My goodness I am in awe. I can, get my brain around a poem, deliver an artistic > cough < free write, a passable rhyming piece, or a limerick. But the poetry I read over at Colleen Cheeseborough’s place, this is so far away from that.

I penned a rhyme to let the true poets know what I think of their work. And below is none of the following. Types of Poetry.

Tanka. … Haiku. … Cleve … limmerick. … lyrical poem. … narrative poem. … ode. … sonnet. … Ballad. … Acrostic. … A double Enneade. … these are just some forms that I can list, though there are many more I have yet to find.

I bow before you all,
Composers of life,
Love and lament.
Winding words with
Gold-leaf, painting
Architectural prose,
Like attempting
To cement back on
The Sphinxes nose.

How poor my attempt,

too ashamed am I to lay it here,

discarded like Vincent’s ear.

But yet I parry the expected blows

from fencer’s cries and a Sphynxes nose,

for who am I to try?

And so in this place I walk away,

I concede defeat

touché.

When you read sophisticated Poetry or verse, do you think … best concede defeat? Answers or comments down below please, I love to chat.

A little More Than Poetry Is Required To Make It Good

Ham!

Linda’s prompt for #Socs is Ham! To join in or read some

fantastic responses click 🔜here🔙

I once laughed til I cried

over a song about ‘spam’.

Was surprised when given a book

Called ‘Green eggs and ham’.
I was thrilled when cooked

Chips, beans and ham,

for the first time,

by a visiting man. *wink wink*.
You never know what form

memories will take,

or how we inadvertently

nudge them awake.
A smell of lavender

Reminds me of Gran,

reading the rhymes… you guessed it

From green eggs and ham.

The taste of pig does it for me

It rumbles my stomach

until i fill it with tea….

Anyone for a sandwich?

A whimsical ditty … My husband listened (as they do) and said “You do know you’re weird… dont you”?

Comments welcomed and responded to promptly.

.

A Ballet of Books.

image

Words I read dance on my tongue
Library books join in the fun.
A myriad of majestic lust
Move in a flurry of mite dust.

Turning pages straightening spines,
Composure coreographed in lines.
Come watch the Pas de deux
Girls Pirruette in clasic tutu.

A library putting on a ballet
Watched by books in the alley.
It began with the arabesque
Pointe at librarians desk.

They Gathered all in croisè
Danseur with a grande jetè
Prima ballerina took a bow
Books that dance holy cow.

Silence Please.

Charli at the carrot ranch has charged us with a challenge in 99 words no more or less write about something not allowed.  🔜 press here 🔙 to join in.

photos curtesy of pinterest.

She shushed me as the door slammed,

My arms full of books.

People peered above their specticles,

Gave me dirty looks..

She wagged a silent finger and 

pursed her lips tight.

When I slipped to the carpet

And toppled off the light.

My card was marked at the library door,

When a cough sent bubblegum

To skid across  the parquet floor.

Her sole was stuck fast 

As I staggered past.

just to round the debacle off

I snorted as I laughed.

Her teeth you couldn’t fail to miss

As the librarian delivered an Almighty hiss…

and pointed to the quote   

A Ducks Search For A Valentine

Sandhill Crane chick

“Where is it? quick me Valentine, quick, quick, got to find it! I know it somewhere.”
Said Doris duck.

She searched high and low in the stream,
for a Valentine  to fulfill her dreams.
Shook her tail and waddled far and wide
Until no place was left for it to hide.

What it looked like she didn’t  care,
She  wanted one from anywhere.
That Valentine she’d heard about,
It made big people flounce and pout.

Alas she was deemed to fail
For Valintines had no tale…
He had no beak for her to peck
And he had the shortest neck.

So to the pond she waddled fast
With her sibblings, home at last.
Munching worms with her Drake,
Fluffing their tails out on the lake.

Was your true love under your nose?
Did you look to hard but failled to see what was next to you?
Or just maybe you couldn’t give a diddly doo dah… let me know leave a word… try and keep it somewhat clean ;)😇

This link takes you to the Valentines party join in it’s for the whole weekend!

http://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/2016/02/13/yes-party-link-live-love-thing-valentine-blog-bash-and-mingle-join-the-fun/

Posted from WordPress for Android

A Nod to Poe.

image

At waters edge in caverns deep,
He wandered in repose.
Seeking of his one true love,
Through moon’s latent glows.

Leaving wake upon wake,
Over sea’s far and wide.
When a mermaid swept him
Off on the ebb of a tide.

In honour of Edgar Allan Poe born 19th January 1809

Picture is a free download from pixabay a fabulous resource.

Posted from WordPress for Android

The Pencil.

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The lead has worn down on my pencil
It means breaking another one in.
As you see by my picture,
I don’t know where to begin.

He’s been with me for a while now,
I’ve  chewed the end ’til I’m sick.
Somehow I neglcted to notice,
You see I sharpen him quite a bit.

This pencil has been a good friend,
It’s lead it promised to last.
I can secrete it inside my stocking,
At parties it even gets past.

Now so small it looks very lonely,
Not big enough to take one more word.
It can’t go in the rubbish
Or be put in a nest by a bird.

So i must always  keep it,
Safe in a drawer it will stay
Until my yellow one can be trusted
To never get in the way.
image

A drop of silliness you may say, but for a while I believed the words were inside my pencil…

Maybe they are. 

Please leave me a comment, advice on training said pencil will be taken seriously and I will get back to you soonest. Have a funny ole day 

*wink wink* 

Sinner or sin.

image

There’s nothing as pure as sin…

Delivered in the name of god,
Street woman killed with a builders hod.
Against the bible he said
As he left her for dead.

Stan smirked as he stood in the dock,
Fluffed and preened like a cock.
He said he had a right,
To take a life that dreary night.

Twenty years he got locked inside,
Twenty years to sit and hide.
Time where he’s allowed to breathe,
Where decent folk pay for his every need.

Still, she lies no blood to bleed
For walking streets to make a crust
Along came Stan her head he bust,
All that’s left are thoughts and dust.