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