The Wizard and the Alchemist

The wizard’s gift was awesome,
To study was his quest
And most were quite convinced that
His magic was the best.

He saw into the future,
Could master any spell,
The fireworks he conjured
Like rainbows soared and fell.

His fame was such that even
The King became aware,
Whose banquets he attended,
What shows he put on there.

No sorcerer could equal
The great and honoured seer,
Then rumours of another
Magician reached his ear.

The wizard, full of envy
While frowning on his stool
Said to his raven ‘Go now,
Spy on this meddling fool!’

And after two days watching
The loyal bird returned
To tell his jealous master
That he should be concerned.

‘So locals think he’s clever’
He cackled full of glee,
‘Let’s send an invitation
Inviting him to tea.’

He only saw a rival,
Not somebody who made
A living out of metals,
An alchemist by trade.

The invitee was flattered,
Directions in the note
Led to a mighty castle
That lay within a moat.
 
A pleasant dinner followed
Until the host implied
The guest had tricked the people,
A charlatan who lied.

The alchemist was saddened
Yet sensed the wizard’s wrath,
As well as mortal danger
When he reached for his staff.

The metal-smith responded,
His eyes turned black and cold,
Then staring at the wizard
Transformed him into gold.

A miracle had happened,
How fast fortune can swing;
The alchemist soon prospered
At banquets with the King.

What really killed the wizard
Were pride and self-esteem,
Which left a golden statue
Forever more to gleam.


©

Ooohhh! There's a moral there. Ripping yarn.

Thanks Musty.


That was very enjoyable.

Ta Biz


Thanks Howmany Please feel free to post more material - we're a bit thin on the ground for poets at the moment

Hello Musty, here's a poem for today


From Afar

A poet who walks as he talks
through the streets and the lanes
finding others who gather, sit and though glaze
enjoying their lunches with chatter and distains
until the fellow stands clear, alone from afar
goes into an inn and off to the bar.

Very good, Musty

I enjoyed this one Sandy - it reminded me of me


Thanks

The Art of Paul And Art

The longing to be homeward bound
Or simply feelin' groovy,
The sound of silence all around,
The Graduate, a movie
Through which they spoke
With pop and folk
Of values that would splinter,
The music played
Span on and made
A hazy shade
Of winter.

I listened to them harmonize,
I found each song appealing,
The lyrics seemed to recognize
Emotions I was feeling,
They used to stand
Without a band,
The voice and guitar only
Combined to show
What old friends know,
How bookends grow
So lonely.

The weary boxer in the ring
Who lost but gave no quarter,
A bridge to heal the suffering
Across some troubled water,
Scarborough Fair
Retains them there,
The duo time can’t sever,
The art of Paul
And Art won’t fade,
It shall be played
Forever.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kQGfY7nbC4

That was lovely, really lovely.

Great to have the the musical accompaniment.

In a meadow where the grass is lush and green
I sit and marvel at nature's scene:
At the bloom of wild flowers in my line of sight
Nurtured by the sun shining so bright
From where my spine sinks into the ground
I hear crickets chitter their familiar sound
As I gaze at the lilacs, lemons and blues
Showing me their wonderful array of hues
Till hovering yonder something enters my sight
A hot air balloon is gaining height
Floating away into a pastel sky
Home to the birds that soar freely on by
Then it passes beyond a silver lining
Here a multitude of dreams starts unwinding

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGFvlnCq-ts

Musty, it's ok to pop off to the pub sometimes.


I watched a programme on the telly about Poetry and it showed a guy walking along while emphasising poetry aloud, a voice from the distance and into the crowd.

Beautiful write Howmany A glimpse of summer on a grey autumn day! I love Number 9 Dream, one of John's most uplifting songs.


I bet he got some funny blooks Sandy

I thought it was just teachers who were on strike today.

Sorry Biz, I haven't been writing much I must admit I'll try to post something later on or tomorrow I think I'm gearing up for work on the next book, which should start before the end of October.

Don't apologize; it's an absolute miracle that your output has been so prolific over such a long period. It's an excellent idea to take a break to sort out your publishing.

Thanks Biz Apparently, it's National Poetry Day - what a shame I've got no new material So I'll just repeat my old motto....

A poem a day
Keeps stagnation at bay

Well, well, what do you know - as you haven't got a poem to post today, there's a new thread of poetry to celebrate this day...........though whisper it, I don't know whether it fits in with the T&Cs. Anyway just helps to prove that poetry is not dead.

I noticed that My delayed trip to the seaside is taking place tomorrow now. I have a poem in the pipeline - I should be able to finish it in coastal tearooms. Lovely jubbly

I'll be back on Sunday

Enjoy your visit. Hope the weather is kind.

Tupperware Tilly

Young Tilly lived in Whalley Range,
With Arthur Pratt she tarried,
By saving wages and small change
They managed to get married.

Now Arthur earned a living at
The local Fox & Rabbit
And after time he noticed that
His wife had gained a habit.

He pondered as he lit his pipe
What none could have predicted;
To Tupperware of every type
His loved one was addicted.

She always had his supper there
But each meal caused frustration
When Tilly guided Tupperware
Into the conversation.

The poor chap saw no reason why
She found it so fantastic
To constantly go out and buy
Dull boxes made of plastic.

What storage units Tilly sought,
Long, circular and square ones,
Scoured all the shops until she bought
Both regular and rare ones.

With cupboard space full to the brim
(The sign of a fanatic)
In need of space and on a whim
She loaded up the attic.

The bedroom offered no escape,
For Arthur’s mind meandered
To Tupperware of every shape,
Affecting his high standard.

Soon marriage floundered on the rocks
Which made the locals titter,
‘She should have wed a bloody box’
Said Arthur, pouring bitter.

Divorce took everything away
With lawyers on retainers
And Tilly’s still in love today
With Tupperware containers.


©

It was a smashing day Biz - and the weather was mild

Wow! Didn't expect you back so soon, but pleased you had a good day.

Tupperware is an historic relic by now isn't it, from the days before plastic became a bad word? Tilly was certainly a nightmare - you've got to feel sorry for Arthur.

Am I right in thinking I've met Tilly before, or is that just my memory playing tricks?

You were sat on the corner of your bed
as I walked into your bedroom.

I didn’t recognise you.

I turned and looked
to where you should have been
and saw the barely sunken pillow,
white and empty.
Then I knew that figure was you.

I thought she was the woman who laid out the dead.

Did you realise I didn’t know you?
Did you feel my confusion, my shame?

Dying had changed you –
sunken cheeks,
skin, the colour and texture of chalk-dust,
hair – loose, scorched grey,
eyes – fixed, dry.

An unknown friend or neighbour,
come to see the spectacle of a dying woman.

Tess

You tear through your-shoulder-high grass
with a manic breast stroke,
just feeling every joy of the moment.

You curve back to me,
then,
in a game where you keep the rules,
tear away,
scything a wake through the green sea.

A frightened lark soars,
singing,
calling,
from its nest
and I follow then lose it
in the sudden brilliance of the sky.
Distracted, I lose you – you’re gone.
My eyes dart across the now still surface
and for a second a remembrance of loss churns over.

She should have told me we were not playing hide-and-seek.

The poem's new but I think I've mentioned it before. Some have a long gestation period