Funny That!

A joker’s strident punch lines
Can make one gag and choke
In twisted ways of speaking
Delivering giggleprods that poke

Indulgent easy interludes
Held in close anticipation
Sharing journeys into travesty
Aching ribs and palpitations

Humour spreads a knowing look

In raucous repartee

Much more than amusing

In laughs spectacularly

When Choice is Not a Given

 

The cruelty of winter nights

Are no man’s choice to be infused 

For the comfort of a dancing flame

Will melt away the lost confused

 

Living laidback in the hostile dusks

Seeking out a sheltered wall

Fighting back the changing minds

When wind and rain decide to call

 

Directions unpredictable

On those decisions left too late

Will leave the hungry tired and lonely

With little else to do but wait

 

 

A Few Words

Sitting by an empty page

Defiantly it waits

Aimlessly I tap out words

As my thinking undulates

 

In conversation with my head

I wonder in and out of lines

An exercise of insignificance

As fortitude declines

 

Still grappling with my emptiness

No point in getting annoyed

What is it that I need to say

To release me from this void

Plausible

 

Could be, might be probably

Feasible not in doubt

As everything is viable

If one sits and works, it out

 

Any idea one may invent

Might not happen all at once

Filtering and cleaning up

New sections, altered chunks

 

Outcomes are the favoured goal

To take one somewhere else instead

At first, propound and then astound

Moving on full steam ahead

 

 

Midwinter Times

On a chilly winter evening

Where cold was still allowed

People wore their woolly coats

Bunched up in a crowd

 

Little Princess Snowflake

Rang out her wishing bell

Spreading happiness to everyone 

Passing tails around to tell

 

Special nights for dreaming

Mulled wine served sweet and hot

Cheerily they pranced and danced

Spinning blissful on the spot

 

Mouths were singing steamy

Foggy songs in winter air

In get together company

A twilight world with much to share

What a Day For a Cliché

 

 

Time to write a Cliché Rhyme

I’ll knuckle down to fit the bill

To romp along in leaps and bounds

On the far side of the hill

 

With every fibre of my being

It’s only a matter of time

So, I’ll jump in with both feet

A Stick in the mud will draw the line

 

I won’t beat around the bush

With devils in the details

By banging heads against the walls

As grist to the mill entails

 

A Cliché may be tried and true

Depicting trials and tribulations

No wild goose chase to weed them out

Or broken record compilations

 

Engulfed

 

Overdue and out of date

Saying nothing out of turn

No time for pointless comments

Keeping check on each concern

 

Incapable of siding with

Substitutes for common sense

Where the reckless cannot find a clue

To a more intuitive defence

 

Underwhelmed by possibilities

Lacking any kind of spark

Disregarding all instructions

Steeped in different kinds of dark

Reinvention

 

Something very ordinary

When November frosts arrive

They bring a silent sense of living

Although somehow half-alive

 

It’s where the end finds new beginning

Through a tunnel travelled light

What time is love expected here

No thoughts of day or night

 

Spoken promises of better times

New ways are born in mind

Dreaming now of unspoilt greenery

Strange realities unwind

Armistice

 

When the Kings and Queens of Europe

Decided war must be avowed

Spilling floods of soldier blood

When common decency was cowed

 

Leaders of the vested interests

Who called the best of men to fight

Being bludgeoned in the filth and mire

To do their duty day and night

 

In the carnage of the Great War

Such anguish brought upon

Bringing heartache to our families

Even though the war was won

Sour Drapes

 

Treading water on a slippery shore

Amid the rocks and mud

Considering lack of changes made

Expressed in promises carved in blood

 

The cold wind morning messenger

Brings new truths plain to see

Allowing sanctimonious arrogance

Free rein in lost society

 

Factions bay for retributions

Laying blame on unlocked doors

Plead to trade all freedoms gained

From the hard-won loss of wars

 

Dressed in cloaks of pageantry

Lamenting leadership decayed

Where once upon their elevations 

No longer winning games they played

 

 

Risky Business

 

In this game of hit-and-miss

A calculation of the odds

A roulette wheel’s uncertainty

Spinning bouncing number nods

 

Is this the day it goes my way

Despite random revolutions

Could it be my ESP

Has tapped into solutions

 

I fool myself and place a bet

With fingers crossed in case

Whilst mesmerised I lose my shirt

Then bankruptcy I face

There's no such thing as friendly cards

Lucky numbers are not dates

The loser hopes for lucky breaks

But can't afford the stakes

 

Calamity

 

Thunderstorms and torrents

Tsunamis hurricanes

Ripping earthquakes and tornados

Volcanos spitting change

 

Famine, plague, rife wantonness

Crops are rotting in the field

A crazy world in turmoil

Kings and castles cannot shield

 

Bacterium and viruses 

Putrefying rampant spores

Yet still rapacious beings

Fighting vile God-driven wars

 

Psychopaths now write the rules

For their sycophantic factions

Who salutes the mighty monstrous

In the blind-eyed call for actions

A Basket Case

 

Always remember 

When doing a wash

The soap needs 

A competent rinse

Keeping the fabric 

From sticking like glue

Making clothes look 

The worst ever since

For soap will remove 

The foulest of stuff

Killing all 

That we left intertwined

Discarding the crumpled 

Disparaging state

Returning exquisite 

A fine piece to find

The Office

 

Monday morning much maligned

Begins the working week

Travelling reluctantly

Nowhere near one’s peak

 

The office uninspiringly

Offers little chance to cheer

As insipid smiles arriving

With platitudinous veneer

 

A nearby kettle bubbling

Sends out a steamy note

Then stirring chinks and spoonful clinks

Sets all resolve afloat

Realization

Pictures, slogans, crowded eyes.

Exclamations hints, temptations

Consistently bombarding with

So many pointless invocations

 

Like panhandling in a goldmine

Where we imagine shimmering gold

Working hard for future laziness

A chilly study of the bold

 

In youth, we look for loyalty

To stand together proud

Trusting life is more than drudgery

Dancing blissfully out loud

 

Obstinate

 

They sit together waiting

Feeling both are on the brink

Observing how the time frame

Is forever in the blink

 

Some use a bitter opening

To impose their point of view

Just in case another mind

Has found a better way to do

 

They agree to set a deadline

To give each view some clarity

Then deviate until too late
By then agree to disagree