POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek

[Lena & Harry Smith]

A very apt poem there Keith that summed up the feelings of thousands of people. A complete cover up that's taken all these years to bring out the truth of what really happened on that day at Hillsborough.
There was the other recent case of innocent Ian Tomlinson who was on his way home and died after being pushed to the ground by the bully in uniform. One wonders why we lose faith in the police who on the whole do a wonderful service, but we should be able to rely on them and trust them to do an honest service whatever the task involves.

[ROBERT M.]

Well said L&H

[Eman]

Goota agree as we see these injustices here also. As a child we were taught that a policeman was your friend and will help, however not in these days as it's hard to tell!!

[keithgood838]

The following is a reflection on my visit to The Belfry.
I'm giving it a first outing here because I know you
forgiving folk will tolerate any deficiencies therein:

THE PILGRIMAGE

To worship at the vast shrine
to the capricious golfing god;
to stroll the same greensward
and endure the clinging rough
that his disciples trod.
To walk the long cathedral aisles
and dream in the Cotton Wing
of the Torrance Transept;
to be in albeit tenuous communion
with the spellbinding greats,
and to take bread and wine in the brotherly
camaraderie of Eltham Irish mates
is Belfry bliss, indeed.

Keith Good
(22 September 2012)

[Lena & Harry Smith]

No deficiencies at all Keith. A special experience for you to savour.

[Eman]

Hey Keith, fab use of imagery. For me and I haven't been to the Belfry, you poem paints a mind picture for me. Very descriptive!!

[keithgood838]

RESPECTED REACTIONS

My gratitude goes to the poetry
rapid response unit;
your verdicts, in thoughtful symmetry,
mean I won't need to fine tune it.

[keithgood838]

OCTOBER'S PARTY

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The chestnuts, oaks and maples
And leaves of every name.
The sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

George Cooper, New York poet.
(1840-1927)

The trees are in their autumn beauty;
The woodland paths are dry;
Under the October twilight
The water mirrors a still sky ...
W.B. Yeats

Water stands trees on their heads
and leaves then there ...
Nigel Forde

October is a period for reflection
when water turtle-turns auburn-haired trees;
think how leaves make carpet-laying connection
with the creatively sedulous breeze ...
From Calendar Characters

[keithgood838]

HAUNTED HOUSES

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floor.

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, in inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star,
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night -

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above a dark abyss.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

[Marian]

Very apt for Halloween Keith.
Talking of haunted houses, the house 4 doors away from us has 6 people die on the premises since we moved in 1965.

[Eman]

Nice Halloween poem Keith

Wow Marian that's kinda scary!

[keithgood838]

Hi Marian and Eman. I look forward to finding an excuse
for featuring more of Longfellow's work - he really is a wonderful
poet. Like with Matt's music, I tend to refer to the greats in the
present tense because their imperishable wonders make them
contemporaneous. The following lines perfectly exemplify
the sub-title of this thread:

NOVEMBER

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon!
No dawn, no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds -
November!

Thomas Hood (1789-1845)

Let me rush to poor old November's defence -
maybe he isn't so boring after all ...

After festive lights, All Hallows hands out frights
when dead souls return to haunt the living;
pyrotechnic echoes trigger thoughts of heroes,
shared by New World ones turned to Thanksgiving.

(from Calendar Characters)

[Eman]

Hey Keith, Longfellow was one of my favourites to read in college. So as they say "bring it".

[keithgood838]

Four years ago (it seems like yesterday) I had the following
lines published in an Irish magazine. I wondered whether they
were still relevant today. You decide.

ACROSTIC ANTICIPATION

Oh God speed Mr President when you
Begin your awesome adventure in power;
At each dilemma's crossroads you come to
May you find wisdom at that lonely hour
And strength to see the burdensome trip through

Keith Good

[Eman]

Very true Keith and still effective. I was hoping for a change thougn however it is what it is and will make the best of it,