"fettle" poems
She is the lady on the road.
She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.
She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.
She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.
She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.
She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.
She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Every morning when I am making tea,
I wish most fervently,
To become an electric KETTLE.
It most certainly won't matter to me,
I'll accept it most gracefully,
Be I of ceramic or METAL.
For one moment I'm dancing with glee,
The next sobbing most piteously,
These wretched hormones don't SETTLE.
Once I whistled so daintily,
Now I breathe so monstrously,
No longer a rose PETAL.
I may boil, then boil most furiously,
Then click off automatically,
Before I sting like NETTLE.
Splutter, bubble, gurgling I be,
Then cool and calm..so peacefully ,
There I ..in fine FETTLE!
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
So Rudolph made an appearance
Or so you'd think
Judging by the spot upon my forehead
All week in the dusk and nothing to fettle my beauty
Oh no
Till today
Planes tried to land on me
Cars stopped as I walked on by
And my mirror drooled awaiting its feed of white
My head had a new head
Potion lotion fail
And I had turned into a fine shade of a red Umpa Lumpa
Squeeze it
Push it
Pop it good
Santa has a new hood ......
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
HANSEL & GRETEL
she tested his mettle
for crossing her path
was stung by her nettle
for one minor gaffe
to get back his fettle
he did him some math
bought chocolate and petal
then ran her a bath
that made the dust settle
placated her wrath
then boiling the kettle
he tried not to laugh.
Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 8:53 AM UTC
Untitled 1– Challenge
The second great war was over
Europe had begun to settle
After years of fighting under the yoke of the gun
People relaxed and seemed in fine fettle.
Till the powers-that-be in their wisdom once more
Found another ill cause they could follow
Communism was now beginning to encroach
And all platitude began to ring hollow.
All the talks between leaders
Peace rallies, hippies man!
There would still be bleeders
From the ranks of the everyman.
We become the fodder of vicious politicians
In their eternal struggle for **********
That war became so very cold
As it swept from nation to nation.
And now amidst their platitudes
As night-time follows day
The war-dead fodder of yesterday
Encroach in dreams to have their say.
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 1…2015
Untitled 2 – Challenge
Like fodder we all go to cast our vote
As fodder once more, our ideals are smote
Times past we were sent as fodder to the gun
She lost her husband, he lost his son
And yet once more as the enemies approach
Politicians embellish and lies encroach
Yet no amount of platitude
Can change what must now be construed
We all are pawns in political aims
Sent as fodder in corruptors games
As cats get fatter and use platitude
The mood turns ugly as the populace brood.
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 2…2015
Untitled 3– Challenge
Statistical fodder in propaganda machine
The poor portrayed as lazy and obscene
While politicos laugh at this weekend’s jolly
The vulnerable suffer from yet more absurd folly.
While slick party leaders, before cameras, debate
In all of the platitude refusing to state
That they are the ones who are really to blame
As they take creature comforts for themselves in the game.
But the time fast approaches when they will be found out
As climates encroach that will bring with them, drought
And the poor and the weak will still just do their best
While the rich will get richer and ****** the rest!!
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 3…2015
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
The lighthouse man doesn't want to know anyone
He sits in solitude
Staring at the swirling seas
Wandering up and down the endless stairs
Fingers and thumbs fat with muscles
Salted sweat on skin
Working on the light fixtures
No word he utters
No visitors today
None scheduled for tomorrow
Steam boils off the kettle
More tinned food in fine fettle
Time stands still here
No interruptions
He meditates on his soul
What there is, he controls
No knowledge he shares
Turning on the light
To ward off danger
To ward off strangers from his world
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 12:57 PM UTC
Twigs crackling, branches battling
against the wind
not to lose their fettle.
Leaves dry and brown
of feeble strength
away are blown.
Dangling like a thief
hung upon the gallows' cliff:
Old leaves from the tree
one by one be torn,
snapped off the boughs forcibly.
Decease by disease or sickness,
caught by misfortune or curse
Is man, unlike a gay green
leaf, in youth and in a merry gown
of life dieth; no more himself to preen.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
The secret nuance of cloud multiplied with piedmont sunshine ..
Contours of tall trees darken green flora hallways , avian brethren
call deep within wooded settlements across a planet changing
with each second ..
Deliver me minus destruction , call my name in a whisper ,
defile not one molecule or leave one impression ..
Nurturing native life-giver , recall in fine fettle , Mother Earth receive
every seed with due diligence , cross not the inhabitant path nor remove one berry in trespass .. Meditate , Live , Love .. Mourn and quietly pass ....
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
Where the lake meets the quaint red roofs
Where the water is chill fresh despite intense July heat
Where cloud hangs as if tied atop mountain high
Is the imperious Lago di Garda
As the Peler bounds relentless until it finds the Ora in fine fettle winning the day like the plume of a freshly boiled kettle
The windsurfers and kite surfers enter their domain only too willing to jump on the nature train
Take me there
Let my heart rule my head
Let it’s beauty win the day
Let Lago di Garda have the final say
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 9:50 AM UTC
What cleanses the body?
What cleanses the mind?
***** bathwater and a feeling of good?
Wash of the grime, oh if the mind could
Soft scented candles and fragrant perfume
To sooth the senses and do you some good
We shower,we shave, we preen and we fettle
But take less care of our inner self
Till the bath of the mind then overflows
Then tears run down the side of your nose
Where did they come from?
Oh why do we cry?
No time was given to spring clean the mind
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
This to all my fellow amazing poets, hope y'all are in good fettle,sorry not posted Lately as requested, just thot I wish y'all a fabulous weekend, cheers
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
I walked through that silent garden;
In the past, it had many children.
I played with that abandoned swing;
Heard its loneliness sing.
Sat by those lost trees of yore ;
They were never just wood before.
Picked up a fallen petal;
Dead and dead, with a broken fettle.
Talked with the parched leaves in the grey;
They too had a thousand things to say,
Of broken glory and drying times,
Much like the decay of growing human lives.
I too will wither , I too will grow bleak,
From the song of the child to the silence of the weak.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
for some sad sorry **** reason
I can't get over the pain I feel
it overwhelms me
more than most things
and I could live
five lifetimes
and twenty three tragedies
break new ground
infinite amount of times.
I could go from the brink
of crazy as **** and back
But still never be used
to the pain I feel.
Some people say physical pain
is worse to bare than mental pain
and on most days
when my stomach is tight
and i'm curled into a fettle
position clawing onto whatever
chance of peacefulness i have left,
I would agree.
But other days,
I clutch a pillow to my chest
and stuff my face into it
wishing I would lose my breath
and leave this hell hole
that is my way of thinking
and break free from the chains
that confine my ability to be happy.
But the best **** comes from the worst ****
which is why I write this
and constantly have internal conflicts.
is mentality worse than fatality?
or is it all so ******* tragic
that we need to stop comparing
two forms of pain that
dont even ******* coincide.
I don't know about you,
but i'm ******* tired of fighting-
especially when it's a battle
I know I'll never win.
They have pills to take away the pain,
and pills to numb your brain
but what people can't comprehend is
it's all the ******* same.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Abide
by Michael R. Burch
after Philip Larkin's "Aubade"
It is hard to understand or accept mortality—
such an alien concept: not to be.
Perhaps unsettling enough to spawn religion,
or to scare mutant fish out of a primordial sea
boiling like goopy green tea in a kettle.
Perhaps a man should exhibit more mettle
than to admit such fear, denying Nirvana exists
simply because we are stuck here in such a fine fettle.
And so we abide . . .
even in life, staring out across that dark brink.
And if the thought of death makes your questioning heart sink,
it is best not to drink
(or, drinking, certainly not to think).
Originally published by Light. Keywords/Tags: Philip Larkin, Aubade, abide, death, mortality, religion, drink, drinking, drunk, alcohol, fettle, mettle, Nirvana
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
A beautiful and sweet girdle
Collecting it is quite doddle
Counting is like a hot fettle
Touching it is a bit brittle.
Let be the Geeta or the Bible,
Let be grapes or pineapple,
Importance of money able
Is not be explainable.
Money can make a castle
Or buy handful cattle
Or can earn a good title
Or can bound to peddle.
All is easily possible
By the mint boodle.
Carry them in a duffle
Or in a golden vessel,
It is going to be a rouble.
So friends value a boodle
And crave for it to chuckle
The taunts of world little.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 12:12 AM UTC
I took every punch
I got ***** with my head buried
I took it laying down
Like a *****
Curled up in the fettle position
Getting curb stomped
And ran over
Like a *****
But I guess it's time
I whip my **** out
Let my nuts drop
Start giving *** whooping's
Time to start *******
Instead of getting ******
She's out of my life
These emotions made me a *****
No longer a problem
So **** it
She didn't care all that much
No worries I have another woman
Ten times better than anyone
You can find in a mirror
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
I live the life that's in my hands,
And inhale as my world expands.
With every count of passing breath,
My life remains, awaiting death.
-
To use the time, I spy and seek,
Adventures of sublime unique.
I wait and listen, both to hear
The inner voice, with which I steer.
-
I follow blindly its advice,
Regardless of the prize or price.
I trust completely where I go,
In me I trust, in trust I flow.
-
My path so far was never wrong,
It knew the turns and tricks along.
Sometimes it seemed about to fail,
And more than once I chose to bail.
-
Much pain ensued, as it would be;
I fought the stream that harbored me.
But once I learned that fact once more,
I gave up struggles for the shore.
-
I turned my mind and fears inside,
Relaxed as I enjoyed the ride.
I knew, somewhere, that this was true,
And smiling saw the daylight through.
-
I do not argue, will not settle,
For less than joy or finest fettle.
A top-notch life is meant to be,
For open eyes that truly see.
-
What I can see and start to learn,
Alights my passion's brightest burn.
And where to go is never shown,
I've made a friend out of Unknown.
-
I live the life that's in my hands,
And lead it with my own demands.
For joy is never out of reach,
To those who can forget the beach.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
My sunshine my moon light,
Je suis désolé, I walked away.
Thou art fair, O my beloved!
Thou didst gift me the art of living,
but not without thee.❤️
Thou didst teach me to give but, without exhausting self .
Thou thought me to Bestir after jeers.
Thee wast my addition,
yet good for my fettle.
Flaunting thee, I got lauded.
Feeling thee, I got better like a buss.
Was reflecting my mind's saga in thee!
Methinks why didst I avaunt ?Natheless, It's been months.. I know!
Can I forlorn thee?
Naa .. Thou art my amour.
I can't forsake, thee can I?
"je suis de retour bébé"
("I'm back baby")
Melancholy ain't making me poetical,
Instead, more panglossian!
The merman sobbing in rain,
Remember! Best lessons are the ones that comes from pain.
For, POETRY be my life.
Yes she's my amour!*
- Rose
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 2:22 AM UTC