Great 300 year old quote belly. I guess it has always been known, but no other way I know works and appears fair to all.

Sorted.

I never liked insects or creepy crawly things.
Not keen on birds, but I envy their wings.
I always thought my penis is rather small,
and I always wanted to be big and tall.

Can't stand the rain when I want to go out.
Always wondered what that's about.
Don't even need it now we've got taps.
Don't like sleeping or power naps.

People? Well, where should I start.
Not much love for my art.
Most don't even think like me
and can't even make a cup of tea.

Theists and the agnostic
stuck as if with Bostick.
Then there is the atheist.
No escaping my list.

Don't like nosey window cleaners.
Most people are day dreamers.
As for bloody cats and dogs.
Don't need them or their gods.

That was then, but since I died
some sorting must have been applied
and here I stand all alone.
My planet's dry as a bone.
Nothing wriggles, laughs or sings,
my ears replaced with little wings
and as for my bigger dick?
As tall as me and twice as thick.

Nowhere to go, no one to see.
The only living thing is me.
It's never dark. I never sleep.
I'm building a wall so steep
that when I throw myself off
I shall become a moth
and always fly towards the light.
Even if it don't seem right.

Re the poems posted on Brexit - I clearly differ from the opinions expressed However, in the interests of thread-harmony and the spirit of 'each to their own', I won't pass comment! But it's always good to see the other point of view put across here

I liked the twist halfway through this John

World War I Chess

The pawns were given orders to go over,
The game proceeded with a bugle's cry
But nobody had reckoned
It only took a second
To wander into no man's land and die.

The knights were in their saddles when the next move
Was cancelled by a shell out of the blue
And after it exploded
Morale had been eroded,
A crater swallowed knights and horses too.

The Bishops tried to comfort the survivors,
Encouraging the wounded ones to reach
A promised land that mattered
But when a body's shattered
Then even Bishops question what they preach.

Reclining in splendour of a castle,
The King and Queen weren't part of the attack;
The chessboard gave them cover
And while some would recover
So many pieces never did come back.


©

I was going to post the above poem close to the anniversary of the first day of the Battle of the Somme. Unfortunately all the computers were out of action for servicing that day in the library

Never mind

New page. Brex what was it?


Thanks. Did you guess a twist was coming? I think I may have made the first bit too long and put the reader to sleep before the twist.

Reassessment.

I was born. Early morn. All forlorn. Coming storm.
Grew strong. Went along. Smoked a bong. Ding dong.
Climbed a mountain. Secret fountain. Started shouting.
Stood corrected, disrespected, under rated. Incarcerated.
Sat waiting, concentrating, no mistaking. Heart breaking.

Forgave police. Said my piece. Hate to cease.
Got shot down. Broken crown. **** this town.
Unbefriended. Love expended. Life ended.
Found a knife. Took my life.

No no no. No time to go. Just let it flow.
This planet's green and in my dream this place shall teem
with life and love and all above and far beyond
shall be our pond.

Rustling

Rustling trees
as a whisper
to the birds
rest a while





(Hello Musty and other poets, been away for awhile but am still reading the poetry)

Hi sandy. Quiet thread these days sadly.

I only seem to do one theme, so more of the same:

I'm all right.

Motivated to survive
and maybe to thrive
against any odds.
My will or God's?

I don't mind if I do.
I'm not alone with you
and sometimes you're funny.
I have big full tummy.

I'll miss you all too soon.
I acted the goon
and we got on just fine.
Premature bottom line.

Much more than that.
If this ain't where it's at
and a much nicer place
exists out in space:

There's no place like home.
This is our pleasure dome.
Where we laughed and we raged.
Where we thought we were caged
until love set us free.
I'm glad I was me.

Hello Sandy ! Good to see you here even for just a few of your gentle lines

Oh the sun is out
I must get out
I'll dig things out
So weeds come out

Oh the rain's start'in
I must run in
The grounds swell ' in
Now weeds stop in

Black and White

If music is the food of love
Then what does silence feed
When nectar is the feast of gods
What fills the mortal greed

If darkness cannot drive out dark
Then what if there's no light
Perhaps the lamp took all there is
And perpetuates the night

Yet silence fills the hunger
In the blackness of our sleep
No need for love or nectar
Nor light when counting sheep

When awaken wants are plenty
In rest their grasp less tight
Half all our lives are being
In existence without bright

Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated - I'm back after a long absence I shall catch up and comment on all the new material shortly, after I post an oldie

(publishing day is looming; the big book will be unleashed some time in August/September)

Solitude

O solitude you are to me
A shelter from the storm,
Come solitude, my sanctuary,
Reveal your silent form.

In younger years I'd seek a glen
Or some remote domain
To give me what I needed when
I could no more remain

In crowded halls where every voice
Intruded as it yelled;
The rural fields became my choice,
Where peace and quiet dwelled.

To find a tree with cooling shade
Through meadows I would roam,
Regarding how the sparrows played
From my secluded home.

Sometimes I'd glimpse a butterfly
Who from the world was hid,
With no one there to utter why
Or question what I did.

And as the evening reached its end
And daylight slowly fled,
I watched an orange sun descend
Into a sea of red.

My solitude's a lovely cape
Of finest velvet cloth,
To wear whenever I escape
Until I take it off.


©

No, definitely not John. A twist can only really be enjoyed when you don't see it coming in my opinion

What an excellent piece! It tells a story but what really impressed me was the format. The words are delivered at almost staccato/machine gun pace

I might nick it for another poem if it's alright with you John

Sandy So nice to see you here again; I agree with BB, your poems are like a gentle breeze. Much needed in this heatwave too

Rustling is lovely by the way and welcome back

I dunno, I quite like the Earth - despite how it's been screwed up by Man. And it's bloody cold on Neptune

One of your finest ever contributions BB, I read it three times. Poems that make me think have to be pored over. I loved the first verse in particular. Totally beautiful

I gave me calendula a good watering earlier on

Well everything needs a good dousing in this weather

Actually I've got loads of Calendula, they seed themselves all over the place and I haven't got the heart to pull them out. In another few years, if I carry on, there will be nothing else but.

Thanks for the generous comments as ever

How apt this line from your lovely poem is :

'To find a tree with cooling shade
Through meadows I would roam,
Regarding how the sparrows played
From my secluded home.'

Really enjoyed 'Black and White' belly. The third verse is superb and... well I agree with musty.


Oh. I didn't know you've been to Neptune. Do you know Dave?

'Solitude' is perfect.

Thanks for positive comments on mine. I'm sure I've nicked any style I use from somewhere, so if you use it and someone moans - just tell them I said it would be OK.

No Cake.

Yesterday was much too hot.
The day before was hotter.
So many rhymes I forgot
as sweat dripped on my blotter.

Last week was much too cold.
Before that it was colder.
Soon I'll be too old
to shoulder what I shoulder.

Gathering ingredients.
The best I can get.
Recipe obedience,
but no cake yet.

Must have gone wrong
by some small amount.
Love too strong?
Or I just can't count.

It always tastes rotten
like a bitter end.
Tastiness forgotten
in a tasteless blend.

Quality gone? Or is it me?
Some gulp it down ecstatically.
As if there's more where that came from,
but when it's gone - it's all gone.

Can't make cake from stars and planets.
Make no mistake you greedy Gannets.

Pity.

Pit of the pities. Hope crucified.
Beautiful cities built with pride.
Now like a scene from Armageddon.
Kill for your team and off to heaven.

No end in sight. This dark tunnel.
Blackest plight. Fun-less funnel.
Many many casualties.
Anyone? Any remedies?

Having won we fight each other.
Murder me and my brother
would you? I'll get you first.
Winner's who does best worst.

So unfulfilled. So need to show.
Easily drilled up to blow.
Good concedes. Devastated.
Securities updated.

Pity, such a nice place.
Needs a touch of good grace.
Need to know there is no more.
The slow road to death's door
gives you time to live and learn.
Bottom line is to discern.

Ta BB The grass is turning yellow, which always reminds me of 1976. I was trying to think of a rhyme for Calendula but gave up I saw a beermat recently with the phrase 'hysteria over our Wisteria', which I thought was good

Thankee John and I'm going to have a bash at a poem in Reassessment style The 'Dave' comment went over my head I'm afraid