A New Day

‘Morning Sun’ Pen and Wash … WHB – 2016   ©

As the morning warms its shoes,
As the dark gives way to dawn,
So new day begins its tale,
Yet another story born.

Every moment, every day,
Bring new memories again;
Similar but none the same,
Some of joy, others of pain.

Life is made of memories.
When each life has been and gone
Let us all remember this –
Memories are what live on.

 

On the Pleasures of Being Hirsute

 

Oh for the hair to grow at will,
For growth to flourish unchecked until,
A healthy tash achieved at last,
Measurements rarely ever surpassed.

Twirls and swirls and supercurls,
Better than ever seen on girls,
Now adorned his hirsute face,
Hardly left a breathing space.

To grow so hairy takes a while;
Shame it covers up his smile.
But he is happy, quite ecstatic,
Loves the look, so charismatic. 

Two Word Tale #10 – Time’s Tale

‘Big Ben’ … Pen & Wash – WHB.2015   ©

Time tells
Its tale
Tick tock
Tock tick

If truth
Be told
When time
Runs out
I won’t
Be stressed
I won’t
Be tired
 Just sad

Yet still
Hell bent
To start
With zeal
Pre – pared
To do
Just what
It takes

To live
This time
In peace

While time
Still there
Ticks on

The Has-Bean

Photo: Dunster, Somerset, England … 2020 – WHB  ©

Little black coffee bean
Put there to plug his wares;
Enjoying his Americano,
Oblivious to his cares.

On the pavement, feet in gutter,
Teetering on a ledge.
How better could he show his love
Of living on the edge?

Yes, he knows he’s round and crunchy,
His family abound.
He’s just another old has-bean
Waiting to be ground.

 

What the Dickens!

What the Dickens!

 

Yes, that’s me,
I’m straight from a Fairy Story,
So don’t “Bah! Humbug” me.
Why not, instead,
Wish me a “Merry Christmas? “

I’m not given to Fluffiness,
Or Cheesiness.
I don’t attempt to Flummox people,
Even those who give me The Creeps;
No! I’m a straight guy,
Maybe a bit of a Doormat.
Never going on the Rampage;
No, Not me….

Suffering Boredom from time to time,
And a bit of a Butterfingers
When it comes to relationships.
Oh, yes, I’ve suffered …
And how!
Straight from the Casualty Ward of Life
Via its discarded Egg Box,
Straight Into its everlasting Dustbin …

. . .  Sad, but, the Story Of My Life.

 

My Christmas story – above – is based on an Article by Gyles Brandreth in the ‘Daily Telegraph’ on Xmas Eve – 24/12/19.  He notes that Dickens helped popularise many words and phrases which are now in common usage. Overall Dickens is credited with coining 258 new words, including:

‘Merry Christmas’;  ‘Bah! Humbug!’
Doormat (when used to describe someone who gets walked all over by other people);
Boredom;  Cheesiness;  Fluffiness;  Flummox;  Rampage;
The Creeps (as in, to give someone the creeps);
Dustbin;  Casualty ward;  Fairy story;  Butterfingers;  Egg box.

Life is made of Memories

As the morning warms its shoes
As the dark gives way to dawn
So new day begins its tale
Yet another story born.

Every moment, every day,
Bring new memories again;
Similar but none the same
Some of joy, others of pain.

Life is made of memories
When each life has been and gone
Let us all remember this
Memories are what live on.

Time To Linger . . .. A Kyrielle’

Photo by Joe on Pexels.com

Time To Linger . . ..  A Kyrielle’

 

I carry my age so lightly,
With others help, don’t get me wrong,
I’ll manage to last till midnight.
Give me the time to linger long.

For patience is a true virtue,
And I’ve not knowingly done wrong.
So grant me one last interlude,
Give me the time to linger long.

And when my time at last does come,
My final lucid grateful song
Will say as they whisk me away,
‘Thanks for the time to linger long.’ 

 

NOTE:

Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains (a stanza consisting of 4 lines), and each quatrain contains a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza). Each line within the poem consists of only eight syllables. There is no limit to the amount of stanzas a Kyrielle may have, but three is considered the accepted minimum  . . .  The rhyme pattern is completely up to the poet.

[  From:  http://www.shadowpoetry.com  ]

 

Two Word Tale #9 – Be Bold

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Be Bold

Be bold
Don’t moan
Be brave
We’re alone

You’re scared
I’m not
Just try …
…  A shot!

Missed me
Winged you
Play dead
Me too

He’s gone
We hope
Your dream
My trope

 

New Year – A Two Word Tale – #8

Photo by DreamSky on Pexels.com

 

New year
Cold night
Snow falls
All white

Hot fire
Scots pine
Church choir
Mulled wine

Bright hearth
Warm heart
First foot
New start

 

My ‘Two Word’ Verses

Number eight  in my series of short verses 

 

 

 

Once Upon A Time

Photo by Valentin Antonucci on Pexels.com

 

 

I used to open doors, now they open for me.

I used to walk upstairs, now I’ve a Stannah stairlift.

I used to dial on my phone, now I press a little green icon.

I used to fall asleep counting wooly jumpers, now I take a pill.

I used to put a record on the turntable, now Lady Alexa does it for me.

I used to visit shops, now shops come to me.

I used to get a tangerine in my Christmas sticking, now it’s a voucher.

I used to vote in a booth, now it’s by proxy.

I used to listen to the Goons, now I watch Gogglebox.

I used to holiday in Blackpool, now it’s a cruise.

  I used to be busy, now I’ve too much to think about.