated
is their hope I will die!

Being strong and doughty,
with a yen to survive,
I may be cold and hungry,
but I’m still much alive.
You may think me a wastrel,
the poorest of poor,
but the tide has turned:
and my addiction’s no more!

It’s thanks for help given,
I’m back on my feet:
having kicked the habit:
my recovery’s complete.
I’m back with the living,
and life is again great,
and I’ve no further need,
for the deadly ******!

To kin folk, I’ve said naught,
as to how life has changed
but I doubt they care
until words are exchanged!
For now I remain silent
until I deem the time right,
and when I’m ready to tell,
imagine my delight,

when with incredulous looks,
it’s not of my demise
they will be hearing
but of my return! A surprise
in truth!  What a pleasure
I’ll get to tell all,
I’m back home to live,
and it’s no social call!

The house is in my name,
so I’ve an Owner’s right,
to come and go at will,
be it day or night.
I’m free to invite,
whomsoever I choose,
I’ll rise when I wish,
or lie in and snooze!

As for my family wishes?
I’ll pay them no heed.
Their made their thoughts clear
when they denied my need!
Yes, the road I’d taken,
was the short cut to Hell!
But they offered nothing
to help me get well!

This curse of mankind,
can be conquered and cured.
Prompt actions save lives,
and you can be assured
every addict who craves,
be they man or maid,
is a Soul in need,
that is seeking your aid!

A passing glance, shows naught!
It’s the spirit inside,
that having beaten addiction,
sees us walking with pride!
Once this curse is vanquished,
and drugs are eschewed
you’ll receive sincere thanks,
for the life that’s renewed!

So judge not the homeless,
without knowing reasons why?
More so when someone loved,
is desperate to die!
When help is requested,
don’t turn your cheek,
but stop and ask questions,
as to what they seek?

It’s not for your pity
the homeless plead,
but for a compassionate,
recognition of their need!
After a prescription written.
Many become hooked
when pain killer effects,
are overlooked!

Rhymer. April 21st, 2018.

A man of words, with whom I can relate,
that plays guitar, so I’ve learned of late,
and writes poetry with a humourous trait!
His amusing comments - seldom  sedate,
are no stranger to others on the Internet.
He is a poet raconteur, I’ve never met,
whose comments are short and pithy, yet
never once have they offended other poets.
In truth the opposite is more likely true.
A staunch member of the Hello Poetry crew.
He writes on matters, which in my considered view
often evokes from this member, a chuckle or two!
Such is his way with words, that his observations,
enjoyed by others, are pertinent, without reservations.
Young, old or of an age in between, who knows?
He, with his input, keeps members on their toes.
That he has an eye, for poetry’s potential clearly shows.
This small poem is by way of tribute to a fellow Poet,
who has opinions and thoughts and intends to show it!
For my part - as my time is limited, and I seldom comment,
this is my way of expressing thanks for the compliment
he often pays me with his chosen words.  Ergo in appreciation
of his efforts, this paltry rhyme, must suffice. This dissertation
coming from my heart, was written as  a deserved  ovation!

Rhymer.  April 20th, 2018.

I am a Senior, of advanced years.
I strive to live each day,
I refuse to buckle under - it’s not my way.
I speak up to any injustice when seen
I listen to all, be they young, old or teen.
I hope for tomorrow, a better place,
I struggle to accept, we’re a superior race.
I am a Senior, of advanced years.

I am a Senior, set in my ways,
I love to live fully, it was always my way,
I watch the young, indulging in play.
I learn from others, accept advice without qualm.
I daydream of a world, peaceful and calm,
I laugh at my daydreams, it’s a time to play.
I cry for the peace: always one step away,
I am a Senior, set in my ways.

I am a Senior, stubborn and firm,
I admire the person, who can admit they’re wrong
I respect the one, who sings a positive song.
I expect few of you reading, know me at all,
I accept life has been wonderful. Today? It’s a ball.
I reject naysayers, and their negativity;
I deserve to be heard, with courteous civility.
I am a Senior, stubborn and firm.

I am a Senior of an advanced years.
I desire to see peace - so far out of sight:
I dance with my wife, in dreams every night.
I sing at all times, my words mean naught,
I want to be considered, as having deep thought.
I need to be assured, of my groundless fears!
I pray to be spared, of handicapped years.

I am a Senior set in my ways,
I am a Senior, stubborn and firm.
I am a Senior of advanced years

Rhymer. April 19th, 2018.

Fat ones, thin ones, some either way extreme:
Over weight or under - some slender, in the beam:
Optimist, pessimist, the ridiculously sublime,
Babies, Seniors, others arriving at their prime.
Happy ones, sad ones, dullards thought morose,
Flighty, persistent - sticking to the course!
Tall ones, short ones, others barely seen,
Added to the mix, fit some place in between.
Wise ones, dumb ones, others more intense,
Whilst some will exercise, a little common-sense.
Rambunctious, the quiet - timid as a mouse,
Spinsters, bachelors - they’re without a spouse.
The ugly, the attractive; noisy ones that bawl,
Lithesome, awkward, Nature makes them all!
Spiritualists, agnostics, and heretics join the mix,
Be they pious, or sinful, or mystics full of tricks.
Savage or cultured, coloured, yellow, black or white,
Together in a milling crowd, a kaleidoscopic sight!
Matching the vicious, we find the caring and humane:
The artistic and artisans, compare with those mundane.
Swimmers, jumpers, skiers in their special groove,
Seemingly impassioned, on prowess they’ve to prove!
To walkers and joggers, add the riders on a bike,
A diacritic mixture: there’s seldom two alike!
It’s with this infinite diversity, nature shows her skill,
For what ever class is sought?  One will fit the bill!
But moderation in all things has ever been the best:
For inordinate extremes, stand out from the rest.
Yes Humans are a mixture, of every shape and size,
Descriptions of such as I’ve given, elicit no surprise.
Accepted as the norm, no matter where one goes,
Are universal appendages, which nature will impose.

Rhymer. April 18th, 2018.
Okay Jim, where do you fit into this mix?  Or perhaps I missed your description?  Lol!
Lord help you folks!  I'm on a roll today!

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

If I could see myself through your eyes,
Would I experience a pleasing surprise,
Or be sadly disappointed by what I'd see?
Would I wonder as to how Life might be
To find the man I married; full of vitality,
Replaced by another that today is elderly?

If I could see myself through your adoring eyes,
Would I still be your especial, rare found prize
Or boring dullard, as some might think of me?
Having experienced many years: an eternity,
My set ways and strong held beliefs, vented loud:
Are often heard above the less vocal crowd?

If I could hear myself, through your ears,
Would I remain tuned to my likes and fears?
Ready to listen and comfort, ever paying heed,
When support and consolation, are my need.
Adding subtle nuance to say "I Love You"
A hidden message, known only to us two.

If I could hold myself, as if cuddled in your arms,
Would embraces received, still retain the charms
You offer, or when loving compassion is required,
Respond with empathy as you do? When tired,
\I\/ould I join to face and conquer unexpected woes,
That threaten our loving ties? That, no one knows'

If I could see or relate to myself as you do to me,
Would I be seen more loving. Would you see,
A man with genial ways, showing more caring,
Accepting Life's restraints, and yet, more sharing?
To see me through your discerning eyes, cannot be
I will remain content, to be what you presently see!

Rhymer, March 10th, 2018..

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;
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.  March 5th, 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,
Which makes 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 March 5th, 2018
Just joking folks!

She is the one above all that I adore,
who with love, and so much more,
supports me in my every intent,
seemingly satisfied and content
to spend her days in my company.
The one and only Lass for me,
always there whenever needed!

Like the first flower of promised Spring
her smiling presence is my everything,
for her loving attitude strengthens me.
Guiding and supporting me selflessly,
she’s the ray of sunshine on a rainy day:
or the brightest star, in the Milky Way,
that lifts me up whenever needed!

As we hold hands, our fingers entwine,
facing life’s trials, I know all is fine,
but when she’s away, life is a bore,
and I become a morose, word poor,
moody poet, devoid of inspiration!
My muse in absentia: on vacation!
Her comforting presence, ever needed!

I am unable to explain the reason
why She turns the Winter season
into Spring on entering my room:
lifting my spirits from the gloom
of depression, as my day brightens
and my poetic depression lightens!
Such is Her power: ever needed!

Rhymer.  March 5th, 2018.

When a duelling dual, duel,
and Duello rules hold sway,
should the dual of duellers duelling,
wear doublets to duel that day?

With Duello rules in place,
when duelling triplets duel
are they thought a terzetto trio,
if they follow the Duello rule?

When a quarrelling quartet duel,
do quadrille  rules hold sway?
or should they duel as dual duals,
with dual Duello rules in play?

Duels are only for experts,
there’s a talented skill required..
As only the winner survives,
all losers are deemed expired!

As duelling, passions run fiercely    ,
and a duel oft ends in death,
no matter that Duello rules apply,
a loser always draws his  last breath!

Rhymer. March 1st, 2018.
(On a roll! - Have fun!)

My breath billowed in the winter air,
to hang suspended, and shimmer where,
it drifted as a glittering cloud of frost;
then it was gone! It’s presence lost!

Stamping my feet, for the air is cold,
and I, no more a lad, am growing old,
thought of the days, when we’d feast
on roasted chestnuts, a dozen at least.

Returning home, to warm up inside,
after a pleasant, jingling sleigh ride,
I would marvel at the winter scene,
and how conifers contrasted green,

with the hard whiteness of the snow,
and how winter sun did sharply show
trees in silhouette. Ice that would adorn
the eaves and paddock fence at morn,

was ever a grand sight to behold. A sign
winter was here to stay awhile. Benign
at first, but clouds racing across the sky
foretold snow would, in the short by and by,

fall to gladden the heart of this country boy.
One who accepted Winter’s gifts with joy.
No matter what the  weather might be?

Rhymer. March 1st, 2018.
(Must admit, I'm not so keen on winter now!)
In truth, it was ever a fun time for me!

After seeing a Flea flee,
along with a fast fleeing Fly,
I wondered what Fleas and Flies do
if in fleeing, they flew into a flue?

Now should a fleeing Flea flee,
with a Fly that flies with flu,
does flying with a fleeing Fly,
free the fleeing Fly of the flu?

When seeing a Fly fly into a flue,
followed by a Flea with the flu
does it mean that the Fly that flew
by flying into the flue, was fleeing
from the flu or the Flea with the flu?

When a Flea and Fly are flying
is the Flea fleeing with, or flying from a Fly?  
or was the Fly that flew, fleeing from a Flea?

Or:

When a fleeing fly with the flu, flies into a flue
and a flea with the flu, is fleeing along with the fly
with the flu, into the flue, is the flea flying with
the fly with the flu, into the flue, or is it happenstance?

You tell me! A little bit of fun!

Rhymer.  February 28th. 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.  February 26th, 2018.
The truth and nothing but the truth!

My apologies if this is a repost.

The moon hangs low, o’er the glistening snow,
frost deeply trenchant within.
The cold winds sigh, and brush wolves cry,
so their nightly serenades begin.
The crackling house, the scavenging mouse,
that scuttles away in fright.
For the hoot of an owl, out on the prowl,
warns it’s seeking its prey tonight.

There’s an air of doom in the graveyard gloom:
the church stands quiet in silhouette.
Through rising fog, we hear a barking dog,
smoke spins in pirouette.
The chatter of trees in the soughing breeze,
and sounds of a distant train.
A rabbit’s scream, part of Nature’s scheme:
when the Red Fox kills again.

Roof rafters snap and rattle; soft lowing of cattle,
fowls huddle close in ranks;
ice hangs from gables, over horses in stables,
who stamp feet on wooden planks.
They’re impatient to go, out into the snow,
loving the brisk snap of the air,
but our cat does not aspire, to leave the fire,
or remove itself from my chair.

On a cold winter night with the moon clear and bright,
and stars are twinkling above:
it’s great for viewing; to see what’s brewing,
and a time I enjoy and love.
When the snow lies deep, the world’s asleep,
a pleasure for which I prepare.
Such a starlit night, is a joyous delight,
and a time that’s precious and rare.

Rhymer February 25th, 2018.

When Life hands you a lemon sour,
You're feeling down, demeanour dour,
The day ahead seems dull and grey,
Resolve to be upbeat. Find a way
To think pleasant thoughts. Life is short
And negative thinking? It achieves naught!
Resolve to give yourself a treat,
Ponder on things pleasantly sweet:
Soon the sun will disperse the cloud
The day will brighten: sing aloud.
Crack a joke: take time to smile,
See the blues depart in a while.
Abandon your feelings of woe,
Return to living. Here's how you go:
Take the lemon, though sour it is
Squeeze hard, add sugar and fizz,
Brew yourself a tonic or elixir,
Then drink deep! It's a real Life fixer!

Rhymer February 25th, 2018.

Or
An Overnight Romance.

We met by chance in a shopping mall,
Could see you were “special,” the best of all.
I made my advances, which rang your bell,
That you liked me too, was easy to tell.

I said but little, as we walked round and about,
So took you home, for I had nary a doubt,
That you were ideal for an intimate tete a tete,
Being totally convinced our meeting was fate.

I sat on the couch, with you snuggled up tight,
That my arms now held you, seemed so right.
When it grew late, I suggested we share a bed:
With no objection from you, we went ahead.

I laid you down gently, holding you tightly,
And this passionate moment, seemed rightly,
One we should follow, for we thought it okay!
So every night, I cuddle up to my new duvet!

Rhymer.  February 19th, 2018.

Lo!  Behold the morning with such beauteous delight.
See diaphanous filaments bestrewn with beads of dew,
sparkling their display of every shade of prismatic hue,
exalting the spider’s art, woven throughout the night!

Lo!  See the wraiths of mist, slowly rising from the river bed,
whilst apparent rootless reeds, seen on either bank,
stand like ephemeral ghosts!  The air though heavy and dank
becomes alive with a myriad of creatures.  For the night has fled!

Lo!  Hear the clear crystal sounds which bid the new day awaken.
The crowing ****, the raucous cawing crow, the mourning dove,
all borne upon the breeze, which routs reluctant clouds above.
Once again with the breaking dawn perceived, darkness is overtaken!

Lo!  Give thanks for the wakening of sleeping souls once more,
for having survived the unknown perils of the past night.
Arising to witness another day graced by Dawn’s early light,
we are aware that the awaiting day invites us to come; explore!

Rhymer.  February 11th, 2018

I’ve tried Haiku - what a tricky “to do:”
Then there’s Tanka: this I’ll likely eschew.
Cinquain though another different form
Is to this poor poet, more true to norm,
And better suited to my proclivity!

Though Blank or Free Verse; even Prose,
Possesses an appeal: it’s a different pose.
Though it allows freedom of expression:
It’s not for me. Rhyming, is my obsession,
Suits me better; panders to my creativity.

So many genres, some of which I’ve tried:
But all too often, my over excited Muse, died;
Left struggling with a message, still unsaid.
Shortly thereafter find all inspiration dead.
Not the best way to ensure productivity!

So Tanka, Cinquain, Haiku or whatever?
It surely takes someone smart and clever
To emulate the Japanese.  Those wily men,
Who write their poetry with brush - not pen,
Yet retain their sense of rational relativity!

Rhymer February 4th, 2018

This poem is about nothing. I’ve naught to say:
No message to impart, as is my inimitable way.
I espouse no moral ground on which to stand,
No political axe to grind: please do understand.,
I’ve no religious viewpoints to get across,
As for thoughts on world affairs? I’m at a loss
To explain.  I’ll let the words flow as they will
I’ve no intent to let strong passions over spill
Into extravagant prose. I’ll allow no obsession:
Nor wax eloquently to promote aggression
Or on other matters about which I’m obsessed!
I’ve no personal indiscretions to be confessed:
I’ll write not of ill health, love, death or hate:
Nor to being consumed about something I ate.
With no cause to promote or examine moral rights:
Or reason to comment on other illicit delights.
I’ll not write on poverty nor warming climate change!
Though by a poem on “Nothing,” I restrict the range
Addressed.  Forsooth I must confess, my true reason
For a poem on “Nothing” is boredom with winter’s Season!
Being thoroughly tired of snow; ice and bitter Arctic cold,
Writing this poem, is “Nothing” but a sure sign I grow old!

Rhymer.  February 2nd, 2018.

While Mr. Bartlett was heard to declare,
"I will be famous.  I've found a new pear!"
He was nothing compared to Mr. Newton,
Who found the first fig tree with some fruit on!
When next in a biscuit, he rolled it*,
Enhancing its flavour.  Gourmets extolled it!
Next came a gardener who saw the rain
Run off apples he grew.  Leaving no stain!
Seeing their clean red skin, remarked "Oh Gosh!"
The right name for this brand is "MacIntosh!"
Next came a woman who reached her zenith
When they named a green apple, "Granny Smith!".
With even complexion, and no rumpling,
‘Twas an apple perfect for making a dumpling!
Then a little girl not to be outdone,
Said to her Father in a bit of fun,
I’d like to name that sweet English plum.
I’ll call it Victoria, after my dear old Mum!
Next a sweet, red cherry, they named Bing,
After a soft crooner who loved to sing,
Who cares if it's true? At least it’s romantic.
Besides, let’s not be too pedantic!
Was this how most fruit names were given?
First, folks found they were resolutely driven
To put their name to a specific fruit.
Then came others who quickly followed suit!
Whether we like the results, most agree,
It's how some things are named.  Will always be!
But should you develop a fruit like a pear,
Your name must be worthy for it to bear.
Can you imagine the grief begotten
If your name should  be Ava Rotten?!

Rhymer . February 2nd, 2018.

Just a few days ago, walking down the main street,
an old friend and acquaintance, I happened to meet.
As is my usual way, I asked him “Was he well?”
The way folks do, when they haven’t met for a spell.
“Oh pretty good” he said.  It’s the standard reply,
then before I could continue to walk on by,
he stood in my path, putting a hand on my wrist,
and his various troubles proceeded to list!
“You know of course, I lost the sight of my right eye”
“when a stone flew from a truck which was passing by,”
“and there is my left leg, which is still bruised and sore.”
“Doctor says it will be at least a month or more”
“before it’s healed, but now I can walk without a crutch”
“and my arm is much better.  It doesn’t hurt so much.”
“Not like my back, which aches all day and night long:”
“it needs an operation, once they find out what’s wrong!”
“Getting to sleep at night is very difficult.”
“I’ve had X-rays taken, but there’s been no results!”
Then sighing deeply, he continued to list thus:
“my ulcers are painful, but I’m not one to fuss,”
“but I do have to be careful of what I eat each day."
“My allergies trigger my asthma, but that’s okay,”
“for I’m almost rid of the influenza I had.”
“What’s more, my ingrowing toenail is not as bad.”
“Right now I’m off to have my aching tooth removed.”
“But good news is, my prosthesis has been approved!”
“Now I see my bus is coming, so I must dash!”
Turning, he fell on some ice.  Went down with a crash!
With that I slipped away from the gathering crowd,
for I heard some concerned person ask him, out loud:
“Do you feel all right?  Are you hurt in anyway,”
and I wasn’t staying to hear what he had to say.
So off I hurried down the street.: I almost flew,
until I spotted another acquaintance I once knew.
Just as I was about to call out “Hello” as a greeting,
I recalled what happened with my last meeting,
so biting my tongue, I quickly turned and fled!
Better I hear of his problems, after he’s dead!

Rhymer. January 31swt, 2018.

Do the dreams we encounter through the night
Echo a past indiscretion, or delight?
Sleeping, do we recall times we treasure?
Brief shadows which remark some past pleasures?

Could they be of a life, we lived before?
Such dreams, upon which some folks set great store,
Appear as scattered fragments of the great unknown!
Unlike past predictions found carved in stone.

Dreams?  Transient illusions of the mind!
Their being?   We’ve no answer there to find!
A message? None but trifling amusement.
Worthless, they contrive their own bemusement!

Born of our fertile imagination,
Appearing without co-ordination
Escaping from the mind’s peregrinations,
Feigning authentic prognostications!

While Charlatans promote these dreams as fact,
And seek simple, trusting minds to impact!
Others dismiss them with cynicism and disdain!
Still there are those with honest doubt, that remain!

When next, dreams turn to nightmares!   We’re left confused!
Tormented minds seek explanations?  Infused
With false premonitions, these singular thoughts
Offend our beliefs! But before it thwarts

Objectives, and we search for clues not there.
We must guard against deceit!  Have a care.
For dreams, are empty echoes of the mind!
This is the only answer I can find.

Rhymer.  January 31st, 2018