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martin Jul 2015
A family of farmers near there be
That treateth all folk kindily
Who follow by the chapel creed
And gladly lend a hand to those in need
Three brothers are they in truth
No longer in the prime of youth
Though the father is still alive
And longer may he live and thrive

On the corner with his wife there be
A farmer now retired comfortably
Often when he sees folks walk
He stops his car to have a talk
Common sense he has in good measure
And to hear him always is a pleasure

Another farmer too lives off the layne
With his wife, the same again
They have two cottages they rent out
As well as sundry acres round about
Which bring them rent into their hand
And so they live off the fat of the land

A woman lives half way down our layne
Her husband died which was a shame
She must have shed many tears
For he was only sixty-five in years
But she does not live alone
Her daughter lives with her at home
She keeps her house as would a saint
No cracks in walls or flaking paint
Like a wooden ship of old
It faces out on fields that gently fold
Also she has her parents there
In a barn converted with great care

And then we have a bungalow I say
Where the father works on the farm all day
He drives a tractor he calls his own
And they have two boys now fully grown

There is a little cottage at the end
Where the owners like to spend
A day or two to come to stay
For they are vets and work away

Then there is us here as well
But for sure truth to tell
You know me well enough I fear
So I'll not describe myself just here
martin Jul 2015
The three toed sloth
Rhymes with goth
Or is it oath

Moves slowly

Sometimes algae grows on his head
Joni Mitchell didn't mean him
when she said

Wild things run fast
Randy, three toed sloth,
he'd come last

Once a week he climbs down from his tree
And that's to have a poo
and ***

Now even sloths get amorous
But *** is tricky up a tree
He moves too quick, he's not used to it
And hits the ground involuntarily

Randy broke his arm
Some people fixed it
with titanium

So he can resume his slothful days
But he's more careful now
in his loving ways
sloth sanctuary
Costa Rica
re-work of an earlier post
martin Jun 2015
Let me tell you about old Stanley.

He delivered papers six days a week, then on Sundays his round was even longer. At one time he used to work nights as well, as a night watchman up at the TV mast. Getting paid to sleep!

Stanley grew up in the economically depressed 1930's, which I guess explains a lot.

I did a job for him once, and he settled up from a plastic bag of £1 coins he had been hiding under some old sacks in his shed.

He kept a tidy veggie garden, but was reluctant to spend any money on the house. The outside was shabby and the inside was spartan in the extreme.

Everyone liked Stanley though. He was always cheerful with a ready smile and wave. As the years passed I noticed with some sadness that he was struggling with a limp. Eventually of course, he went the way of all flesh.

Now the veggie garden is overgrown. The house is under offer. His boy has bought himself a big new 4x4 and is planning to build a house in Thailand with his new partner.

Well someone had to spend it...
martin Jun 2015
On Bosworth field the die was cast
As banners flapped and arrows flew
The King of England breathed his last
A new one crowned before the day was through

Spewing lead the canons roared
Armour glinting in the light
When Henry's banner Richard saw
He led his men into the fight

The standard bearer he cut down
Then ten feet from his foe it's said
His horse got mired in boggy ground
So failed the charge that he had led

As Henry's men surrounded him
Richard stood his ground and said
I shall not flee, I'll die a King
England's crown upon my head

For the House of York the cause had failed
His skull was smashed, the deed was done
The House of Lancaster prevailed
On Bosworth field the war was lost and won
The battle of Bosworth Field, 1485, was the decisive battle ending the English Civil War, known as the War of the Roses, fought between the houses of Lancaster and York. It was the end of Richard III's reign, the last of the Plantagenets, and the beginning of the Tudor period with Henry VII.

Richard's body was slung over a horse and taken to Leicester where it was put on public display before being buried in an unmarked grave. Only recently in 2012 was the body re-discovered, under a large letter R written on the ground, under a car park. His remains have been re-interred in Leicester cathedral.


-An extract from the poem Bosworth Fielde-
The form and content indicate that it was written within living memory of the battle, probably by an eye-witness;

“Heere is thy horsse att thy hand readye;
another day thou may thy worshipp win,
& ffor to raigne with royaltye,
to weare the crowne, and be our King.”

he said, “giue me my battell axe to my hand,
sett the crowne of England on my head soe hye!
ffor by him that shope both sea and Land,
King of England this day I will dye!
martin Jun 2015
When the glass runs out of sand
Gently guide me through the night
Sit by me and hold my hand
Be my comfort and my light

Gently guide me through the night
Let us chase the shadows down
Be my comfort and my light
Let me see you smile not frown

Let us chase the shadows down
Though I see your eyes do weep
Let me see you smile not frown
Until such time as we may sleep

Though I see your eyes do weep
Sit by me and hold my hand
Until such time as we may sleep
When the glass runs out of sand
martin Jun 2015
Concealed amid the Summer green
As stars await their turn to shine
The thrush sings thrice his song unseen
And we would like to hold back time

As stars await their turn to shine
We want his song to never stop
And we would like to hold back time
As another cork we pop

We want his song to never stop
We hope for shooting stars up high
As another cork we pop
Watch nature's fireworks in the sky

We hope for shooting stars up high
The thrush sings thrice his song unseen
Watch nature's fireworks in the sky
Concealed amid the Summer green
A pantoum poem consists of 4 or more stanzas.
Each stanza has an ABAB rhyme pattern.
The 2nd and 4th line of each stanza is re-used as the 1st and 3rd line of the next stanza.
The pattern goes on for as long as you like until the last stanza, where the 2nd line and 4th line are re-cycled from the first stanza. The first line of the poem becomes the last line, and the 3rd line of the poem is repeated as the 2nd line of the last stanza.
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