April 28, 2017

 

 

Beyond the realms of madness

on a planet far away,

lies the devil waiting

in the hope one will go astray.

 

Beyond the realms of reason

testing out ones strength,

lies the old persuader

who will go to any length.

 

Beyond the realms of sadness

in a world of yesterday,

lies half dead, the subconscious

since love went away.

 

Beyond the realms of tomorrow

no future can there be,

where tears have formed an ocean

and one marooned for eternity.

 

 

 

 

The ghost of Abacus Bendy

lived at the bottom of the well

and only came out in the evenings

at the sound of the Trinity bell.

 

The soul of Abacus Bendy

stayed grounded after he died,

unlike other souls in the vicinity

that went on a mystery ride.

 

The ghost of Abacus Bendy –

quite harmless and full of play,

came up to dry out at twilight

after resting in the well all day.

 

The friends of Abacus Bendy –

pond-life who wouldn’t tell,

were undisturbed by the nightly rituals

at the sound of the Trinity bell.

 

 

 

 

 

Never to have had that moment,

never to have had that hit.

Never to have laid wide open,

your heart, your soul, your it.

 

Never to have yearned and conquered,

never to have struck that note.

Never to have lost your senses,

never to have, on someone dote.

 

Never to have seen such madness,

never to have lost control.

Never to have been there, done that,

never to have lived life whole.

 

 

 

 

Silver Service

out on view.

A luscious bite

with every chew.

 

A stolen spoonful

is pure delight!

whilst a finger full

dulls appetite.

 

And eyes said it all

without words spoken,

as silence fell

and hearts were broken,

 

as elbows rested

on the table,

and mouths wide open

saw teeth unstable,

 

when just by chance,

a random satellite

dropped by and set

the world alight,

 

and a candle that,

by force was blown,

created havoc –

rude words were sworn.

 

as whitest linen

set alight,

and napkins waved

in mid flight.

 

For Silver Service

out on view,

meant nothing to

the thousands who,

 

had gate-crashed there

from near and far,

to witness Edgar’s

last hur-rah.

 

And Sheffield’s finest

turned to rust,

now finger bowls –

a daily must.

 

And fish forks now

deemed out of date,

were seen stabbing pickles –

in a way most inappropriate!

 

And clamps for crabs

and winkle pickers,

replaced with fingers

by nose pickers.

 

And burps were heard

as tummies rumbled,

and chairs fell backwards

as folks tumbled.

 

And bread rolls pocketed

by the meanest,

as Daisy’s pants revealed –

and not the cleanest!

 

And around the room

the satellite still spun –

some guests too full

to move and run,

 

sat there in horror

fighting over clotted cream

dripping from a jug –

desert, now just a dream.

 

Until old Edgar’s mates,

quickly withdrew,

returning to the pub

and the life they knew,

 

where pork scratchings

were devoured;

cometh the men –

all action powered.

 

While ladies threw china

against the wall,

as Edgar’s wife – a dishwasher,

refused to install.

 

Now Edgar’s Retirement

a thing of the past,

But by God he had a good un

that went off with a Blast.   

 

 

 

 

Oh gorgeous sediment

that was part of tradition.

So natural and moist

and rich in composition.

 

Now crumbling away

after centuries on show.

Falling like sand

into the sea down below.

 

And wood once so dense

wild winds now devour,

as storms force flying debris

onto rocks with such power.

 

And trees uprooted

as if dancing a fling.

No point in snatching  

weak branches of string.

 

Destruction, life changing,

on a gigantic scale.

Escape meaning nothing –

as the last ship sets sail.

 

and traditionalists sit nodding

almost as if to mock,

and put on the kettle

unconcerned by the shock,

 

because like the sooth-sayers,

their predictions came true –

the winds of yesteryear returned

to take on life anew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sensing an

opportunity

for freedom,

she went

for it.

She strolled out

of the grounds of

the Care Home,

and along the lane

into an open

doorway that led

into someone’s

Lounge.

She sat down

in an armchair

by the fireplace

and glanced

around the room

in admiration.

The lady of the

house came from

the kitchen into

her lounge

and was taken

with fright

at the sight of

the stranger, who

calmly looked up

at her and asked

‘Can I help you, Dear?

 

 

 

 

Pure excellence

of the highest order,

acknowledged

by loud applause

 

from the

privileged few

lucky to be seated

for this worthy cause.

 

Pure excellence;

another night to remember,

as eyes meet in credulity

row after row.

 

Each person moved

by such perfection,

from one who can

put on a Show.

 

Pure excellence

from this formidable teacher,

with a voice to die for –

like a summer breeze.

 

Satisfaction guaranteed

or your money back,

from one who knows

how an audience to please.

 

Review  –   The Rudolf Kempe Society

Songs of Apollo

Word and Music – Stratford upon Avon

2018 season.

 

 

 

 

Why go back and seek out ancestors

when living elders you no longer see?

Why retrace steps into the unknown

searching for a lost family tree?

 

Where leaves long since perished

and branches strangled by mistletoe,

and what you may find out anyway,

you’d be better off not to know.

 

Why go back looking for heartache

when living isolation on show?

Why not put right what is possible

before being lowered below.

 

With leaves that long since perished

and where future generations may tread,

so that what they may just find out

will bring them happiness instead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dusted, broken,

put back on the shelf.

No-one any the wiser

but stay true to oneself.

 

Trusted, awoken

to discover deceit. 

Wipe clean the conscience,

let there be no repeat.

 

Busted, spoken to

with reprimand.

Now going forward

after slapped hand

 

 

 

 

A ‘free one’ now on offer

so take up the opportunity today,

or buy two and get a third one free –

you can’t lose out either way.

 

Or buy one and get a voucher

towards your next purchase in-store.

Step inside and be sorely tempted

or put your money in the Bank next door.

 

It won’t gain you any interest,

but if you do that every time,

you are never swayed into spending

on that ‘must have’, not worth a dime.

 

And therefore creating your own interest,

by avoiding the latest fad,

your Bank balance will become healthier,

taking the pressure off Mum & Dad.

 

And saving will become infectious

as you see how much you have gained.

With just a touch of self disciple –

no need for an overdraft unexplained.

 

 

 

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