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. 

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.

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.

 

Two Word Tales – #6. Car Crash

Photo by Aleksandr Neplokhov on Pexels.com

 

Car Crash

New car
Big load
Too fast
Old road

At speed
Strike hole
Burst tyre
Own goal

Hit tree
Sore head
Bruised knee
Not dead

No claims
Stiff joints
Bad luck
Six points

 

My ‘Two Word’ Verses

Number six  in my series of short verses 

 

The Guardian of Hell

In Norway for a holiday
I chose to take a train.
I found a railway manager
Standing in the rain.

I asked him how I’d get a train
From here to Tromso town.
He looked at me askantly,
Then put his flag and whistle down.

Pausing a while, he sighed a sigh,
“Just go to Hell ” he muttered.
I thought how rude, how quite uncouth,
Such harsh words to have uttered.

I didn’t like his acid tone
I felt so hurt, and, sadly,
Wondered what I’d done to him
That made him treat me badly.

But then he started telling me
About a town called ‘Hell’,
Sitting on the Tromso line
A place where many dwell.

How the long-suffering railway chief
Had laboured to dispel
The reputation he’d acquired –
‘the Stationmaster from Hell.’

So at last I understood
I repented feeling badly.
Now I’d love to go to Hell,
Pay respects quite gladly.

Then standing by the station sign
I’d take a snap as well,
To show how I admired him,
This Guardian of Hell.

OF UNCONSIDERED TRIFLES

 

Photo by Emre Can on Pexels.com

Autolycus came to me and said:
You are a fellow Trifler
Collecting titbits as you go
A code, a pun, a cipher.

A slice of verse,
A photograph,
Graffiti on a wall.
A derelict old building,
A motto I recall.

A snippet here,
A smidgen there,
Nonsensical or sane;
Collecting trifles will pay off,
Nothing is in vain.

An old dead doll,
A fireplace,
A waste bin on a beach,
Have all at times inspired my verse
My writer’s block to breach.

For my creative muse,
Despite its times of dearth,
Enjoys the trigger of the odd
‘Tis inspiration’s birth.

NOTE:  Shakespeare’s Autolycus (in A ‘Winter’s Tale’, claims that he is ‘a snapper–up of unconsidered trifles‘.

 

A Life: Another Long Tale

Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com

 

I

told

you

so

 

You

would

be

bored

 

Best

forgotten

 

Best

ignored.

 

… So I will

 

 

 

Life: A Long Tale

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

It’s

been

a

long

life

I’ve

lived

it

well

It’s

a

long

tale

Too

long

to

tell

… So

I

won’t!

 

 

‘Good, Better, Best’

From a re-created Victorian Schoolroom Museum, Devon, England … Photo WHB.  ©

---

Good, better, best
Never let it rest
Til your good is better
And your better best

 

---

I was here
Here I was
Was I here
Yes I was