"bonhomie" poems
One evening
after work
I began to walk
from the railway station
along the footpath
joining an acquaintance
on the way
to accompany and converse
amicably I thought
at first
but he became aloof
and hostile
ignoring my bonhomie
why
I had no idea
so crossed the road
estranged
shocked and ashamed.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
*In the garden of Humanity
Plant more bonhomie
Love will blossom
The landscape will change
Fragrance and love all around
Colors will blend, celebrating all
The celestial space will rejoice
As happiness knows no bounds*
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
Everyone is fighting a duel with life
Debating with it has its merits
We may arrive at a conclusion
To a point of agreement
Where we can live next to each other
With harmony and bonhomie
Life may tilt towards you
Or, away from you
But you are the pivot
To make it balance
Good wishes sail us through
Let’s us pass through tribulations
Challenges are softened
With the soft embrace of wishes
Family, friends and acquaintances
Spurn not anytime
When someone sends wishes
We cannot have enough
In our life
The best wishes of our well-wishers
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
Vanilla vowels
and creamy colored consonants
Naughty or nutty nouns
of almonds, apples, apricots
Aphrodisiac adjectives
and very berry adverbs
Passion fruit phrases
pirouette like peaches in thought
A pomegranate patter
that pronounces a pronoun
Or perhaps in veiled vines
velvet verbs purr
Wondrously whipped
words of love
Salacious sentences
with strawberry stirred
A mellowed musk melon
of a metaphor
A salubrious simile
sits like a sapote crown
Amorous alliterative adventures
with romance and raisins
An ooh la la of orange oomph
onomatopoeic sounds
An orchard of the alphabets
in a fruity potpourri of speech
A bearish pearish play and
plum pun on words
The language of love
written with love
In this hash mash
bonhomie
Valentine verse
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC
All the glitter and the baubles and the fake razzamataz,
Forced jollity and bonhomie berating me by turns;
The jostling and shoving in the shops and all that jazz,
The same unwanted present where the giver never learns;
And I will dream of summer, tidal ripples in the sand
An evening's float of thistledown adrift in hazy sky
The small face of a daisy, lying cool against my hand
The vast coastal horizon, where the seagulls swoop and fly.
You can keep your holly wreaths mourning your lack of taste
You can keep Sir Clifford, all the mistletoe and wine
You can stuff the turkey, lay the hangover to waste,
You can keep your sentimental dreams, leave me to mine...
Just let me dream of summer, how I miss its warming light;
The soothing breath of lavender, the grass beneath my feet;
The bright palette of verdant greens, the shorter hours of night;
I'll deck the halls with roses, daffodils and meadowsweet.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 3:51 AM UTC
Ignite the burning desire to dispel darkness
Deep within your heart to light up the path
Leading to a world full of love and bonhomie
So many minds still stranded in dark streets
With the passion to create widespread mayhem
From darkness they return to darkness
Dying a forlorn death, misdirected existence
Unaware of the warmth of positive zeal
Reach out to them, pass on the light
Give them a direction, to the path of tranquility
Every measured step leading to secured future
Our posterity is holding our hands for direction
If we not lead them to a better world
Then who else will take the onus to dispel darkness
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Evening's soul rests on dark, light, shades
even as shadows fall on streets
even as the drunk starts ululating.
Evening has a soul, and in it impinges
past.
In Evenings I just want thoughts to saunter.
Nascent. And in evening the ghoul starts talking
and the owl serenading. Dogs and ******* give moaning
catcalls, to signify their presence, that they are living
like me and you.
Evenings do a turn around as darkness spreads
into my body. I weave unbecoming fantasies.
Taking a blank paper for my mind to write.
Evening stares at philosophy, monotony
and rush of vehicles stampede thoughts.
Evenings go berserk with street lights
and quiet bonhomie.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
*Let the playgrounds be there for children
Hosting games which are played fairly
Formative minds exercising for healthy future
Open grounds let’s them breathe fresh air
Embracing bonhomie and fair play
Giving equal opportunity and space to each other
Playgrounds will nurture the formative years
Learning to play with dignity throughout life
Growing up to be torchbearers of the nation
Healthy mind resides in a healthy body
Playgrounds be the venue for diverse congregation
Spreading the message that games are not trivial
So many feuds are resolved with dignity
Children can teach the art of resolving strife
A playground can be the hallmark for diversity
Giving equal opportunity to all the players
Let’s not botch up every possible place for our needs
In the name of development, only concrete structures
Only meandering roads leading nowhere
Let the playgrounds be there for children*
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
At the East End Cafe
a Canadian folksinger
strums up a storm
on a guitar-
a bargain guitar-
he got $1000 off the price of it
We don’t know any of his songs
Locals tap their feet
to his rhythms
talk to people
they talk to every day
but louder tonight
fuelled by beer and wine
and a determined bonhomie
Ange and her girls
cook up a storm
behind the counter
serve us steaks
and real pizzas
and creme brulee
Late night kids
stroll outside
peer in - curious-
at the unaccustomed goings on
Beyond the plateglass windows
the inside lights
orange globes
reflect in the darkness
like floating pumpkins
I know the river lies out there
just moving on down to the sea
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
They came for a half-term party
swarmed around me like instant charisma
wearing face-masks of Mourinho
I couldn't move - there was no place to go
I was taken back to when I was eighteen
misspent youth frittered away so they say
wished I was back there with them all
but it was gone - I couldn't any more
I couldn't be in love every other day
make outrageous comments, buy things on e-bay
not so many spots to pick at present
however, no jealousy, nothing to resent
I soaked up their bonhomie once more
gave a faint smile when I walked out the door
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
And when i first met you, you had this genuine bonhomie vibe about you, and your words were so sincere.. as well as gentle, kind, and soft just like your touch, but as time kept passing your inner soul kept decaying.
and your words became unclear and the feelings that were once there began to fade.
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
He will never get over losing her
Why should he?
She was the best that ever happened to him
He was free back then
The world on a string
With hope and clarity
But it all came crashing down
Take a look
No more fancy-free
He remembers the passion
Her knowing looks
The bonhomie
He's not the same old guy
He lost a piece of his heart
She's not coming back
It's misery
Here is the photo he took of her
It's a study to delight
That winsome smile
The sparkling eyes
Taken when things were right
He's frozen for a moment
Reveling in that time
But memories only go so far
Love can be unkind
He won't get over her
His love will never die
The best is in the past
Hear his lonesome cry
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
The first words spoken
May not have been this
Evolved over the centuries
What would we do without words?
They are ubiquitous-
In our thoughts
In our minds
In our expression
In our eyes
In our soul
In the scripts
In science
In the folklore
In the myths
In the mysteries
In the signs
In the poetry
In the prose
In philosophy
In the cave drawings
In the hieroglyphs
Words evolved and added
By the Bards of yesteryear
From whom we have inherited
Many new we have coined
Reading their words of wisdom
Words give solace
Words sometimes hurt
Our dreams have words
And words shall remain
Passed on through scripts
And through oral tradition
Carrying the rich heritage
For centuries to come
Above all, speak words that heal
And tales of mankind's bonhomie!
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
No need to flick the **** out of this monster
standing on a podium above our heads
looking down in distaste at what we, the poor, can do
or not do! Fodder, we are, trampled into stacks, rolled
into wretched bales and stacked skyhigh
on machines that run through precision.
Once done, they stand above and lord
over their handiwork as we
the minions, muscled in on our lives
struggle to keep the factories going
feeding the fat bellies and guns
that will silence others across the thin divide
of territorial useless wars
Once in a while the fucktories will open
and spew many newborn into the guts
and glory for the motherland where birth
and bread are numbered and named with
berets and bonhomie, pretend play
at camaraderie. We perish unwept
at the crack of dawn and gunfire in long lines
on a battlefield where ideals are shouted
and gas chambers await dissent.
Driven like oxen to the national abbatoir
hair, teeth and nails collected, bones crushed
for gelatine soup and flesh shredded
for fertilisers to grow more cattle
to be fed more hay
to man the factories and fucktories
to make more children
to polish the forces
to line up and lament our lot
Switch off the power.
Switch off the power
Switch off the power
Switch off the power..........
Author Notes
The revolution takes a step back to WW11.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
True Faith and Allegiance
A retired admiral peddles insurance to
“My fellow veterans,” still ripping off
The enlisted with bogus bonhomie
About how they all were merry shipmates
Retired generals ooze into something new
Suits for the business of dealing in souls
Souls bought and sold internationally
Where careless talk could cost discreet kickbacks
The surviving enlisted, wounded and sick,
Are doled out vouchers for a bus ride home
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
Each bone of you I know
She does this charming rebuke
Such bone warming words
Making no bones about it!
This is her warm assurance
Her ways of bonhomie
That the bond, gelled, *****
Is now bone-a-fide!
So whenever she says
I know each bone of you
I bask in the pleasure
Bathe in the sunshine
Sit back and reap fully
The bone-nanza
Of an ever rewarding bone-d-age!
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
I'd like you all to be happy.
If I could erase your secret apprehensions,
and kiss your lives better,
I would.
It's not that easy.
When my needs conflict with the general good,
and require me to offend,
I do.
I cannot be a prisoner of your expectations.
When my limited stocks of bonhomie are exhausted,
and contempt suggests I scream,
I will.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
Left for Goa with some trepidation,
Consoled Wifi and Boss
that, will resume service
with renewed vigour after 17.
On to the Re-Union.
It's been some time
since have met those guys,
and there are few girls too..
Some of them I knew
Some were acquaintances..
On to the Re-Union.
Did not know what we would do,
just a few rounds of drinks,
and old memories rekindled ,
was all I expected.
Yeah... On to the Re-Union.
Arrived a day late
and on to the contrary,
the excitement palpitated
through my rather smart phone
of the party already, started.
Instant messages throwing images
of bonhomie and ribaldry..
Ahaa its the Re-Union.
On seeing me the gang was excited
as I was tha long lost shipmate,
arriving from the dead..
The look of them, older and curvier,
with edges given way to gentle roundels.
Ample greys and ample tummies.
Eyes crinkled with Laughing lines,
foreheads furrowed with long worries..
Tis what happens at a Re-Union.
Love just overflowed,
as did the beeya,
we danced away like tiny teens,
each hug an acknowledgement
from another battered old soul,
of recognition,
that I am you and you are me,
not different from each otha.
That I have survived
and will thrive,
and will not let go now......
that I have found you...
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
She bounded into the room brim full,
Buoyant and bubbling; bouncing
With bonhomie.
Like an ever expanding balloon, she filled the space and flattened other Guests
Against the wall.
Filling their mouths with her rubbery taste.
She swelled again
And they shrank.
Conversation shrivelled,
Guests snivelled.
'Was it something I said?'
She oozed herself between chatting pairs
And insinuated herself into private conversations
Offering unsolicited advice.
She broke the spell of lovers' eyes and blocked the path of their gaze.
Two glasses of wine and the volume soared.
Three and the tone soured.
Bored, she wandered into the night.
She sighed.
The house sighed.
The hostess sighed.
Her friends sighed
And all for different reasons.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
The best thing about parties
Is the dancing.
I would like to dance right from the start,
But no-one else is ready,
So I wait for the ***** and bonhomie to kick in,
And then I start it off with a giggle and a wiggle,
And soon everyone's gyrating, sweating, laughing, into it.
Nothing makes me feel more alive,
More in the moment.
More truly myself.
I'm an outrageous exhibitionist,
But it isn't even that -
It's the beat, the truth, the tune, the words,
Leading to the movement,
It's pure interpretation, clear communication,
The essence of party,
The absence of sad.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Dolphins are like a violin
In decoding messages
Without fail and ready in
With love, joy, help and salvages
Human-like they are
Superior in melody they are
Dolphin-like we should be
To spread bonhomie
On land and sea !
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
You clandestinely waltzed into my life
leavened my moribund nights
lifted me up
with your graceful arcs of gab,
full of bewitching sweet nothings
and swirling soft kisses
you held the vise for my time and
unmitigated attention.
And I liked making you laugh.
Happy little period
where we dabbled in
the daily saccharine twaddling.
The days gave way to nights
and time warped into a honey glob
on declivity, disintegrating gradually
while gravitating.
The bonhomie finally
fizzled out.
And I wallowed in disbelief
at your furtive retreat
silly me, cocooned in ingenuity
waited for you to come back
whilst you moon walked
and cachinnated with the hip chicks.
Rivulets of tears
fused with cheap dark ***
and months rolled into years
yet no cue of your return.
You moved on and I was still
stuck three years behind.
Love felt like a prison
where I was serving a life
sentence for your transgressions.
Doleful eyed, weary of waiting
and heaving dolorous sighs,
nearing nadir.
It took me a long time to
finally accept defeat
and obliterate the last
shreds of sanguinity.
It took me a long time
to realize that
I cannot chase love.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Once one crosses the forbidden line on the wrong side of sixty.
Not to venture further into the next arithmetical digit.
There begins the journey to another world, even where the angels fear to tread.
All on a sudden one comes under uncountable whammies.
A jinxed land you stray into, full of a craggy jagged reef.
Razor sharp rocks you feel at every step and bleed.
Another shell shock I devalued you are as a condemned jalopy.
Looks of all you love, speak a strange lingo: you get a creep.
It is anything but the old warm vibes of those years golden.,
Rather an overdose of pity and compassion over-laid with mushy emotion.
A good enough gesture to an infirm or a ******* or one in dotage.
A man past his prime and relevance like a mast broken of a boat sunken.
Written off the priority roster, stowed in a corner,
Dusted, sprayed and showcased as a piece of curio rare.
mothballed with care in medicine on rationed air.
Lest unseen germs of umpteen infections catch them unaware.
An appendage fit to be dumped in old age home.
A social cure-all, as they say, concerned so unwillingly,
A haven as safe as God’s Elysium for progenitors.
To be lionized as the epitome of pride and wisdom.
So adored they are but shunned cannily by every social connection.
A persona-non-grata in all spheres save for gratuitous complimentary doles.
Being in the jinxed circle of seventy is the sin only committed.
A few blessed ones manage to wiggle into the favoured positions.
A few ministerial ballasts, a lottery coup, or a few sine cure slots, a safety net of power & pelf.
The rest for a wallow in the morass of delusive expectations.
Oodles of stale dry sympathy, deceptive tears and bogus bonhomie.
Old raw sores get abraised-the world turns deaf.
……….
It’s a poetry by late Mr S M Ghosh, my late father
An educationist, history teacher and retired principal of Central Schools, in India.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
It all came together when we got together
You are my morning sun
A breath of fresh air
That gets me prepared
To face each newborn day
Such a smoothie you are
Such a pretty face
Oh, the bonhomie
As we rise with delight
It will all be all right
As it already has and forever will be
Beyond the heart and into the soul
You run with me
Are we in love?
Yes, it's out of control
Pleasing as can be
I've fully accepted
That you intercepted
Me from falling apart
From your tasty treats
To everything in between
You make me complete
And that's just the start
So, in conclusion
Thanks for the fusion
We go on with such energy
For it all came together when we got together
As everyone can see
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC