Limitless

Either way

we find ourselves

Where we sit 

and how we fit

Minute or gigantic

Titanic bulk 

or teensy bit

Indeed we are 

the space between

A got together

fleeting slot

Such abundance

at our fingertips

In who we are 

And when we’re not

Add to that our

constant changes

That must leave 

though never go

A universe of

changing places

So hard to be 

yet even so

What’s Your Poison?

What’s your poison whiskey gin

On either or I am sanguine 

Tasteless vodka spirit hit

So, no one near will notice it

Rum refreshes empty cups

A brandy fix restores your ups

All in all, the champagne thrills

‘til eyelids droop and temper spills

Come on, come on just one more drink

To bring my head back from the brink

Then lay in bed sleep like a log

Arise red-eyed salute the hairy dog

The Time Draws Near for Flowering

When that time

Of Christmas boxes

Once a heartfelt day 

Of giving

Taking steps

In bringing goodwill

To those struggling

For a living

 

Not standing by 

Indifferently

Watching failure 

In its plight

Aid those in strife

To fight for life

On a wintry 

Silent night

Empires of humanity

Covert closely

Spoils of war

Ensuring grips

On castle keeps

Deceitful ways

Of grabbing more

That now defines the law

Story based on Wenceslas

Footnote

Songs are so much more than sound

Each word’s sincere proposing

To keep a lookout filled with promises

Not judging homelessness with loathing

Merry Cherries

Summer’s distant memory

Autumn’s long farewell

Last year grieves its fallen leaves

To the ring of twilight's bell

At this solstice time of winter

In the dark of dank December

A time for jolly interludes

Around Yuletide’s fiery ember

Celebrate with family folk

Wintry weather cheering eats

Conserves preserves and nutty things

And a stocking full of treats

In the Moot

Midwinter is upon us

There's darkness in the air

The winter log is burning

A feast we must prepare

We stand awhile and listen

The drooping touch of silent snow

Voices singing by death's door

Allows the old year one last show

Tonight together in the moot

We will dance until the dawn

Here in the hours of Yuletide

Once again the light reborn

By The Way

Way back many rhymes ago

I felt inclined by lyrical leanings

Having bought a decent dictionary

Researching words and meanings

I read a lot of well-known Bards

Was amazed at their impressions

Their depth of feeling had no ceiling

And such a way with their expressions

I would read each take to root out fake

Contriving not to be synthetic 

Lacking eloquence and prominence

Not at all I thought poetic

Though I carried on with hopeful heart

My prose would always end up rhyming

Clever things I could not conjure up

To work with rhythm pace and timing

Wu-wei

LINK: Trying not to try

Staring at the unknown void

A fragile vision eye-line sight

Not inviting or exciting me

To see the wrong thing in the right

Feeling little else but kindliness

Letting go of strong positions

The kind that bury happiness

In the mulch of hard decisions

To stand aside from taking sides

And never sitting on the fence

I keep away from waiting rooms

Where aimless conflicts may commence

"wu-wei is probably best rendered as something like “effortless action” or “spontaneous action.” 
Being in wu-wei is relaxing and enjoyable, 
but in a deeply rewarding way that distinguishes it from cruder or more mundane pleasures."

Shame On You Squanderers

When the old folk steal the future from the young folk,
They will not forgive you.

 If the feelings all agreed upon

Hang around in easy air

Anytime a disagreement starts

Mutual feelings share despair

When a bust-up makes it difficult

For hidden reasons from a sleight 

Where front doors take a second place

For backstop callers late at night

It would be nice if memories didn’t fade

On mutuality once respected

The selflessness of long-term friendship

Protected from the biased unexpected

The hand shake is a dodgy game

Skirting covenants navigated

A change of mind to suit the kind

Fat headed ego’s so inflated

Remember what we really must

Provide the best for all our young

It is their ladder we must help them climb

Not for us to grease each rung

May We Be Forgiven

Whatever may become of us

The maypole has me spinning

We may or may not turn out well

We may not feel that we are winning

There may still be quite a way before
Among the may's and maybe nots
When a call for may she rest in piece
They may in secret have drawn lots

Maybe come the revolution

When the May Queen abdicates

And takes away the come what may

We may still have euro mates

Sanctuary (Free Trial)

In a corridor surrounded

Checking every open door

Looking in deciding

Is it here I can’t be sure

Is this a dream or my reality

A way-out game where I pretend

To be in charge of where I want to be

Or in some tangled senseless bend

Maybe I cannot hide in corners

Leaving me in there exposed

In a circle waiting for my turn

Until completely diagnosed

If I may Say So

Out there in the everywhere

On our rotating dotty ball

Looking out for finest structures

To find the answers to it all

Checking out the alpha constant

And the strength of interaction

To shrink or stretch the universal glue

Rejecting any error’s fraction

With all our standard models flawed

Variations on the wing

Leaving prayers on heavens stairs

Discover clues to everything

So, one day in the not far off

We’ll have the lowdown on the lot

A theory of entirety

And the answer to our plot

The whole shebang on string will hang

A ball of wax intact

Our universe at last well known

Where the ultimate is fact

Based on Marcus Chown article

'The NumberThat Holds The Universe Together Is Changing'

BBC FOCUS issue 330 Christmas 2018

Baked Views

Exactly as I thought it was

After much investigation

Weighing up the facts and figures

Thinning out pure speculation

Lots and lots of ready reckonings

Testing origins and roots

No divesting or suggesting

By ruling out purports and moots

In due course without remorse

The past was cast aside

Smothered by another way to be

Where everything must coincide

Fill your Boots

 Another year is drawing near

But as the old one drains away

Sucking bucket loads of credit cash

To start a new one in dismay

Midwinter’s needs for so much joy

Summer plentiful long gone

We need a glitter compensation

A lavish-do to set upon

We’ll order much excessively

More than is sensible to store

Throw caution to the wind and spend

On stuff that most won’t need for sure

Then here to there and back and forth

Bubbled up with with “ho, ho, ho’s”

Getting sleighed and festive weighed

Drowned out with TV shows

Not much solace in December here

The shops are begging hard for bucks

Enticing all to not miss out

As latest must haves are the crux

How Much For That?

STORY LINK

Defining fair transactions

Pursuing valuables exchanged

Using measurements to indicate

Honest dealings well arranged

When counting up and dishing out

The special weights of milk and honey

To meet the grade for certain prices paid

And not be short changed on the money

Exactitude cannot be misconstrued
The finest points though hard to see
For there in tiniest quantities
One finally meets with accuracy

A replica of the International Prototype Kilogram

at the Cité des Sciences et de l’Industrie in Paris.

Japs88/Wikimedia Commons

Waiting for A Train

Link to Picture by Vengolis - Wikimedia Commons 

It was just a conversation

That turned up uninvited

Sitting nearby on two tables

A café space somehow united

The talk at first indifferent

Unsure what should be said

Too early for opinions

They talked of anything instead

Both denying they were in a trap

Of living treadmill locomotion

Yet wryly eyeing out for signs

To join in with the walking ocean

Looking out the café widow

The crowd outside now in full flow

Mindless drone like racing pigeons

A dancing quickstep on the go

December Weather Here

Struggling in mid-winter mist

As darkness stretches into light

Foggy hands reach out then drop

In the slippery morning night

Frosted whispers scald my cheeks

Bothering steps, I dare to take

Not allowing warmth to generate

Still feeling less than wide awake

Drizzle rain though gentle penetrates

My insufficient ragged cloak

Any distance walked on days like this

Is a far too meddling heavy yoke

Closing Down

STORY LINK

December’s looking down at heel

High streets have the footfall blues

Shopping bags with room to spare

Compete with latest online views

How long will heavy overheads

Be justified to load the price

As profits fail to meet the rents

A business skating on thin ice

No store has 'Sales' immunity

Everyone feels profits pain

Jobs are disappearing fast

We won't see them again

The hubbub of the market place

Where something more is going on

The ‘Seeing is Believing’ show

May soon be ‘Something Once’ now gone

It’s worth noting how the going out

Gave expectation and surprise

As online pleasures turned to house arrest

Where no one ventures out and buys

At the Third Stroke

STORY LINK

Second guessing is reduced again

Lesser cost to borrowed time

Allowing focus on the price of tick

Affecting hours and how bells chime

The rhyme of swinging pendulums

Remains our meter metronome

Irrespective of a moment’s spell

Time is oscillation prone

They’re winding up the elements

To know exactly how time flies

When vacillation is defeated

And best transition then applies

A billionth of a billionth

Means Ytterbium streaks ahead

As long as universal factors

Agree that atoms aren’t misled

Here's One For Harry

(Image via @iconbooks )

The underdog who has no bark

Rarely gets a chance to bite

From life’s mishaps a share of scraps

No option for respite

For those who have the much of it

Complain the most about the poor

As if the consequence of circumstance

Is merely Mother Nature’s law

Calling out the starving scrounger

At the lowest point in life

For being lazy lacking aptitude

Therefore, deserving of his strife

If the ladder that you find yourself

Has rungs replaced with empty spaces

Without a hand to pull you up

There’ll be no chance of better places

Salute the favoured through coincidence

Bestowed with reassuring guides

Given confidence and self-belief

Along with all that cash provides

The cunning guy controls supply

Cutting best deals for the pack

Conserving and preserving grace

Granting ne’er do well’s no slack

And if by luck you earn a cosy buck

A state provisional at best

The power brokers good idea

Will work out ways to grab your chest.

Asapriately Soon

In the land of Dillydallying

Where they play the waiting game

Never taking action hastily

Or being first ones to proclaim

Their General wears a Dither Ring

A golden robe of Shilly-Shally

When hanging back is clearly seen

In Tarry Halt by Dawdle Alley

Seldom rushed to make a final choice

For the best time is next week

And all agree that soon they’ll see

That staying put is quite unique

They are certain that uncertainty

Assures delays give up a hand

Allowing longer seaside holidays

Spent by Wavering on the Sand

Normality's Calamity

What is normal who can say

There is danger in the mode

Accepting only group agreements

Another 'Just Like Us' commode

Normality a testing truth

For those who candidly debate

Not bowing to the partisan

Who follow in a trance like state

Dubious passions lauding

The group enforcing what is right

Irrespective of the neutral view

Responds to either black or white

My Lucky Numbers

I love the promise of propitious

And the providence it brings

Or the idea that one’s destiny

Is full of fluky timely things

Clinking glasses saying cheers

When I hear the tolling bell

Taking chances on a rabbit’s foot

Throw pennies in a wishing well

If the stars are in disorder

Talent doesn’t have a hope

Your life-effect is can’t connect

Without a mojo in your scope

Take my advice forget all that

Hang nine numbers on your line

No special tricks no wizard fix

Another way to misplace nine

Maths is just a numbers game

When on their own don’t give jot

Yet play them thoughtfully together

They’ll show the way out of your spot

About Roughly

Can it wait replied the busy cat

I’m doing all my do’s in queue’s

Full of stuff I put off yesterday

I’ve got the nagging pressure blues

Not a wink of sleep through chatter

My inner me and I converse

Getting nowhere with defensive pleas

No matter how much we rehearse

The morning light comes scary through

Like a cutthroat’s sharpened knife

Bringing weight to bear on everywhere

Our riddled clocks are running rife

Fireflies with spotlight accuracy

Their hinting concepts buzzing swarm

As we prepare to take on everything

Pursuing side-line forms of norm

I See

Eyes, the conduit of knowledge

Looking curiously and seeing

A blend of outward with the inward

Daydreaming on just being

Observing every game they play

With a view to taking chances

Dipping silent toes in water

Plotting ways to make advances

Eyes are looking at the world

Some have worked out how to be

By continuing the line of life

To pass on different ways to see

The Telling Way

Telling jokes for story’s sake

A wish to make a listener laugh

Surprising tales with daft details

Where the truth gets cut in half

Some jokes whet the appetite

Demanding crackers served up dry

Rousing minds with punchline finds

Served with sparklers in the eye

There are some folk who rarely laugh

They are the jewels that joker’s prize

For their demands ironically 

Hold the key to yarn’s disguise

We’ve Been Framed

A voter choice of ‘Yes’ or ‘No’

Based on scenarios unknown

Yet vote they did to just get rid

And face the future all alone

Is this bloody good or madly bad

To answer that is complicated

So choice is spelled out in book

A muddled pack to be debated

Two years on and still we strive

To understand the implications

That stress how far apart we are

As disunited bordered nations

United Kingdom may well split apart

Little enclaves  clans and cliques

Closed societies uncooperative

Quaintly polishing antiques

Gut Filling

Ill-advised and over sanitised

Insanely scrubbed and cleaned

Misguided in our health pursuits

Over treated and machined

We over do the medicines

That scrub and scour our gastral pipes

Skim away good reinforcements

To suffer disinfected gripes

Our life maintaining micro-bods

That keep our vigour and our shape

Along with all our less desirables

Flushed away by sterile scrape

Not much security in purity

We’ve let obsession drive our life

Not by washing hands or cleaning pans

Down where digestion suffers strife

Our microbe team can keep us lean

They send us messages succinct

We must increase their population

And listen to our ‘Gut-Instinct’

Professor Tim Spector
STORY LINK

Ideally

Working quietly on a project

Tools and implements at hand

Doing things the way they should be done

Not necessarily as was planned

Accomplishing a one-off task

Where reward is by degree

While the challenge is fulfilling

Each new idea becomes a key

The beauty of the art and craft

Goes beyond the here and now

At thinking pace will find a place

Unearthing other ways to how

F**k It

Words we speak misunderstood

Not unreasoning or rude

Though often summing up our thoughts

Leaving meaning slightly skewed

Hot air phrases voicing gloominess 

In maddening situations

Despairing at the lack of flow

Venting off our intimations

It’s what we do with disappointment

When everything is said and done

No matter how we tried with pride

We’re left with ‘F**K-It’ nothing’s won

Pork Piety

Oh my, oh my, I love pork pie

A chunk of scrumptious munch

Works well with English mustard

Anytime especially lunch

With mushy peas baked beans and chips

Or with a sturdy Ploughman’s tuck

Unadorned a perfect stand alone

There’ll be no waste to chuck

Oh how I do adore pork pie

Every buffet’s favourite wish

If made with love and understanding

There is no finer coupled dish