Wednesdays

Canterbury 015-The Marlowe Mask

Mask – Canterbury, UK.

Woden’s Day. 

In a change of plan from my previous publication schedule, I shall normally use Wednesday as a catch-up, filler, marking time day.   On occasion I will take the opportunity  for a re-run of one of my previously published poems.  Sometimes I will use the space for reflection, or for the publication of a loved or challenging work of music, poetry, or the visual arts.

At other times, as today, I may just take a rest and deny you the joy or irritation of yet another blog from Roland’s Ragbag.

 

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GENERAL WASTE … Take 2

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GENERAL WASTE… Take 2

Now General Waste was a military man.
Yes, a military man was he.
He’d led a life
So full of strife
He knew not where to be.

But when he retired he took a post
As the village waste collector.
He said with a sigh,
“I might as well try,
I’ll be good as a street protector.”

This post he took as a garbage man,
A rum old job to choose.
He wasn’t bitter
Collecting litter,
He’d nothing much to lose.

He was so used to being obeyed,
He loved issuing orders,
“Now don’t drop that,
You little brat”,
“Or I’ll march you to headquarters.”

But then one day he met another,
A refuse collector she.
So full of beans,
A lass of means
And soon the two became ‘We’.

They did their jobs together now,
He a spry street sweeper,
While she picked waste,
Not to his taste,
Saying “I’m not my husband’s keeper.”

But when at last their jobs were done,
They went home to their cottage.
She called him “Sir”,
He cooked for her,
Their favourite – egg and sausage.

But one fine day she said to him.
“I’ve got a swelling tummy.
It might be that,
Just fancy that,
I’m going to be a mummy.”

Well general Waste was taken aback,
“You mean I’ll be a daddy?
At my age now
I can’t see how
I’ll cope with a little laddy.”

But when he paused and gave it thought,
He decided better of it.
“Might not be bad,
That little lad,
I might just learn to love it.”

Now General Waste, his wife and son,
Derive exceeding pleasure,
As, with great joy,
Man, wife and boy,
They pick up waste together.

General Waste

These verses were, in fact, preceded by a similar light-hearted poem about the General which I wrote and published on this blog nearly a year ago.  If you wish to read this earlier effort of mine you will find it at . . . 

 ‘General Waste Comes To Town’

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THE REAL WORLD

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‘Planet Earth’ . . .  WHB – 1956

THE REAL WORLD

An Attempted Discourse

 

You do annoy me at times

And why is that?

Because I think you are losing touch with reality

What makes you think that?

Because the things you do and say do not make sense

To you, maybe, but then I don’t think you are living in the real world yourself

What do you mean ‘the real world’?

‘Reality’

Is that where you live then?

Well, it’s much more real than yours

How do you know that?

Because I use my reason and all my senses.  You don’t.

And how do you know that I don’t?

Because what you do does not make sense

But that’s what I just said to you

Well, I’m saying it now – to you.

But you can’t do that – I started this argument

What argument?

The one we’re having now

No, we aren’t

You see – that’s just what I mean.  You are not being real

Well, I think I am

I just don’t think so

Well, you’d be wrong

Why should you be right and me wrong?

Because you aren’t living in the real world.

 

Oh . . .   Get real!

 

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‘The Price of Freedom’

Mini-Saga #4.

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The Price of Freedom

Second-Prize entry in the Daily Telegraph’s 1999 Mini-Saga Competition.


The task set being to compose a story of 50 words exactly – no more!  no less!

 

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