Posts Tagged ‘Rhyme’

I’ve been busy with other “necessary” things lately, such as painting the house between bouts of inclement weather. Poetry still whistles through the mind but is blown away before I’m able to capture it, so you don’t know what you’ve missed and now neither do I.
I have found time occasionally to delve again into the book “The Ode Less Travelled” by Stephen Fry, a goldmine of information on writing rhyming poetry and a joy to read.
My wife and I are celebrating our joint 138th birthday today and I’m writing this in the waiting period before the guests arrive. Downstairs there are chairs everywhere and the scattered collection of things I like to have at hand are stored away where I hope I can find them again later.
The trees that I always can see from here on high through the window are continuously nodding back and forth and probably still wet from the last shower of yesterday. Some nearby have already given up on the summer and are shedding their leaves.
Internationally, the only solution to increasing debt still appears to be increasing debt by “printing” even more money. I heard a rumour that the banks have recently discovered that it might be a good idea to do business with the little people again and raise the interest rates on savings.
That might work.
Years ago I was somewhat hooked on adventure game software, but after having my PC destroyed by horrid unannounced anti-copying elements I rather lost interest. Recently I purchased for a small fee the title “A stitch in Time” from lassiegames.com. It’s a sequel to a freely available game also available from their site. I can heartily recommend these to those interested in the “point and click” genre. They are gems from two dedicated part time enthusiasts.

Have a good one!

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Cold comfort

The little warmth the sun can spare
Has turned to mist the frosty air
And winter’s touch has sprinkled white
All those that stared into the night.

Is this what one calls poetry
Because it rhymes maybe
And colours with emotions
Some woven tapestry
That’s found between dimensions
Where futures meet their pasts
A fresh, wide-eyed creation
Something, perhaps, that lasts.

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Old nursery rhymes revisited and a few new suggestions

Raggle Taggle went to market
For a goose to haggle
When at last he had his way
The goose could no more waggle.

Humpty Dumpty often fell
Though warned no walls to sit on
His shell became so fractured that
No fractal shape would fit on.

Miss Muffet would rough it
And sit on a tuffet
To munch every day
On her curds and whey
But since that old spider
Came up close beside her
She eats at the table
Which ends this small fable.

Foxy Fox wore bright red socks
To call the bull
Shaped like a chicken
That thought it was
Too big for licking.

The cow that jumped over the moon
Came back down just a little too soon
It went into orbit
As gravity caught it
The dog wept and dish ditched the spoon

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The researcher speaks396px-Mona_Lisa

Yes I’m deemed to be clever 
with my fond endeavour
to unlock the secrets within.
Well, at least I am trying
for those who are buying
and failure consider a sin.

But just take Mona Lisa
or those peaks of Giza
that baffle minds even today
with their makers departed,
their ideas uncharted,
no certainty’s there to all sway.

Is this universe growing
with our planet flowing,
its size just not changing at all?
Or is it too expanding
so nothing’s left standing
becoming increasingly small?

Can we understand living
with death unforgiving
the phantom that weaves strands of time,
holding us in its clutches
so none ever touches
what’s hidden from even this rhyme?

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Perpetual motion

Falling raindrops, rising damp
Lifting spirits, breaking camp
Pulling faces, pushing luck
Turning pages, shelving book.

Holding hands, loosening ties
Folding arms, beckoning cries
Drifting thoughts, sinking hopes
Reaching limits, climbing slopes.

Scratching livings, filing suits
Rubbing shoulders, peeling fruits
Grasping straws, slapping thighs
Throwing fits, heaving sighs.

Catching colds, blowing noses
Clipping wings, winding roses
Giving thanks, taking chances
No returns, life advances.

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PhD blues

Your brain is mine;
I bought it true
and you will work
until you’re blue
to make us wealthy,
powerful too,
so I can join
with others who
will shape the future
for the few:
the privileged
and maybe you.

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Updated 29 December

A Nigerian engineer with purported links to al-Qaeda breached impenetrable security precautions and boarded a plane at Amsterdam airport without a passport and aided by a well-dressed man, see this report. It is noteworthy the latter was not reported by the mainstream media. Just before landing the Nigerian attempted to explode some device containing a  “powdery substance”, but only succeeded in setting his legs on fire before he was incapacitated by passengers and crew. Hmm.
It’s been a while since “terrorists” did anything in the West to warrant the continuation of the devastating “war on terror”, so I suppose something might have been needed to fan the flames of dying revolt.

US Congressman Ron Paul’s comment here

So now on down to New Year
it seems not much has changed
no one to stir the millions
waiting for what’s arranged.
Old Lucifer is dancing
with hunger in his eyes
the thirst for blood still surging
as he designs his lies.
His servants feast and wonder;
another year’s success.
The light has grown still dimmer
on man’s road to progress.
But more and more awaken
and leap with torches bright
to join their fellows storming
the paper walls of night.

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Photo courtesy Luigi Diamanti

While you’re reading this
someone’s getting a kiss
under the mistletoe.
Lips pursed and eyes closed
if it’s but a friend,
but with more affection
if there’s a connection.

There’s a tree
with a fetish for earrings,
glistening in the candles’
warm light,
and a star
pointing up to the ceiling
as a crown
makes the whole
feel just right.

Mysterious parcels
waiting for the ones
for whom their contents are meant:
some large, others small,
some sit squat, some stand tall,
some are hard, others soft,
perhaps bent.
All designed to bring joy
whether or not a toy,
wrapped in love
of the giving
well spent.

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Inspired by a scientific analysis of the Bible’s Old Testament message.
(The helix refers to the Earth’s true orbit through space)

An ancient text not understood
just symbols to an alien mind
that dredges thoughts from rivers deep
to paint worlds of a different kind.

Myths, legends, show a truth disguised
from those to whom the written word
emerged from Nature’s wondrous hand
and voice that beckoned to be heard.

Three thousand turns the helix makes
as on they speed to journey’s end
those motes searching for paradise
that’s waiting always round the bend.

Perhaps one day when hope’s denied
these revelations will be clear
and man will see with opened eyes
what lies behind the web of fear.

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I thought of a message for Christmas
with Santa and sleigh bells and all
and best wishes for the world’s people
the hope that good things them befall.

But seeing the turmoil and hardship
that many souls suffer today
it seems that the Shepherd’s forgotten
why many of His flock still pray.

So let those pretend and be merry
the ones who still can and are free
that there’ll be someone to protect them
from fools who think they hold the key

while others who hardly see daylight
and know only hunger and pain
look on with eyes tired but not clouded
by dreams that beguile the inane.

Our futures are born of past longings
our moments pale ghosts in the night.
So I wish that we’ll soon awaken
to walk once again in the light.

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Have you got a future?
Well I’d like one too
Nothing really fancy
With nice things to do

If I could find someone
As you seem to me
Perhaps we together
Could then find the key

To chase away sorrow
And banish the fear
Bring new warmth and sunshine
To this coming year

Whatever befell us
We’d take in our stride
With two hearts to guide us
Those feelings inside

If I shared that future
With someone like you
Then I might be happy
With nice things to do.

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Fellow travelers

Limerick style


When it’s time to go forth it just knows.
When the day comes around it just goes.
It needs not to ponder
before it flies yonder
or wait till it’s too late and snows.

Bird call

The blackbird flies searching for food
never uttering words that are rude.
When it rains it’s alright
for the worms come in sight;
in lean times it seems never subdued.

Animal magic

They feel pain but never know sorrow
no need things to lend or to borrow.
They mate and survive
as long they are alive
and have never a thought of tomorrow.

Space race

The planets turn flying in space
with the Sun’s light somewhere on their face.
What lies deep down inside
knowledge still is denied
though it holds us within its embrace

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Passing storm

Rain approaching, clouds encroaching
on the blueness of the sky.
Wind’s a rising stirring dust
and leaves that slap against the pane.
How long I wonder will it be
before the first cold drops of rain.

Moisture laden grayness swells as
moaning gusts urge creaks and groans.
Wetness falls to tick and run
as lightning flash calls thunder’s roar.
Then sun behind the deluge peeps
to herald evening calm once more.

The restless wind is whining still
as darkness creeps to end the day.
Scudding clouds reveal a star
that with my eyes plays hide and seek.
The sea air smells of showers to come
as autumn shows its face so bleak.

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You sense the wonder when you know you’re right
that you always have been and you’ve seen it’s true.
The words were spoken that delved deep inside,
stirring something that no longer there could hide.

The door creaks open just a little more.
Soon perhaps you’ll stand there on the other side.
A new awakening, like a distant call
drifts on down the ages from some ancient hall.

The day dawns when it’s time at last to go,
Leave the place of dreams that long has been your home.
You wake now seeing without lying eyes
that which thought alone could never ever devise

Space now contracts to leave a seething glow,
no more separation or prescribed disguise.
Dimensions crumble and time’s ticks are gone.
All is known now that the two are joined as one.

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I am rather bemused and in no way amused
by the messages coming my way
about crashes and gold
will it be warm of cold
and how much will be left of my pay.

I look up to the stars and that slight reddish Mars
and bold Jupiter shining so bright.
No Moon is to be seen
all around is serene
in the wonderful quiet of the night.

I peer round at the rose standing there by the door
with fresh buds about ready to flower.
See the grass growing slow
there the blackbird I know
and I feel, as they, old Nature’s power.

I gaze into the mirror at he who looks back
the one free of what’s lurking inside.
I want now to step through
so that I can see who
is the one in which these thoughts reside.

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The secret

I carry a secret; I tell you no lie.
It’s heavy this burden and I don’t know why
it’s been with me always, well, since I was young:
a knowledge that’s wounded and left songs unsung.

Though questions were asked no clear answers would come
but always I hoped that there still would be some
who might bring some light to the darkness inside
and set free the one who preferred there to hide.

And still it is waiting for some sign I know
to come to the surface and bid me “Hello”
to show me with eyes growing dimmer each day
a world that I glimpsed in a dream far away.

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When they come I’ll still be here
sitting in my favorite chair.
Masked, with weapons I’ve no doubt,
muted brains that no more care
ravaged by the demon clan,
remnants of the age of man.

Nature’s treasures gone to waste
torn and twisted show their might,
stripped their skin of gentleness,
blinded to eternal night.
Lost they stagger, rise and fall
following the banner’s call.

Grayness in the branches hangs.
Screeching rain unseen by eyes
pierces with its talons sharp
heeding not the pleading cries.
Chaos treads where once was peace.
Will this madness never cease?

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The nurse is waiting with syringe
while frightened eyes can only cringe
as in its mother’s arms it lies,
hanging between what lives and dies.

Cold hearts are bought and sold these days
as warm compassion rarely pays.
Sickness and health now up for sale.
Profits rise from the fallen pale

Those who still care, those one can trust,
I hope you find them if you must.
Be sure before you take the pill
that its not there to make you ill.

This may wake anger in those who
see this a threat to what they do,
but I am not the only one
awakened by the smoking gun.

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The Sun shines brightly in the sky
Warming the face, blinding the eye.
A cold wind blows but here inside
It could be summer I decide
As memories of yesterday,
Of those we love who came to stay,
Flood back to fan the inner flame
That burns so in the hearts they claim.
Life bringer staring down at me
Can it be so that this you see?

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There are those who believe that we
climbed down from some perch in a tree,
and while perusing gathered nuts
saw suddenly some ifs and buts.
These formed new pathways in the mind
those of the search-for-answers kind.

So somehow revelations came.
We stood, and went in search of game
with tools and weapons we had made,
worked by the fire that came to aid.
The cave gave shelter and safe rest;
we thrived, the equal of the best.

Our tools and weapons grew in size
Their forms took on a new disguise
And caves became new structures too
Where many lived, not just a few
No predators came in the night
Their eyes lit by the fireside light.

So did millennia pass by.
We never ceased to wonder why
and marvels wrought by hand and mind
changed how we thought of humankind.
No longer one with all the rest,
some of whom now were second best.

Fights turned to wars with millions dead.
A madness filled our hearts with dread
as death appeared to roll the dice
and saviors told of paradise,
the wrath of God and that called sin,
which drove our thoughts deeper within.

Although our origin’s in doubt
we still are here to rant and shout,
strike out at dangers all around,
ghosts born of fear, ideas unsound.
The peace man seeks that he once knew
stays close but ever out of view.

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