POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek

[Marian]

Cheers Keith!

[keithgood838]

Browsing recently at Waterstone's in Barnet,
I came across a new (to me) nature poet whose
work I recommend to any forum member in need
of gift ideas this Christmas. Mindful of copyright
restraints, I offer some extracts from Tales From The
Woods, by Felix Dennis:

From, Upon The Beach:

Upon the beach a solitary tree
Defies the sea - a shambling stag at bay,
The left side iridescent greenery,
The right a driftwood copse of salt and spray.

From, The Wedding Dress:

The woodland trees are decked in reds,
The scarlet blush of newly-weds
Impatient on their wedding night -
fresh-minted gold their shy delight.

From, Winter Wood

Beside the gate a cherry stands
In dreamless sleep, her budding hands
Bejewelled with ice and glinting snow -
Pull back the latch and in we go ...

A badger's tracks ploughed through the slush,
The creak of heartwood in the hush,
A black crow croaking: 'Get you gone!'
It's home for us; the wood sleeps on.

Keith

[Gray]

Lovely Keith, thanks for these extracts and the tip-off.

[keithgood838]

Hi Gray
Leeds United still going strongly; their early departure (?)
from the Cup will enable them to focus fully on promotion.
Demonstrating Dame Fortune's fickle nature, the following
poem, whose sentiments alas still resonate today,
was written on Christmas Day 1863 in the throes
of the American Civil War:

CHRISTMAS BELLS

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on Earth, goodwill to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on Earth, goodwill to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way
the world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on Earth, goodwill to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on Earth, goodwill to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
'There is no peace on Earth,' I said;
'For hate is strong
And mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, goodwill to men!'

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
'God is not dead; nor doth He sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail,
With peace on Earth, goodwill to men!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

[keithgood838]

I would like to wish all my friends on the forum
contentment at Christmas and good health in 2011.
I hope you will enjoy this seasonal offering:

ADVENT

Curtain-edged invitations to see the tinselled
homely warmth that all my share;
season-scintillant streetscapes that can draw the sting
from winter's frost-whetted air;
drab routine given a makeover by goodwill's
congenial atmosphere;
celestial respite for put-upon Mother Earth
burdened by man-made care:
still the broad hint of the one-day truce not taken
to cheer the upcoming year.

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

WIN-WIN

'It's better now, thank God,' is what we say -
it's funny, that.
Always the bouquet,
never the brickbat.

Forum friend I refer you
to the subtitle of this thread.

[Marian]

Many thanks for your good wishes to us all Keith, and for your poetry throughout the year.
A Very Happy and Healthy New Year to you and your family too, and to all the special people on this forum.

[keithgood838]

Thanks for your good wishes Marian, and today's smile.
Aptly, I finished the attached poem this very day; it comes
with my 'bon voyage' to everyone on the forum for safe
and happy passage round 2011:

CALENDAR CHARACTERS

Jack Frost salaams to January's will
and delivers the post-festive chill;
the more ground-freezing the reckoning,
the better will be the blossom come spring.

February is boring by design,
with stingy palette of grey-white, grey-grey;
despite his canvas bearing strokes of red
lovingly applied by Saint Valentine.

March blows kisses to her Green Man fellow
fresh from his slumber through winter's night,
bestriding the land in green and yellow,
sponsors of shamrock wearing and summer light.

Soppy April consistently changes,
the chameleon of joy and sadness;
from sporadic showers of tears she ranges
to wreathed in the sunshine smiles of gladness.

May, Terpsicore of the calendar,
leading the dancing in her hawthorn crown,
nice-to-be-near wearing fragrant lavender
and complimenting apple-blossom gown.

Jaunty Juno is the playful one
to whom the sporting gods dictate the story,
Test cricket, Open golf and Wimbledon;
girls unaware of their under-dressed glory.

July assumes the tag 'cruellest month',
prone to flash floods and temper tantrum weather;
the protagonist of the summer stage -
please tragedian, piece your act together!

August lives up to his Leo nature
acknowledging his waving harvest fields,
which the sun and earth combine to nurture;
his promissory notes for bounteous yields.

September wins 'golden girl of the year',
bronze-beautified by summer's final fling;
gatherer of Nature's gainful fare:
returns on our investment of the spring.

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.

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.

Jet Stream reprises his northern refrain
and we chorus our rapture with the snow,
yet his Azores-warmed, southerly-steered flow
ushers in soft December flecked with rain.

Spared, we are eager to embark and go
on the time-travelling voyage again ...

Keith Good

[Marian]

Well done Keith, very descriptive of a typical year... and to think we have all that to look forward to, again!

[mariana44]

Love the poem Keith--very cleverly done.

[keithgood838]

Thanks Marians. The following verse was published
in the January edition of a magazine. Speaking of magazine
publishing, I happened upon a delightful Matt Monro
article in January's MOJO featuring our hero, legs akimbo
on a barstool, and brandishing a jeraboam of champagne
in each hand. I learned that Matt lived in Tufnell Park in 1961;
I lived in nearby Archway about that time and I even visited
The Favourite pub in Hornsey Rise that he used to frequent.
Ships that pass in the night ...

POST-CHRISTMAS POST
(dispatched with tongue in cheek)

Like welcome snowfall,
the daily flurries brightened our lives
and whitened our hallway
in the Advent of the most feted Birthday.

Now, post-Epiphany, we wince
at the manifestation of financial hailstones
hammering home reckoning dismay:
the excess postage price we have to pay.

Curmudgeonly January stays true
to his cold-hearted reputation;
come Spring, post haste, and drive away
daily delivered skies of grey ...

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

Thanks for posting the African child's thought-provoking
poem, Marian. In the absence of a title, I would name it,
Rainbow Revelation. Since this is a music-based website,
I though it might be apt to post the following poem composed
by my late friend:

TRANQUILLITY

Piano in a room unlit
Save by the moon's soft light,
Casting shadows on the floor
In silent still of night.

Supple fingers fondling keys,
Cajoling them to sing
In liquid harmonising chords
Which heavenward take wing.

No other sound invades the room
I see in my mind's eye;
No other scene save through clear panes,
A tranquil, moonlit sky.

Peace and contentment fill my mind
When such tonic sounds I hear
In dream or in reality,
Their import to me is clear:

'Hearken to each dulcet voice,
Imbibe the peace it brings;
Drift, effortless, above the world
On silent, velvet wings.'

Not for a ransom would I cede
Nor for aught would I barter
Communion time with Beethoven
In his Moonlight Sonata.

Eric Baker

[keithgood838]

A humorist mate of mine once suggested
that if I were to achieve fame as a poet,
I might be celebrated posthumously with
a Good Night - an accurate witticism at
several levels.
The great Scottish bard wrote the following
verse on his birthday (25 January 1793)
during a morning walk when he heard a thrush sing:

SONNET

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon a leafless bough;
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain:
See aged winter, mid his surly reign,
As thy blithe carol clears his furrowed brow.

So in lone Poverty's dominion drear
Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart,
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear.

I thank thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds the orient skies!
Riches denied, thou boon was purer joys,
What wealth could never give nor take away!

Yet come, thou child of poverty and care;
The mite high heaven bestowed, that mite with thee I'll share.

Robert Burns (1759-1796)

[keithgood838]

Here for the romantics, is the perfect verse
by my former friend, Judith. Terza Rima comprises
three-line stanzas, or tercets, linked by end-rhymed
patterns. The most notable example is Ode To The
West Wind by Shelley:

TERZA RIMA

As autumn's sun flames down in Summers's praise,
I dream my dreams of us and our delight
And memorise our times of touch and gaze.

Soon dusk will draw the curtains of starlight
And colour, form and shape will be enclosed
In twilight's arms, as I, in yours, tonight.

For in your arms I find myself composed;
I lose my inhibitions and hauteur:
The harmonies of life are all enclosed.

A world ago I made my last demur.
In your embrace my frigid body thawed
And now, again, my senses are astir.

Once more I am myself, and I am awed
That, after all these years, it's me you laud.

Judith Smallshaw


PARTY TIME

It is at the feast of Saint Valentine
where our winter-cold world uplifts;
when toasts are proposed in love-red wine
followed by an exchange of gifts.

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

FANTASY FOOTBALL

You dream your team is pitted
against the planet's best,
and find them well acquitted,
they pass the toughest test
with colours flying, in this case red & white,
emerging for the contest
with relish for the fight;
one devoid of dissention and lunging recklessness,
instead imbued with beauty
and intricate finesse.
Lads now of proven quality,
all heroes on the night,
then dawns glorious reality:
your comeback boys have won -
Arsenal FC 2 - Barcelona 1.

Keith Good