POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek

[mariana44]

I believe they do !!

[keithgood838]

Thanks for your kind comment, Gray.
The following is my favourite poem on the subject
of childhood innocence, truncated here for copyright reasons:

INDOOR GAMES NEAR NEWBURY

In among the silver birches winding ways of tarmac wander
And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Brake,
Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches, catch the lights of our Lagonda
As we drive to Wendy's party, lemon curd and Christmas cake ...

'Meet me when you've finished eating!'
So we met and no one found us.
Oh that dark and furry cupboard while the rest played hide and seek!
Holding hands our two hearts beating in the bedroom silence round us,
Holding hands and hardly hearing sudden footsteps, thud and shriek.
Love that lay too deep for kissing -
'Where is Wendy? Wendy's missing!'
Love so pure it had to end,
Love so strong that I was frighten'd
When you gripped my fingers tight and
Hugging, whispered 'I'm your friend.'

Goodbye Wendy! Send the fairies, pinewood elf and larch tree gnome,
Spingle-spangled stars are peeping
At the lush Lagonda creeping
Down the winding ways of tarmac to the leaded lights of home.
There, among the silver birches,
All the bells of all the churches
Sounded in the bath-waste running out into the frosty air.
Wendy speeded my undressing,
Wendy is the sheet's caressing,
Wendy bending gives a blessing,
Holds me as I drift to dreamland, safe inside my slumberwear.

John Betjeman

[Lena & Harry Smith]

Thank you Keith.
Typical Betjeman. One feels that he wrote all his poems sitting on a train

[keithgood838]

Glad you liked it L&H. As a young family man I hope Gray
likes it equally. Yes, John Betjeman wrote his memorable
verses on every conceivable location and on every type
of improvised writing material, fag packets etc.
I hope you will like the following adaptation:

GRIZABELLA GRATIFIED
(with due deference to Andrew
Lloyd Webber and Trevor Nunn)

Midnight, and rich sound from the pavement,
Matt has not forsaken her,
she's not smiling alone,
in the lamplight no withered leaves
collect at her feet, no wind is present to moan.

Memory, not alone in the moonlight,
she can smile at the old days, she was beautiful then,
she remembers the time she knew what happiness was,
the warm memory lives again.

Streetlamps now no longer beat
a fatalistic warning, someone mutters
and a streetlamp gutters,
and soon it will be morning.

Daylight, and no wait for the sunrise,
it brings hope of a new life
she can't wait to begin, when the dawn comes
tonight will be a glad memory
and a new day will begin.

No burnt ends of smoky days;
no stale cold smell of morning;
the streetlamp dies, another night is over,
another day is dawning ...

Touch her, make light of burdens for her,
not alone with the memory of her days in the sun,
when you sing her, she'll know
the magic of Matt Monro -
look, a new day has begun ...

Keith Good

[Gray]

I loved 'Indoor Games...', Keith.
Just wonderful.

[keithgood838]

VINDICATION

Following Rory's failed Masters endeavour
experts said he might never recover;
but folk on this forum felt we knew better
and our faith was repaid to the letter.

Now as the praise and pounds roll in
and the victory tastes extra sweet,
hereafter it will be harder to win
as he becomes the man to beat.

[ROBERT M.]

Yes Keith, as Brucie would say Didn't He Do Well................ world #1 very soon

[keithgood838]

On a serious note, what malign influence enters
the minds of people (mostly men it must be said)
when they sit behind the steering-wheel of a car?
Perhaps it is a sad reflection of stressful modern life:

CONDUCT UNBECOMING

What once brought pearl-pure joy
is now a surly chore,
that pedal-happy boy
is a grown short-fuse bore.

What happened to the sense
that blessed a bygone age?
We traded innocence
for rage-minted coinage.

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

FINDING FAVOUR
(on meeting Michele Monro
at Waterstone's in Harrow)

Doubt-delineating night
was swept away by new-broom day
in the song-offering circumstance;
Aurora brought fresh delight
in the embrace-warm wordless way
the sun came up on that countenance.

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

MOUNTAINEER MURRAY

Having encountered no competition
from homeland Munros,
and comfortably conquering
lesser peaks of other shores,
the intrepid alpinist faces
an Everest of his ambition,
hoping to make the subsequent conquest
a less-daunting mission.

Keith Good

[ROBERT M.]

Murray fell off the mountain tonight (again) .........better luck next time Andy, but we say that year after year after year after year

[Marian]

He couldn't hope to win against Rafa, making so many unforced errors, and failing to get his first serves in.
It should be a great final.

[keithgood838]

SUMMIT UNSUCCESS

As he set off from base camp in determined mood
we thought he would make the climb,
then sudden loss of grip and we knew there would
be no summit smiles this time.

[keithgood838]

BEAUTIFUL SCREAMERS
(but well played, Petra Kvitova)

What would happen if they lost their voice,
presumably they would not play?
Personally if I had a choice
I would prefer it that way;
in table tennis your shouted noise
could mean you give a point away.

[Marian]

I was quite pleased Sharapova didn't win, because of her screams!