This year at last
is drifting further each day
Like a wild world in turmoil
Hopes are swimming away
Poisoned promises
Have turned the air sour
Cancelling worn-out moments
That could have made a new hour
The last bells are ringing out
Bringing messages few
Weak lights on a dark night
Are shrinking the view
Photo by JC Gellidon on Unsplash
Secret Cindy steals away
To find her heart’s desire
Until she gets the fire
Her mood is not for sharing
Her only counsel is herself
Meeting inward points of view
Discussing old books on her shelf
Secret Cindy making waves
Causing early waves to slow
Swept back on the beach again
Where discoveries steal her show
She’s not singing any old song
Nor calling out new tunes
Thoughts are raining down on her
Crowding out her afternoons
Mother Malevolent
pulling strings
Power projector
Queen of schemes
Thought injector
Spiteful dreams
Cauldron conniver
fostering screams
Pursuing the spoils
In drowning streams
Begin a rhyme with gobbledygook
To raise a hullabaloo
I can’t think of anything politer
Than words impossible to glue
Avoiding Kakorrhaphiophobia
Finifugal almost beaten
My aim to be largiloquent
When ickle hardly eaten
I twist my tongue Saccadic
In a cattywampus stew
Pulling up my salopettes
I now find mabble overdue
Gobbledygook: a meaningless language
Hullabaloo: a commotion
Kakorrhaphiophobia: fear of failure
Finifugal: afraid of finishing anything
Largiloquent: talkative; full of words
Ickle: Little
Saccadic: jerky; twitching
Cattywampus: askew
Salopettes: high-waisted skiing pants with shoulder straps
Mabble: to wrap up
Man at a bar reading a newspaper (Flo-Master pen and pastel) by Norman Cornish (1919–2014) @GrimArtGroup
Back then, a quiet read
No telephone in sight,
no exasperating ring
no uninvited shadows
crowd my light
Standing calmly checking items
An empty pub my sanctuary.
Before the filling magic hour
With cool projected parity
Prepared to take a light year nap
Completed setting-up controls
No need to make a homeward map
Just float around the starlight shoals
I’m thinking neoterically
A keen eye on potential
Bouncing on a stellar beam
Espial gravity beneficial
Who knows where I’m off to
Most unlikely I’ll return
Those pieces I once called a place
No longer my concern
For those of us unshaven mugs
Beware of bristling woes
Below the chin, where collars rub
Spikey problems pose
Lest the lower neck is bristle-free
One may encounter needle stabs
Syringe-like scratches painfully
Giving the screaming habdabs
Brizleblades are ambush-ready
Impulsive spikes on neckline rubs
Razor-sharp incision digs
These teeny-weeny stickpin stubs
Money loans invisible tricks
Make too much of nothing
For as it turns out promises
May end in mattress stuffing
Promises not responsible
To undermine a special trust
Eventually, the truth will out
The way difficulties must
Exhilaration with celebration
Manic moments of ‘right now’
Where the one-way ticket riders
Hope to find their holy cow
He was beauty-blessed, self-centred
With an ultimate enhancement
No jewel or precious metal
Could embellish his advancement
Enchanted by hallucinations
His importance absolute with love
No greater joy could be bestowed upon
For there was nothing else above
Without stain or indiscretion
To dim his glimmer pressed upon
Surrounded by a crowd that bowed
Affirmed eternally their swan
Histories made in memories
Shooting pictures from the hip
Recording happy holidays
On a break or special trip
Spells fixed for reminiscences
In frames and shuffle stacks
Found in albums or shoe boxes
Some as-yet unopened packs
Candid situations caught
Captured poses unexpected
Adding detail to a story
Where truth lies unsuspected
From the complexity of being
To the state of all gone by
Where the hall evaporated
In final whispers of a sigh
In the briefest time, fugacious
Freefalling in that way
Following an abstract light
Toward the aftermath of play
Along a level playing field
On such a personal parade
No conversation or opinion
A final primal escapade
Everything will strive to be
The way it’s always been
Changes lead to penalties
Of festering flow unclean
To inflict those vigorous changes
On a leadership machine
Is not an overnight affair
Or finger-snappy intervene
It’s what the public visualises
Of the benefits long-term
If ‘something new’ becomes belated
Then past times will reaffirm
On a quiet November Thursday
A different time unsealed
Staring out uneasily
Unclear what then revealed
Dynamically, it seemed as though
Something odd we didn’t get
Had turned up unexpectedly
A circus twist reset
We stared agog with wonder
Struggled hard for clarity
At the size of many painted folk
Demanding more prosperity
A place to be misunderstood
Where law was second-guessed
To wealth’s self-preservation
Leaving have-nots unaddressed
Money as you like it
In your bank or purse
If you put it that way
For better or for worse
Something you can count on
A hidden strength
To see you through
A form of quiet interest
Growing old stuff into new
Providing chancy options
You might seek to rearrange
Taking benefits from differences
By gaining much from change
Money is the backbone
Desiring faith in your belief
A means to measure valuables
When in need of some relief
Dancing by the bonfire, hot
Keep clear and not too near
The spectre of November nights
Sparkled party of the year
Heat the soup and mull the ale
Fire the sky with awe
Remember each November
That terrible night before
Spare a penny for the Guy
Whose night of massacre exposed
A brutal time of mass destruction
Self-righteous die-hards juxtaposed
When essentials are nowhere about
Vanishing at odd times, they do
Instinctively seeming to sneak off elsewhere
Inaccessible as if acting on cue
In our house, we have a provision
On hand to uncover our loss
Our materfamilias, Pauline
Locates rolling stones without moss
She can ferret each corner or rut
Analysing fragmentary facts
Like a ‘KC’ in court detection is sport
The ‘missing’ no chance to relax
Mislaying can frustrate one’s needs
Leaving losers no loose ends to share
With Pauline, we learn, no stone left to turn
Regains the misplaced from despair
Panic stations tremble by
City quivering fantasies
Shuddering and shouldering
Locked in wild conspiracies
Anticipations meaningless
Many places one could go
Another rampant Friday race
Wishing time was not so slow
Posters proudly brandishing
What any buyer might afford
Where disappointed money goes
A lawless case of no reward
Me and that wise monkey
We’re sitting up a tree
He’s no run-of-the-mill monkey
So much cleverer than me
He can dance on a branch
I just skip around on the ground
He’s no run-of-the-mill monkey
So much cleverer than me
Me, I don’t like it when it rains
He just sits beneath a broad leaf
He’s no run-of-the-mill monkey
So much cleverer than me
Looking back in time
experiencing how slow
The changes occur
But what do we know
Is there an optimum
That highlights the show
Something enduring
That refuses to go
Perhaps they are stations
We cannot outgrow
Back there are they waiting
In memory row
Picture by Daniel Toal @danieltoalwild
Wildlife & Nature Photographer | Conservationist | Volunteer Warden for the Woodland Trust
October Mornings on a melancholy day
Sad farewell Feelings of moving on
Time has taken its upfront toll in advance
We let our summer songs disappear to gone
But there is new music arriving in harmony
It matches the blends of a rich evening glow
Giving reassurances to a new generation
Where the seeds of newness strive to grow
There, in the soft silence of a secret coppice
Lays the future of a luscious birth in waiting
To return life in all its glorious sweetness
A continuum without hesitating
Laughing hinted frequently
Approved expressions loud
A girth of mirth expunging
Like downpours from a cloud
Infectious in a happy crowd
Brings companionship as one
In one-for-all togetherness
Everybody having fun
Didn’t we ‘have a laugh’ last night
All together mad as hatters
Quaffing, slurping, swapping quips
And crying in our platters
Seeing areas all at once
Looking for a special route
Referring to a recent start
Judging speed of each commute
Planning ways to other means
Mental snapshots on the ground
Acknowledging best ways to go
Identifying places found
The map describing freedom
Where open minds engage
Tolerating points of view
With prospects on each page
Winter lands with rugged verve
Scratching icy fingers
Digging out deep remnants
Where summer living lingers
Autumn plays deceitful tricks
Painting glowing dying leaves
It makes extra room for icy voices
Among the winter gathered thieves
Winter nights bring winter tales
Curtained windows and thick shawls
As the wind flaps, taps and tatty raps
Howling through the echoed halls
Eleven billion little cells
Slotted in a busy row
Ringing little pesky bells
Of notions possible to know
Pointless interruption spikes
Disrupting all important things
A foam of senseless bubbles
Flying down on earthbound wings
Then at once I change my mind
Can I be in charge at all
When tracking vast activity
In my small, enormous hall
Suddenly I appreciate
The sheer simplicity
Another way
A brand-new route
A trail of eccentricity
Changing from the old rules
To forge ahead in oddity
Being more selective
To avoid commodity
Different is a lonely path
Tested by regret
Walking deep in otherness
Where too much novelty
Feels like threat
Serenely sitting gazing
Her silence captivated
A secret world well hidden
Which, to others fascinated
Her face, a mask, did not betray
A possibility or inkling
Nothing like an empty head exists
There is much more within a twinkling
Electric lights are holding sway
Intriguing visions mesmerising
Blocking sounds of questions
She remains uncompromising
Undecided mornings
Early Autumn variation
Leaves are waiting for
October gust remediation
Minds are being made up
Permit decisions in their wake
Things to do now must be done
Preserving Winters give and take
In a time of almost nearly
Words were whispered in a squall
Floating cloudlike temporarily
Suspended waiting for a fall
Silently they drifted down
To be scattered in the dust
Never bound within an almanac
No more in future times discussed
Preservation was implausible
Merely rumours passed on by
Held by some as brand-new myths
Where no one bothers asking why
Setting out to understand
The kind of you that came
No state of pre-existence
Yet you became your name
Cautiously, you came to be
One of many in disguise
And as that new grew into you
You were equally surprised
A winding tale unspecified
Barely hinting truths of you
Which of you will you be settled
On the changing face of you
Tycoons dominate with cash
Chasing growth abundant
Cutting costs by paying less
To employees made redundant
The money men voraciously
Have a grip on every penny
Trading on the sympathies
Of those who don’t have any
Paying people what they're worth
Is not the going rate
When expenses claims are spiralling
We can't let profit wait
Life is a constant dashing line
It is curved bent and distorted
A wild horse random galloping
To illogical rooms transported
With stops and starts in many parts
Back and forth to some returns
Laughing days and broken hearts
In a trance of drifting light
Straying out in space
Rootless in the rapid waves
In a current interlace
To not be caught in confines
Come and go at will
Rolling down and up again
Deep into the spill
All around continuing
For there is no other choice
No sounds of explanation
In the starlight astral voice
Out there in foreverness
Where the most unlimited wait
Unavailable to the everything
No time to count the date
Not part of sense or movement
Not a hurdle in the way
A widespread state of absence
Where there is no night or day
Neither peaceful nor disordered
Sleepless, never wide awake
Emptiness with no regard
Blankness weightlessness opaque
Hearing rumours that the internet
Has lost its human way
Lots of bots are airing thoughts
Games of Lies out on display
The problem is that media
Has been distrusted for a while
As biased with one-sidedness
Talking cobblers that beguile
Propaganda for the masses
In mockery of the facts
Ill-conceived to be believed
A one-man band of pacts
That's the way we did it back then
Sitting hopeful by the stream
Maybe catch a couple or a few
A Perch a Pike or Bream
Adverse weather frequently
It never put us off
Back home with fixed expressions
For a wee dram for the cough
A tale will need five pages
To write a reading invitation
Making use of tempting words
That needs little explanation
The plan may not be obvious
As the best plots will digress
Lures attract the reader’s eyes
Allowing views to second-guess
A story, in conclusion, ends
Not always as it might
Leading one way then another
Surprising endings late at night
Living with many messages
One strives to get their meaning
Not always clear or understood
Not always easy on the gleaning
Some strike you like a punchline
And take your breath away
Others leave you in the wilderness
With odd directions, holding sway
In the pointlessness of questions
Posed in need of explanations
A futile quest of number jumbles
To going nowhere destinations
