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Rob Jan 21
Et in Arcadia badly bruised ego,
Treeing up the wrong bark, headwards into the trash-can,
My obsessive jigsaw-being, pieces ceased to fit long ago,
Cleverly I snip and cheat, what a charlatan!
My monstrous vanity, how wilfully I let it grow,
Mon Dieu! what a puffy-faced, skin a-sagging conman!

My hallowed education, so proud in my learning,
With near perfect syntax, well sin-tax!
    Embracing any seedy swingers-club, so charming!
About wisdom, the true intelligence, I am so lax,
Ever alone, fearful of any emotional caning,
Divorced from all realities, way too complex!

What now my future, a svelte *******?
Or perpetual bit-part actor, murmurs the jury,
Condemned to be a rough-shod ploughboy,
A mere half-brick in a wall of sound and fury,
No cloistered quad, or brain-storming salvo,
What now a Pedants Revolt, or intellectual menagerie?

The mirror tells no lies,
Ability inexorably led me to something so lowly,
Blindfold no longer, revealed a ruined Bridge of Sighs,
No heady aroma of beeswax and leather, and so lonely!
Unmasked my whole flawed self, which I despise,
Adrift in the cruellest of seas, so vile and unsightly

The mirror tells no lies,
No more deceits, and surely no surprise?

© Rob perspiring poet
Light hearted bit of fun.  Not to be taken too seriously!
Dec 2020 · 144
Our Love
Rob Dec 2020
The stars naughtily play hide and seek,
A dark game of trickery and deceit,
But our love is forever sunshine and moonlight

Tides remorselessly ebb and flow,
Leaving pristine sands with no prints to follow,
But our love will never be washed away

Trees bud and then burst into leaf,
And inexorably fall in Autumnal grief,
But our love only knows Spring and Summer

After blissful cloudless days, sunset is alas inevitable,
Darkness readily follows gloom, so predictable!
But our love bathes only in the glory of sunrise

© Rob perspiring poet
A bit more light hearted and fun that some of my more recent offerings. Fun is good!
Dec 2020 · 64
Big Mac
Rob Dec 2020
Munching my Big Mac, I mused, whilst adjusting my thong,
Was Flora MacDonald a daughter, perhaps Ronald a brother?
Busily rowing and singing the Skye Boat Song,
Is this the origin of the Drive-Thru? as ketchup I smother,
Poor Bonnie Prince Charlie, only a tiny army he brought along,
His seed he did naughtily scatter, sod the crown! too much bother!

So, tout-de-suite, legged it back to France,
Then expresso to Italy, as pasta-masta, bathed in a vat of sauce,
And led poor wife Princess Louise a merry dance,
Badly afflicted with wandering hands, showing no remorse,
His behaviour was shocking, tut-tutting the Pope looked askance,
Formed a sub-committee, tasked with strict morals to enforce

Laying on his deathbed, he tearfully imagined a whispered refrain,

Will ye no’ come back again?
Will ye no’ come back again?
Better lo’ed ye canna be,
Will ye no’ come back again?

(This chorus Carolina Baroness Nairne)
Another bit of silliness! Well why not it's Friday?
Dec 2020 · 63
How Sad!
Rob Dec 2020
My sad world I can no longer protect,
No more delivered eggs! so I have to Cluck and Collect!
Can't help feeling somebody, somewhere has already thought of this bit of silliness. If so apologies
Dec 2020 · 54
Swanning about!
Rob Dec 2020
I am now an Honorary Fellow of a college somewhere,
But nobody tells me what I am to do! ******!
Best that I swan about, quietly munching on a pear,
Hang on! already do that, not giving a ****!

Too many pears, however, give me colic,
I double up in pain, that lasts all morning,
And bang goes my next naked frolic!
Perhaps swanning about needs a health warning?

No! what I lack is money, and possibly a purpose in life,
For sale! a barely used yak herder’s tent,
Mmm lovely! but not really me, better find a rich wife!
Then give up pears! and swan about, so smug and content.
Sometimes I torture myself finding the right word or rhyme. The opposite with this.  A news item piqued my interest and I fired this straight off. Have not changed a word. Perhaps some will argue that I should! But such a relief to get something down on paper without too much stress or agony.
Nov 2020 · 282
My Love
Rob Nov 2020
As mighty Autumn winds blow, my love is stubbornly valiant,
And trees crash with utmost ease, my love is proudly fearless,
As the cruel Winter snow falls, my love is bravely defiant,
And faunae small and large hide, my love is dauntless.

As Spring floods wreak havoc, my love is storm-proof,
And as desolation follows desolation, my love is so heroic,
As Summer relentlessly burns, my love remains coolly aloof,
And as the licking flames run and run, my love is far too quick.

The seasons readily come and go,
This is heaven’s natural order,
Rain, storm, heat, frost, wind, snow,
For us to watch, marvel and ponder.

Many things prosper and then wither,
But my love – (be it icily cold, in an endless fiery haze,
or Biblical flood, in foul fogs that greedily smother) -
will endure until the end of all days.
A bit sunnier than my last effort This Restless, Unquiet Love.
Oct 2020 · 139
This Restless Unquiet Love
Rob Oct 2020
This restless unquiet love, rages like a torrent from the mountain above,
With an almighty roar and bellow, in torment I helplessly wallow,
Scarred by an iron-****** glove, spirit broken like a wingless turtle dove,
Am I brave enough to let my blood flow? by a blade I too readily know

Will I ever be at peace? am I another victim of love’s caprice?
Canute-like, I battle a tide of despair, bruised perhaps beyond repair,
I await trial, a sacrificial centrepiece, in a court where I have no voice,
A bat-squeak whispers salvation I swear, there is still hope I declare!

Courage shall be my redemption! cowardice banished without hesitation!
Faith swells my strength mightily, victory assured I prophesy,
Prayer heralds a blinding vision, a heavenly banner that is no illusion,
“Love did not abandon you we clearly see, you cast it aside without mercy”

I wearily prostrate before the Almighty -

Yes, one brutal rejection,
Which became a prelude,
To a near lifetime of dejection,
A sad waste, but less painful this way, I tearfully conclude
****** hard to write this one! Needed to get it out of my system.  Hope it not to raw to read. My next poem My Love is almost finished. Will not publish it until I have devoted more time to reading your work. Only a beginner at this and I really do appreciate your kind words.
Oct 2020 · 103
So Many Colours
Rob Oct 2020
Red is the mist that too often descends,
Beige alas the colour of my teeth,
Tan, sadly I only ever burn,
Orange my fake perma-tan

Black my mood on a Monday morning,
White are the lies when I ring in sick!
Blue are the films I secretly watch,
Cerise, not a clue but sounds lovely!

Purple my boozers nose,
Scarlet somebody, from Gone with the Wind I think,
Violet missing an ‘n’,
Cream strictly rationed because of my diabetes!

Green my perpetual envy,
Tangerine, something else to hate at Christmas,
Burgundy, sorry ******* at geography,
Lilac, far too trendy for me!

Azure are the skies I miss from childhood,
Sapphire so very precious!
Cerulean, now I am being a smart-***!
Yellow the starting gun for me to run away

Indigo, when my snooker potting is on fire!
Pink, the ball I always miss,
Navy, something the Swiss don’t have,
Chocolate, something the Swiss do have

Brown the awful jumpers Mum used to knit,
Russet, used to be a tiny English County?
Emerald, a lovely girl I once dated,
Aquamarine such a delicate sea-sick tint

Puce, or do I mean puke, something I do after a skinful
Maroon rhymes with macaroon!
Crimson, I guilty blush when I pass wind!
Grey (never gray!), my hated school uniform

Ruby, any glass of port in a storm!
Auburn, I really love her films!
Lime, lovely with gin & tonic, especially in Vienna Harry! **, **!
Turquoise bruises, no stranger to these after a few too many
A bit of throwaway fun!  I started writing a poem called This Restless Unquiet Love but gone bogged down.
Oct 2020 · 495
From A Far Distant Star
Rob Oct 2020
From a far distant star, shines a piercing light,
And blankets me in a soft warm glow, that speaks only of love
I stretch out, striving to touch what surely is my birth right
Will this always be denied, until I am in heaven above?

Dear Lord, have you forsaken me?
Please gift me my own bright light,
I would willingly beam out for eternity,
Until I find that elusive love, and darkness makes way for daylight

I pray this is not false hope, I would embrace mere possibility,
So that I could joyously proclaim, like a springtime dove -
That my light shines back so mightily!
And blankets us in a soft warm glow, that speaks only of our love
This is my 9th poem.  When I have written the next one I will have my hair cut.  I look an absolute pillock!  The next one is called This Restless Unquiet  Love.  It is somewhat raw and personal and I am struggling to get the words down.  Good therapy though!
Sep 2020 · 63
My Lost Loves
Rob Sep 2020
I remember, sometimes tearfully, my lost loves in fleeting, small pleasures –
In the warm, half smile of a stranger,
Or the musky fragrance of a fairy-tale dell,
In misty-eyed remembrance of a childhood manger,
Or the radiance of a sunset that gently whispers farewell

I remember, sometimes tearfully, my lost loves in fleeting, small pleasures –
In a stroll along the shore of Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Or a glance at once shared rows of prose and poetry,
In pictures and photos that stir fond memory,
Or clothes I dare not discard, still arranged in perfect symmetry

I remember, sometimes tearfully, my lost loves in fleeting, small pleasures –
In postcards and letters, so beautifully written,
Or scent that still sweetly fills a room,
In cherished rings once exchanged, my I was so young and smitten!
Or spices and herbs, joyously used in meals always eager to consume

I remember, sometimes tearfully, my lost loves in fleeting, small pleasures –
In myriad CD’s, too rarely played, even some stray cassettes!
Or phone calls, often painfully hurried, with friends and family,
In the faintest lingering aroma from shamefaced cigarettes,
Or quirky cafes and bars, often chaotic but oh so lovely!

I remember, sometimes tearfully, my lost loves in fleeting, small pleasures,
But Dear Lord, I am at peace, these memories are sacred, holy treasures
The feeling of loss is sometimes difficult to express. May be remembered in odd or trivial ways.
Sep 2020 · 783
Rob Sep 2020
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Pristine sands aglow under a deep blue sky,
Crabbing and kite flying, every day a perpetual cream tea,
Never mind the bites and stings, the sunburn and occasional tears, the hours flew deliciously by,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood

Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Endless games and innocent playful frolics,
Hide and seek in the dunes, eyes barely covered and a speedy count to twenty,
Mum and Dad fussing and fretting, always late for the midday picnics,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood

Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Rainy days didn’t stop the fun, funfairs and arcades beckoned,
Never managed to hook those ****** cuddly toys, made Dad so angry!
Waste of time and money Mum always reckoned,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood

Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea,
Harmless nostalgia or dangerous reverie?
Perhaps things were never as I imagined them to be,
But I ache for those happier days, and ease this endlessly painful adult misery,
Oh how I yearn for Serendipity-by-the-Sea, in sweet memory of a lost childhood
Another stab at something more substantial and serious
Sep 2020 · 88
The Winter Queen
Rob Sep 2020
How pale our beloved Winter Queen, a king’s daughter so regal in velveteen,
Close to the hearts of all Bohemia, their own beautiful Ophelia,
Amidst strife and slaughter remains so serene, sentinel to a violence so obscene,
A perpetual fog of melancholia, a swirling panicked hysteria
How pale our beloved Winter Queen

White Mountain ends thy brief reign, The Hague becomes your exiled demesne,
Born into revered royal halls, sweet memory stirs of childhood *****,
In sadness you must remain, and witness a Thirty Years brutal campaign,
That pits father against son and truly appals, as blood flows like raging waterfalls,
How pale our beloved Winter Queen

How pale our beloved Winter Queen, a king’s sister whose fate she could not have foreseen,
Robbed of Frederick so dearly loved, 30 years of grieving and pious devotion to the Almighty above,
Returning to the land of your birth not seen since sixteen, your Restoration role only a fleeting scene,
Blessed is your dynastic treasure trove, as we still kiss your royal hand inside its bejewelled glove.
How pale our beloved Winter Queen
A stab at something more serious and substantial. Always been fascinated by the story of Elizabeth Stuart, the Winter Queen.
Aug 2020 · 67
Has Love Passed Me By?
Rob Aug 2020
I weep and weep again, a sad realisation, that love has passed me by,
Have I been unlucky, or was it my foolishness and conceit?
Ever seeking a perfection, an elusiveness I was too proud to deny,
My ardour and dreams have been pure deceit,
Has love passed me by?

Bitter tears flow and flow, and I angrily remonstrate, that love has passed me by,
Too late now, so many chances have faded, and lay dead,
My heart once full of hope, has long ****** happiness a painful goodbye,
I cloak myself in a fearful and perpetual dread,
Has love passed me by?

I spiral down and down, bitterly aware, that love has passed me by,
Do I have the courage to seek solace in the blade?
Or is there still a flickering light, that may yet herald a joyous lullaby,
I fall to my knees, and cry aloud, has someone heard my heartfelt serenade,
And perhaps love has not passed me by?
My first stab at something more serious.  Not by usual throwaway style. Think I may have been listening to Leonard Cohen more than is healthy!
Jun 2020 · 89
Blade Runner
Rob Jun 2020
In bounds the surgeon, scalpel aloft, in baton salute to Michael Johnston,
I await, wired in rainbow colours, a delicious lobotomy,
He booms booms his hellos, a cheerful echo of a cake crumbed Brian Johnston
My my this will be a job!, mmm yes there is an awful lot of me.

I admire his impeccable attire, head to toe, a neo Don Johnston,
Any last wishes he cheerfully asks, perhaps a nice cup of tea?
He circles and wafts scent and soap, courtesy of Johnston & Johnston,
As I slowly and slowly drift off into hyper monotony.
Another bit of nonsense.  In a silly mood today.  Cheered up today with news of a tax rebate!
Rob Jun 2020
In hyperspace, how cool to be in a *******, as we hurtle towards the Sun,
But as the parsecs fly by, even such naughtiness becomes just a little boring,
We giggle and wish for an alien to join the fun,
Imagine our delight as a strange craft begins mooring.

Who, and what are you, we exclaim,
I am boy or girl, man or woman, ever willing and never beaten,
Will you join with us, we say in winking refrain,
Imagine our surprise, as we cheerfully entwine, and one by one are slowly eaten.
Sorry! Just a bit of throwaway fun in these difficult days.
Rob Jun 2020
Queuing in a rain-lashed drive-thru, I marvel at their efficiency,
Hour after hour, smile after smile, they wish me a happy day,
Too much ice again my cola!, as my bladder screams for a ***,
A drive-thru ****** would be a swell idea, I hear someone say,
But, what if I need a poo?, cheekily thinks me,
Perhaps then they will me a ***** day!
Sorry, a bit of throwaway fun in these troubled times
May 2020 · 76
Rob May 2020
My first poetry baby steps!


Stretched out on his scaffold, **** this ****** ceiling, exclaimed Michelangelo,
Would be far better done in woodchip and vinyl matt,
So bored was he that he invented a game called Bingo!,
Full house! Full house! he cried out aloud, and then fell and landed with an almighty splat.
Bit of lighthearted fun

— The End —