The Poem thread
- Thread starter Contratrombone64
- Start date
Contratrombone64
Admiral of Fugues
Dame Margaret - your cannibal poem made me lick my lips ...
Sylvie Pacey
New member
Thanks Margaret, i appreciate compliments from such a lovely poet as yourself. You might just like this one, its called "Reflections at Dawn"
Morning shadows on the grass,
Silhouettes of birds that pass
Among the leafy trees.
Nestlings waiting to be fed
With open beaks and tilted heads
Swaying in the breeze.
Fledglings trying out their wings,
In the quiet a blackbird sings,
Early buzzing bees.
Drifting whisps of cloud appear
Veiling an azure sky.
All this beauty I can find
By opening my busy mind
To such tranquility.
A dewdrop, trembling on a leaf
Casts rainbow shadows underneath
On petals just unfurled.
The nodding heads in flower beds
Crowded with buds, stil tightly curled.
Perfume steals, its fragrance heals
And brings peace to my world.
Sylvia Pacey
Morning shadows on the grass,
Silhouettes of birds that pass
Among the leafy trees.
Nestlings waiting to be fed
With open beaks and tilted heads
Swaying in the breeze.
Fledglings trying out their wings,
In the quiet a blackbird sings,
Early buzzing bees.
Drifting whisps of cloud appear
Veiling an azure sky.
All this beauty I can find
By opening my busy mind
To such tranquility.
A dewdrop, trembling on a leaf
Casts rainbow shadows underneath
On petals just unfurled.
The nodding heads in flower beds
Crowded with buds, stil tightly curled.
Perfume steals, its fragrance heals
And brings peace to my world.
Sylvia Pacey
Contratrombone64
Admiral of Fugues
No, actually, I prefer my meat when it comes in little packets covered in cling wrap ...
marval
New member
Hi CT, I didn't really think you were a cannibal.
Here is a poem about beef.
Where's your beef?
I'd like to ask you, what's your beef?
Angus, heifer, steer, good grief,
There's kinds from every feudal fief
And many cuts to make it brief.
Some might like it chipped on toast.
Some prefer a charcoal roast.
Gravy braised, great Caesar's ghost,
It has to be the meat used most.
Tenderloin and ribs and ground,
Brisket, chuck and eye of round,
What way hasn't yet been found
To make it better, pound for pound?
You can make a lovely stew.
You can smoke or barbecue.
Each cut gives a different chew,
Depending on the way they hew.
You can buy it wrapped in plastic.
It's the best way. It's fantastic.
You can see if it looks drastic.
I don't mean to be sarcastic.
No one likes to buy it brown,
Even though they mark it down.
We reject it with a frown.
This is true in any town.
You might wonder where it goes?
There's so much that no one knows.
All I know is average Joes
Can buy a burger, though it's froze.
We eat beef in many ways.
It's here till the end of days.
How they make and feed and raise
And kill and cut deserves some praise.
Stephen Blumenkranz
Here is a poem about beef.
Where's your beef?
I'd like to ask you, what's your beef?
Angus, heifer, steer, good grief,
There's kinds from every feudal fief
And many cuts to make it brief.
Some might like it chipped on toast.
Some prefer a charcoal roast.
Gravy braised, great Caesar's ghost,
It has to be the meat used most.
Tenderloin and ribs and ground,
Brisket, chuck and eye of round,
What way hasn't yet been found
To make it better, pound for pound?
You can make a lovely stew.
You can smoke or barbecue.
Each cut gives a different chew,
Depending on the way they hew.
You can buy it wrapped in plastic.
It's the best way. It's fantastic.
You can see if it looks drastic.
I don't mean to be sarcastic.
No one likes to buy it brown,
Even though they mark it down.
We reject it with a frown.
This is true in any town.
You might wonder where it goes?
There's so much that no one knows.
All I know is average Joes
Can buy a burger, though it's froze.
We eat beef in many ways.
It's here till the end of days.
How they make and feed and raise
And kill and cut deserves some praise.
Stephen Blumenkranz
marval
New member
Friendship is something that grows through the years
Withstanding feelings of anger, joy and tears
It is something you cannot live without
A friend you can turn to when in doubt
They should listen carefully and not speak a word
For you would do the same when they want to be heard
A person you can confide in, learn from and trust
This is a friend and everyone must
Be able to have someone just like this
Not a boyfriend to hug, cuddle and kiss
But a person so special, faithful and true
The only one I can think of is a person like you
Our friendship is strong, healthy and great
Through the years I see its wonderful fate
A fate of laughs, greatness and fun
We have only one life to live and this is the one
The past- full of memories that runs through my head
The bad ones never talked about or said
Every moment of life should glisten with fresh morning dew
This reminds me of the greatest friendship one ever knew.
Shauna
Withstanding feelings of anger, joy and tears
It is something you cannot live without
A friend you can turn to when in doubt
They should listen carefully and not speak a word
For you would do the same when they want to be heard
A person you can confide in, learn from and trust
This is a friend and everyone must
Be able to have someone just like this
Not a boyfriend to hug, cuddle and kiss
But a person so special, faithful and true
The only one I can think of is a person like you
Our friendship is strong, healthy and great
Through the years I see its wonderful fate
A fate of laughs, greatness and fun
We have only one life to live and this is the one
The past- full of memories that runs through my head
The bad ones never talked about or said
Every moment of life should glisten with fresh morning dew
This reminds me of the greatest friendship one ever knew.
Shauna
marval
New member
Thank you sunwaiter
I like your way of saying that summer is over. I agree I think Autumn has arrived.
Here is a little poem about Autumn.
When trees their summer splendour
Change to raiment red and gold
When Summer moon turns mellow
And the nights are getting cold
When squirrels hide their acorns
And the woodchucks disappear
Then we know that it is Autumn
Loveliest season of the year
Charlotte L Riser
I like your way of saying that summer is over. I agree I think Autumn has arrived.
Here is a little poem about Autumn.
When trees their summer splendour
Change to raiment red and gold
When Summer moon turns mellow
And the nights are getting cold
When squirrels hide their acorns
And the woodchucks disappear
Then we know that it is Autumn
Loveliest season of the year
Charlotte L Riser
Sylvie Pacey
New member
The Autumn is a lovely time with all the colours. Margaret, do you live in the U.K? If so perhaps you have been to Westonburt Arboreatum. Something I've never yet managed to do but still live in hope. A short poem of mine entitled"The Cycle of Life"
Every season brings its joys,
Each Spring new life and hope,
Sweet Summer with her fragrances
Autumn leaves, Kaleidescope.
Winter firesides warm and bright
Lead us on to Heavenly Light.
Sylvie
Every season brings its joys,
Each Spring new life and hope,
Sweet Summer with her fragrances
Autumn leaves, Kaleidescope.
Winter firesides warm and bright
Lead us on to Heavenly Light.
Sylvie
Sylvie Pacey
New member
What a small world Margaret, my late husband's family live mainly in Bletchley, I expect you know my Nephew Bruce Battams, the fishmonger with a stall that does the rounds of the markets there.Lovely to talk with you. I too would like to go to the Eden project but I rather think age and infirmity might put a stop to that.Sylvie
Sylvie Pacey
New member
FALSE ECONOMY (A cautionary tale for housing officials.)
Scene One.
'Twas nine on Thursday morning when warde spotted leak,
Reported it by 10a.m - 'twas fixed by end of week.
At 9.15 upon her rounds, she spied an unlatched door,
Knocked and entered, found someone unconcious on the floor.
Dialled 999 and very soon an ambulance was there,
The patient then was stabilised and taken into care.
The unlatched door was fastened after Warden checked for flaws,
So no intruders waere allowed to pass through unlocked doors.
The total cost I cannot say in terms of pounds and pence
But to all the residents, relief was just immense.
They all agreed the warden was an angel from the sky,
The trouble she'd averted, no cost could be too high.
Scene two.
'Twas nine on Thursday morning when the gutter sprang a leak,
It couldn't be reported, so 'twas worse by end of week.
And after raining hard all nigh, it overfolwed down wall
Extinguished the electrics, lift wouldn't work at all.
Carpets drenched and residents were soaked through to the skin,
Some had to leave, those that stayed, a dreadful state were in.
Amid the panic not a soul observed the unlatched door,
So the poor unconscious resident expired upon the floor.
Felonious persons very soon were inside, quite intent
On taking everything they could, even the council rent.
The consequences were immense, the realatives all sued.
The Media on reporting it were really rather rude.
They blamed the nameless bureaucrats,
who cut their costs so hard,
No Warden was on site to see, no one to stay on guard.
Sylvia Pacey
By the way Margaret, I'll tell Bruc
Scene One.
'Twas nine on Thursday morning when warde spotted leak,
Reported it by 10a.m - 'twas fixed by end of week.
At 9.15 upon her rounds, she spied an unlatched door,
Knocked and entered, found someone unconcious on the floor.
Dialled 999 and very soon an ambulance was there,
The patient then was stabilised and taken into care.
The unlatched door was fastened after Warden checked for flaws,
So no intruders waere allowed to pass through unlocked doors.
The total cost I cannot say in terms of pounds and pence
But to all the residents, relief was just immense.
They all agreed the warden was an angel from the sky,
The trouble she'd averted, no cost could be too high.
Scene two.
'Twas nine on Thursday morning when the gutter sprang a leak,
It couldn't be reported, so 'twas worse by end of week.
And after raining hard all nigh, it overfolwed down wall
Extinguished the electrics, lift wouldn't work at all.
Carpets drenched and residents were soaked through to the skin,
Some had to leave, those that stayed, a dreadful state were in.
Amid the panic not a soul observed the unlatched door,
So the poor unconscious resident expired upon the floor.
Felonious persons very soon were inside, quite intent
On taking everything they could, even the council rent.
The consequences were immense, the realatives all sued.
The Media on reporting it were really rather rude.
They blamed the nameless bureaucrats,
who cut their costs so hard,
No Warden was on site to see, no one to stay on guard.
Sylvia Pacey
By the way Margaret, I'll tell Bruc
marval
New member
Here is a poem for organists.
Oh Rancid Flaps of Ancient Suede
by David Setchell
Oh rancid flaps of ancient suede,
With groovèd soles and heels arrayed,
'Tis time to pen a eulogy
About your organ shoe-logy.
You've heeled and toed your fetid way
Through every piece I've dared to play,
With never a grumble, moan or whine
About a tricky fugal line.
Through hymns galore my feet have ploughed -
The bass part ringing clear and loud:
And with malodorous precision,
You have controlled my Swell division.
With registration too your part
You've played; and what a subtle art
It is, to cause the feet to jive
Between the pistons, one to five.
Attuned to Widor, used to Bach -
Through every age you've made your mark:
Chorale by Franck or one of Handel's -
You are no ordinary sandals.
You've been an aromatic play-link
Between the hands and feet in Sweelinck.
And though your age could well be Tudor
You've never shirked at Buxtehude.
You've danced through Brahms, you've flown through Liszt,
Of Mendelssohn you've got the gist:
And though you're old and worn and smelly -
You've Sortied out Lefebure-Wely.
Complete these praises now I must
To my old shoes, so rank, so just:
You have your eyes, your tongue, your sole, my dears -
It grieves me that you have no ears.
Oh Rancid Flaps of Ancient Suede
by David Setchell
Oh rancid flaps of ancient suede,
With groovèd soles and heels arrayed,
'Tis time to pen a eulogy
About your organ shoe-logy.
You've heeled and toed your fetid way
Through every piece I've dared to play,
With never a grumble, moan or whine
About a tricky fugal line.
Through hymns galore my feet have ploughed -
The bass part ringing clear and loud:
And with malodorous precision,
You have controlled my Swell division.
With registration too your part
You've played; and what a subtle art
It is, to cause the feet to jive
Between the pistons, one to five.
Attuned to Widor, used to Bach -
Through every age you've made your mark:
Chorale by Franck or one of Handel's -
You are no ordinary sandals.
You've been an aromatic play-link
Between the hands and feet in Sweelinck.
And though your age could well be Tudor
You've never shirked at Buxtehude.
You've danced through Brahms, you've flown through Liszt,
Of Mendelssohn you've got the gist:
And though you're old and worn and smelly -
You've Sortied out Lefebure-Wely.
Complete these praises now I must
To my old shoes, so rank, so just:
You have your eyes, your tongue, your sole, my dears -
It grieves me that you have no ears.
Sylvie Pacey
New member
Oh thank you Margaret, what a wonderful poem, I enjoyed it enormously. I send the following poem which I just wrote after losing a dear friend, and knowing Stephen and Robin are mourning at this time I hope it will help them and others who have lost a loved one.
LOVES GARDEN OF REMEMBRANCE
Memories are all the seeds we scatter on life's way,
Lying dormant in our hearts till loved ones go away.
Watered then by all our tears, warmed by love's great sun
They spring to life so swiftly, bloom each and every one.
Their fragrance steals into our hearts, numbed by disbelief
Kindles our remembering and helps to ease our grief.
Slowly sadness ebbs away, leaves us content and still,
Knowing we can gather up these fragrant blooms at will.
Unlike our human form these flowers will never ever die.
For death means only "Au revoir", NOT "Farewell love, goodbye"
Sylvie
LOVES GARDEN OF REMEMBRANCE
Memories are all the seeds we scatter on life's way,
Lying dormant in our hearts till loved ones go away.
Watered then by all our tears, warmed by love's great sun
They spring to life so swiftly, bloom each and every one.
Their fragrance steals into our hearts, numbed by disbelief
Kindles our remembering and helps to ease our grief.
Slowly sadness ebbs away, leaves us content and still,
Knowing we can gather up these fragrant blooms at will.
Unlike our human form these flowers will never ever die.
For death means only "Au revoir", NOT "Farewell love, goodbye"
Sylvie