Closing Down

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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

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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
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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

Interstellar Panatela (Oumuamua)

TED Talk Link

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Something’s up there swinging by

What it is we’re still unsure

Swift propelled at super speed

Extremely weird and quite obscure

It could be visiting our locality

To look at teeming alien life

A super civilised delving probe

Or junk discarded running rife

It seems we have been working on

Sending out a likewise craft

Using brilliant powered light impelled

To show our neighbours we’re not daft

What might we call our voyager

To where no earthling ever went

I’m thinking simply Henri Winterman

Or King Edward heaven sent

Sagittarius A*

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To you and me we might agree

That holes have nothing much inside

But our universe has lots of them

In many places, they reside

Absorbing anything that gets too close

Sweeps all and sundry outsides in

Like a planetary landfill site

A super mashing trash stuffed bin

Metal bones and rolling stones

Our Black Hole painted Vanta black

Turning all we know and ever knew

Less than the point of a carpet tack

No need to shout the end is nigh

The sucking distance is so vast

In terms of when our time is up

Our distant futures will have past

The Thing Is

What is a thing? You ask yourself

You close your eyes and wonder what?

How the lack of good descriptions

Lend formless clues to what it's not 

When it comes to wondering what to wear

There’s not a thing to dress your mood

Some things may not exist at all

And those that do you don’t include

When talking things they pop up first

The thing you didn't think quite through

That out of context random thing

The oddest thing which sums up you

It can be rare to find a living thing

As those with life are things agreed

All in all the thing that carries weight

Is the perfect thing indeed

Based on:

A New-Fangled Rhyme

I got this new idea today

A ‘Twitter’ new suggestion

On trying something new untried

To free me up from dull congestion

So many things I haven’t tried

Because I gave them little thought

Like hopping backwards on the spot

Or with my cat may teleport

Whenever new is on the cards

It may bring on mixed emotions

Thoughts of dread and trepidation

That cause unwarranted commotions

But then again pursuing new

Is where the fresh and lively run

To be surprised revitalised

Involved where new things have begun

So here’s another brand-new line

That I have never written twice

About something, I know not yet

To give my life a brand-new slice

Cheers Mo@themicropoett

Chocolate Shapes Me

“A good piece of chocolate is like a good piece of music

 It contains something memorable that stays on your mind for the entire day.”

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I have an ear for chocolate

A smooth and soothing symphony

Notating taste bud elegance

Sweetheart strains drift tunefully

The calming pleasure of this sweet refrain

Each movement perfect pitch and tone

A grace and flavour ode to joy

Each masterpiece a restful drone

My much-loved chocolate melody

Sweet composition serenade 

To tease and please my sensitivity

My chocolate orchestra parade