The Writing’s On The Wall

Pen & Ink Sketch … WHB – May 2017

The Writing’s On The Wall

(Verses using idiomatic expressions)

It’s all over bar the shouting,
Pride goes before a fall;
Another nail in the coffin,
The writing’s on the wall.

“You’ve not a hope in hell’, they said
You’re doomed to sink like a stone.
Abandon hope who enters here.”
But the devil looks after his own.

I will not beat about the bush
Nor bark up that wrong tree.
Yes, it’s back to square one I go,
‘Twixt devil and deep blue sea.

Some time I’ll bite the bullet again,
But till the bitter end
Blood, sweat and tears it is for me
Till I am round the bend,

No, I’m not about to bite the dust,
Nor to push up the daisies,
For I am still alive and kicking,
Singing my own  life’s praises.

Yes, the cleft stick that I am in
Is just a cock-and-bull story,
For I will last till the cows come home
In my Land of Hope and Glory.

And when the hue and cry are over
Then I’m  off to the Land of Nod.
When those hell’s bells have sounded.
All’s still in the lap of the gods.

Yes, every dog will have its day
The writing is on the wall
Every cloud has a silver lining
I’m not heading for a fall.

Linguistic Gripes

‘I know my call is important to you’
But – Listen up!
I am not one of ‘You Guys’,
and speaking personally
(But then how else could I speak?)
Do I fill IN this form
Or should that be OUT?
Just get on with it, Pleeze!

I don’t know how to tick all
Or even some of the boxes
But …Pas de problem, mon ami,
… No worries …
Just chillax!

NO,
This is NOT a very unique situation.
Be aware,
Uniqueness has no degrees.
I was not born yesterday,
Nor even back in the whatever day,
And while you mention it,
That free gift you offer me,
Just as all havens are safe,
Aren’t ALL gifts free?

And, can I mention –
‘At this moment in time’?
So cumbersome!
When ‘NOW’ will do.

And, OMG,
I’ll stop you there,
before you continue –
It’s ”Should HAVE’.
‘Should OF’ is, well,
an epic fail –
as is ‘Off OF’.

Now I must take a break,
Lie, not lay, down.
Is it worth continuing,
Even though time can’t be stopped?
How did DOORS become EARLY
Or an INVITATION become an INVITE?

Oh well, FYI, I say
 . . . Stercus accidit! –
As would the Romans.
LOL !!!

Outmoded Slang

SLANG: a type of language consisting of words and phrases that are regarded as very informal, are more common in speech than writing, and are typically restricted to a particular context or group of people.

It’s a shame when words expire,
Especially the vernacular,
Like pizazz and balderdash;
Such words are quite spectacular.

Gadzooks has long been dead
And other words are dying.
Lost are darn and drat it,
In desuetude they are lying.

scallywag, twerp and wally,
Scoundrel, bounder, cad,
Have passed away and gone,
Their day they all have had.

No more nincompoops or rotters,
They rolled sweetly off the tongue.
So sad to see their passing,
No more we’ll hear them sung.

As for pillocks and rapscallions,
They’ve all died and gone to heaven,
Where they can still be rascals,
While awaiting Armageddon.

On Being Cantankerous

Testy now, and truculent,
Jumping to conclusions,
I tend to speak before I’ve thought,
A source of some confusions.

When I was young and in my prime
I would have paused and pondered
Before I’d let my mouth run free;
My mind would not have wandered.

Now, grumpy and cantankerous,
I’ve no wish to be told,
Despite the fact the signs are there,
That I am growing old.

For age and life have brought to me
Such exasperation
That now I speak my forthright mind,
Inviting much vexation.

Now I’m content to be quite brusque,
To stir up some dissent.
My time of life has brought disdain,
I’ll say just what I meant.

With one foot in the waiting grave
Why pussyfoot around?
Just tell it as it is, my friend,
No comebacks underground.

 

Vicissitude

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

A word arose from out of nowhere
‘Vicissitude’ it said to me;
Wrenched from somewhere deep inside, 
It felt as though it had to be. 

Long, not easy to pronounce, 
Its meaning vague, irrelevant. 
Just a word, devoid of meaning, 
Neither neat nor elegant.

But full of promise, of expectation, 
Why it appeared I could not say;
Rolled off the tongue with but a murmur;
Perhaps a poem was on its way.

When I researched and felt its import,
Then it was I realised
That words jump out and take a hold;
They do not live to be despised.

They have a life that’s all their own;
They have an ache to be pronounced, 
To demonstrate their unique depth
To live, to love, to be announced.

‘Vicissitude’ is but one word
That truly lives when it is said.
There is a joy in every word –
Heard, used, spoken, or just read.

 

The Thralldom of Words

Photo by ugurlu photographer on Pexels.com

How unreal
Insensate 
Would this life be
Without words
Sterile
Without the sounds to sing my feelings
The joy of Tongue
Touched by language
Threaded through thought
Expressed
In silken sound
Tempered by the vernacular
Enriched by our true poets

Sounds of the lover’s
Throbbing pleasure
Silken sounds
Of the singer of songs
Soulful
sensuous
That’s what it’s all about, Alfie. 

Living life
Loses meaning 
Is unreal 
Without 
The thrall of words
In trusted tomes
Found fables and
The lust for legend
Joy discovered
In mildewed texts
Throbbing with
Sound
Sense
And feeling

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

The Writing’s On The Wall

(Verses using idiomatic expressions)

It’s all over bar the shouting,
Pride goes before a fall;
Another nail in the coffin,
The writing’s on the wall.

“You’ve not a hope in hell’, they said,
“You’re doomed to sink like a stone;
Abandon hope who enters here.”
But the devil looks after his own.

I will not beat about the bush,
Nor bark up that wrong tree.
Yes, it’s back to square one I go,
‘Twixt devil and deep blue sea.

Some time I’ll bite the bullet again,
But till the bitter end
Blood, sweat and tears it is for me
Till I am round the bend.

No I’m not about to bite the dust,
Nor to push up the daisies,
For I am still alive and kicking,
Singing my own  life’s praises.

Yes, the cleft stick that I am in
Is just a cock-and-bull story,
For I will last till the cows come home
In my Land of Hope and Glory.

And when the hue and cry are over
Then I’m  off to the Land of Nod.
When those hell’s bells have sounded.
All’s still in the lap of the gods.

Yes, every dog will have its day,
The writing is on the wall.
Every cloud has a silver lining,
I’m not heading for a fall.

WILLY-NILLY Reduplication

Definition of reduplication in English …

Reduplication in linguistics is a morphological process in which the root or stem of a word (or part of it) or even the whole word is repeated exactly or with a slight change.  (From: Wikipedia)

My word-play attempt (I’ve called it, quite arbitrarily, ‘Willy-Nilly’) at composing  a few Nonsense Verses to link together – however tenuously – a number of the very many examples of reduplication in the English language.

My latest knick-knack
Is a handy-dandy
Criss-cross
Walkie-talkie,
With Wi-Fi;
Better than snail-mail,
It creates a real hubbub
And gives me the harum-scarum
Heebie-jeebies;
But here goes, willy-nilly.

I’m an arty-farty
Culture vulture
I’m not hoity toity
Nor am I a toy-boy;
I love the pell-mell
Hurly-burly
And I don’t shilly-shally;
But I’m really so easy-peasy.
Okey-dokey?

So, let’s hob-nob
And chit-chat;
While the tick-tock
Turns topsy-turvy
And goes ding-dong
And ding-a-ling
We can talk clap-trap.

Don’t be namby-pamby
Keep the bric-a-brac
Ship-shape
And we’ll have tip-top
Tittle-tattle;
No wishy-washy
Fiddle-faddle.

No ping-pong
No higgledy-piggledy
Ding-dongs,
No tom-toms
On the helter-skelter,
Just ship-shape
Pitter-patter
On the see-saw.

So Jeepers-creepers,
Let’s do the hokey-cokey,
The hip-hop
The hootchy-cootchy
and the boogie-woogie.

Let’s be goody-goody
And super-dooper;
Don’t dilly-dally
Let’s get lovey-dovey
And enjoy a little hanky-panky.

I’m not a nit-wit
Nor a bit ga-ga,
Well, maybe itsy-bitsy;
I do yada-yada
And  blah-blah,
But just a teeny-weeny bit.

Now cut the mumbo-jumbo
Get to the nitty-gritty.
When we pow-wow
With the fender-benders,
And have a happy-clappy
Sing-song
A razzmatazz
On the hurdy-gurdy
Wearing flip-flops;
What a mish-mash
And a hodge-podge,
But still mumbo-jumbo
And hocus-pocus.

I can Zig-zag
And razzle-dazzle
With the bee’s-knees
And in the hurly-burly
Cause double-trouble,
‘Cos I’m just an old fuddy-duddy.

So-so,
Night-night!
Bye-bye!
Ta-ta!
Must chop-chop!
I’m off to a chick-flick –
A romcom
Called La-La Land,
To listen to more flimflam.