POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek

[keithgood838]

Yes Gray, maybe some heartwarming day ...

IN WORLD WAR FIELDS
(in deference to John McCrae)

In Britain's fields poppies will show
as hearts on sleeves, row upon row,
in remembrance of war heroes
and to de-scale the eyes of those
who cannot of selflessness know
in World War fields ...

Keith Good

[keithgood838]

CRAMPED IN THAT FUNNELLED HOLE

Cramped in that funnelled hole,
They watched the dawn
Open a jagged rim around; a yawn
Of death's jaws, which all but swallowed them
Stuck in the bottom of his throat of phlegm.

They were in one of many months of Hell,
Not seen of seers in visions; only felt
As teeth of traps, when bones and the dead are smelt
Under the mud where long ago they felt
Mixed with the sour sharp odour of the shell.

Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

[keithgood838]

TAINTLESS TALENT

No psychedelic lighting frames the setting;
no pyrotechnics erupt on the stage;
no lovelies cavortingly abetting
or angel voices in support engage.
No peacock-proud posturing on display,
an innate stagecraft animates the show -
no autotune to give the game away
in music-magic a la Matt Monro.

Keith Good

[Gray]

Just lovely, Keith, and so true.

[Lena & Harry Smith]

Yep, you said it Keith, no relying on gimmicks here, just a voice

[Sandra]

That was lovely Keith and oh so true

[keithgood838]

Thank you Gray, L&H and Sandra.
Valued opinions are very welcome
endorsements of my work. Circumstances
denied me the pleasure of meeting the great Matt;
however the following poem represents the next
best thrill; I make no apology for reprising it here:

FINDING FAVOUR
(on presenting a poem to 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
Saturday, 6 February 2010

[Gray]

I am sure Michele felt the same way in meeting you too, Keith

[keithgood838]

Thanks Gray, forgive me for bidding farewell
to uneventful November with this revised poem:

NOTIONS of NOVEMBER
(November always seems to me
the Norway of the year - Emily Dickinson)

November is the Cinders of the calendar;
the drudge month a far cry from the Ball,
stuck between Christmas's pious pleasure
and the feckless fag-end of the Fall
when the dree of BST's departure
is the cue for cold winter to call.
God speed celebratory December
so we can go partying after all.

Keith Good

[Gray]

Absolutely loved this, Keith.
Really made me smile.

[Marian]

Thanks Keith, good one, although November wasn't quite as drab this year, and we have two family birthdays, so parties did happen for this family.

[Sandra]

Like that one too Keith,but pleased to say that November this year has been a very pleasant month

[keithgood838]

I'm happy to learn that November departed
from its usual dreary character for you, Marian
and Sandra. However, I trust December will not
follow suit for you both and I wish you a great
Christmas of partying, Gray.
It was refreshing to hear Northern Ireland's first
minister, Peter Robinson, recently call for an end
to sectarian division in the province. My original
poem on the subject was illustrated with a sprig
of red-berry holly:

ILEX AQUIFOLIUM

Close red and green
are at Christmas seen
in Mother Nature's free decoration;
in my heart I know
they will closer grow
upon Ulster's reconciliation.

Keith Good
(December 2002)

[keithgood838]

THE HIGGS BOSON

Even if the Cern scientists find it,
the subatomic life-creating particle,
it will mean that lovingly behind it:
a hand performing the ultimate miracle?

Keith Good

[Gray]

Couldn't agree with you more, Keith.