Expectation Haiku

A birth is announced;

All is high expectation.

Christmas approaches.

The Promised One comes,

We hope for more than we dare

As history screams.

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Oojamaflip

black and white book business close up

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

On the trials of a would-be Poet . . . continued . . .

The words won’t come …
Oojamaflip
Is all that I can say
It fills a space
A hole in time
But I will have my day
My day when flow turns into flood 
And torrents can’t be held;
New words will rush – 
Nay, hush, they’ll gush.
 
More trees, no longer safe, will die
For inspiration 
Felled.
 
Is it for this the poet’s toil,
Denuding all those forests?
Did oojamaflip kill time and life
With its pointless blunted knife?
 
Or did I seek to spill my thoughts
Predicated on my fecund muse
Merely upon a whim –
A sense of knowing what to say
Without reason to say it? 
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NOTE: From the O.E.D.   … Like thingamabob or whatchamacallitoojamaflip (also spelled whojamaflip, hoojamaflip, etc.) is a word used to refer to something a person doesn’t know the name of, or doesn’t wish to specify precisely.   . . .
A word used when you can’t remember the word that you want to be saying.
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To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme?

I asked a question of my friend

It did not seem too hard.
I wished to know
What rhymes with word,
Hardly a question for the Bard.
He said he’d heard
Of nerd and turd,
And bird and curd and herd,
And even that rude French word merde
If I wished to be absurd.
I left him to his contemplation,
I could hardly ask for more.
Eight words were all that I could hope
Before he asked me what it’s for.
When I said I was averse
To omit a telling rhyme,
He said a verse was always worse
When forced into a line.
No doubt it’s true,
A poem is killed,
Its passion bled anew,
When thought proceeds without a nudge,
A kiss from me to you.
So, suitably dissuaded from
Forcing further rhyme,
I’ve downed my pen,
I don’t know when,
But, mouse among men,
I I’ll try again

… sometime.

SMILE – Spike Milligan

[  # 100 of My Favourite Short Poems  ]

 

yellow plush toy

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

This is a wonderfully positive poem, with a delightful premise, wittily expressed by that master of humour, SPIKE  MILLIGAN

SMILE

 

Smiling is infectious
You catch it like the flu

When someone smiled at me today
I started smiling too

I walked around the corner
And someone saw me grin

When he smiled I realised
I had passed it on to him

I thought about the smile
And then realised its worth

A single smile like mine
Could travel round the earth

So if you feel a smile begin
Don’t leave it undetected

Start an epidemic
And get the world infected.

 

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Once Upon an Autumn

green field during sunset

Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

 

In the land that love forgot
lit by the light of an autumn moon
Memory stirred and held a thought
of those once upon a time days
When roses
rich with red
scented days with hope
Wind-strewn days with fallen apple
air fresh with suckled honey
When once You and I loved
smitten

immersed in this infinity
enamoured
Longing
in those autumn days
Regaining in their wistful hours
what summer once had brought us 
All now lost in time’s story
But always and forever 
written on memory’s scroll. 

 

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Ralph Roister Doister

 

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Ralph Roister Doister was a bit of a wenching lad
Lived in Tudor London with his dear old dad
Braggart soldier, doomed to fail, upstart braggart and a cad.

His story, our first comedy,
Nick Udall gave it birth;
Joyfully pleasing London folk
With merry quips and mirth.

Mumblecrust and Talkapace
Featured in this play
Raucous, Fun and fluffy –
‘Twas the sixteenth century way.

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See the Wikipedia entry for more on  Ralph Roister Doister 

Ralph Roister Doister is a sixteenth-century play by Nicholas Udall, which was once regarded as the first comedy to be written in the English language.

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Night Light

Liverpool-From-Wapping

‘Liverpool from Wapping’ … John Atkinson Grimshaw

Reflections on the Nocturnal Paintings of John Atkinson Grimshaw

In the gloom of my world,
In the dark of my dreams,
I capture with rapture
Those nights of moonbeams.
In the glow of the gaslights
I wander a while.
There is joy in their promise
And warmth in their smile.
Twinkling with stardust
Lights dance and dive;
Raindrops add lustre,
The streets are alive.
Light catches and clutches
And I feel the glow
Of these dark starlit nights
On the paths that I know.
Bringing warmth to my soul
As we meet face to face;
It’s the world that I live in
And I savour its grace.
Lady in Garden at Moonlight-1882

Lady in a garden at Moonlight’ … 1882 – John Atkinson Grimshaw

John Atkinson Grimshaw (6 September 1836 – 13 October 1893) was an English Victorian-era artist who has been called a “remarkable and imaginative painter” -best known for his nocturnal scenes of urban landscapes. He was born in Leeds, Yorkshire,  and lived most of his life in that county. Wikipedia
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