The Discovery of Sound!
Bark,
Bach and Offenbach!
Eating Out
Time
Ego
Time
Ego
Forget-me-Not
Innocence
The Bumble Bee
The Pedantic Poet
The Psychotherapist
Someone singing “Clair de Lune”,
Innocence
The Bumble Bee
The Pedantic Poet
The Psychotherapist
The
Discovery of Sound!
(with
apologies to Ms. Green)
They
found some sound made in 1860,
before
Edison invented the phonograph.
Sounds
made on scratchy paper.Someone singing “Clair de Lune”,
out
of tune,
as
it happened.
They
played it on the 8 o clock news.
A
truly momentous moment –
hysterically
speaking!
My Dogs often Bach
when
they hear a Bach symphony,
and
they often bark to Offenbach.But can they Can-Can to Offenbach?
And
did Offenbach have a dog?
And
if he did, how often did he bark?(the dog that is, not Offenbach –
I don’t suppose he barked at all!)
Well, maybe occasionally!
And
what of Bach?
I
bet he had a cat!
Eating out.
Have you heard the latest news?
Everyone has got their views,
on the latest eating place,
replacing what was such disgrace.
From
ghastly pub
to
Gastro Pub,a new exciting
social hub,
where glitterati meet to eat
(usually romantically),
their egos bumping
frantically.
They’re
the coolest cool,
which
makes us drool.And if you look
you cannot miss
that special, empty,
famous kiss.
Just made for people
such as this.
The
champagne flows
and
the owner knowsjust how much his
income grows,
as each exotic course appears
from smooth head waiter
of tender years,
surrounded by his entourage
of ladies with bold
décolletage.
And
if you’re feeling
very
hip,the smooth head waiter
loves a tip,
so a twenty in his
pocket slip
and you will have him
in your grip!
And all in the name
of exquisite pleasure.
So savour the flavour
at your leisure,
then the memory will
be your treasure.
And it’s yours
for a lifetime
in full measure.
Time….
(Blame it on Jamie!)
It just seems to slip through
our fingers.
For example:If I want to cook some
carrots with thyme in them
in time for dinner I find....
I have no time to get thyme,
so I must find time to get
thyme.But I cannot buy time to buy thyme
because no one can sell me time,
even though they can sell me thyme.
Sometimes I have so little
time.
There was no time before time,but time after time
I find no time, after time.
Even if sometimes
I find some time,in no time at all
I find I have no time at all.
Sometimes, some time
is available to me.If I am in time to make
best use of that time.
I think I am running out of
time,
but I am just in time to
finish this rhyme.
So thank you for finding time
to read my thoughts on time.I hope you will still
be in good time
for whatever you need
to be in time for next.
So until the next time,
let us bide our time.Ego
Ego
must go,
weighs
me down so.Ergo, held low.
Ego
blocks me.
Make
friends?Stops me.
Break
free?
Can’t
do.Binds me,
binds you.
Eager
to fly,
let
go – ride high.
Let
go, ego.
Ergo,
flow so,swim in life’s flow.
Freedom?
Hope
so!Forget-me-Not
for I have
such violet feelings
for you, my sweet rose.
I hope our love will blossom,
for you have tulips I’d love to kiss.
I canna conceive of life without you,
and however you treat me
astilbe
in love with you.
I know you love sweet William,
but he is such a pansy
and I’m cyclamen that
keep pursuing you.
I will buy you
the finest fur foxgloves.
Please don’t leave me with a
bleeding heart.
You are a shooting star.
You are my morning glory,
you foxtail-lily you!
Why can’t you be a good girl
and become my little primrose.
When the snowdrop,
I do freesia in my lonely room.
Especially when I see all
the men that phlox to your door.
Don’t cause me to rue the day
I met you, or force me to say
goodbye to you
and hyacinth or daisy.
For I’d go completely lupin
without you.
Perhaps I should just be like narcissus
and fall in love with myself!
Innocence.
In a sense,
innocence
is lost on
the
innocent.
For
if they are
truly
innocent,how can they possibly
know it?
The
Bumble Bee.
How
humble be
the
bumble bee.No stumble he,
nor tumble he
and naught can ever
rumble he.
He
will not crumble he;
the
bumble bee.Nor live in jumble.
He is such a very
ordered bee,
the humble
bumble bee.
You
will not hear
him
grumble he,the bumble bee.
If only we could be
as gracious as
the humble
bumble bee.
If
only we could be
as
busy as the humble bumble bee.
It’s clear to see
we’d have such glee
as much as he,
the humble, humble
bumble bee.
To
be
or
not to bea humble bumble bee?
A question he can answer
see I be a
humble bumble bee.
The Pedantic Poet!
I am a writer
who takes great care
with every piece ofverse I share.
Being precise
is my little vice,and I rehearse each verse
for rhyme and time.
Does it scan?
Does it flow?
That’s what my readers
want to know.
And if for fun
I include a pun,will they inevitably shun
if it’s not exact
in how it’s done?
For if it’s not in pentameter
it looks so amateur,so I cannot let it be.
For grammar is all
and I don’t want to appal
the high up
cognoscenti!
So does each syllable sing,
with rhythmical ring, if not, its such a
pititable thing.
And what of content?
Who really cares?
As long as it rhymes
in metre sublime
and scans and flows
as I boastfully show
my knowledge of verse.
How very perverse!
in need of assistance.
He’d seen shrinks before
who had opened the door,
but had never gone the full distance.
said he would treat him for free.
Cause the boy was so poor
he had nothing in store
and nor did the authority.
for the pain he’d been hiding for years.
So after much probing
and mental exploding,
the young man broke down into tears.
all these scenes in his mind for years.
Then the thought of his brother
and psychotic mother,
released all his terrible fears.
And only he alone
could tell
whether the young lad had died.
this leap into the unknown?
And just whose mind was it going to break.
The seeds of destruction were sown.
But he cured the boy
and gave him his joy.
But he is now mad as a hatter.
The Psychotherapist.
This is the tale
of a boy found in jail,
who they thought was in need of assistance.
He’d seen shrinks before
who had opened the door,
but had never gone the full distance.
So kind Mr Brown,
who worked up in town,said he would treat him for free.
Cause the boy was so poor
he had nothing in store
and nor did the authority.
So he quizzed the boy
closely,
(who always seemed ghostly)for the pain he’d been hiding for years.
So after much probing
and mental exploding,
the young man broke down into tears.
Then the lad started
laughing,
for he’d been photographingall these scenes in his mind for years.
Then the thought of his brother
and psychotic mother,
released all his terrible fears.
So the therapist stood at the
brink of his hell
and saw all the torment
inside.And only he alone
could tell
whether the young lad had died.
The cure it was grim.
How long would it takethis leap into the unknown?
And just whose mind was it going to break.
The seeds of destruction were sown.
So the therapist sat and
reflected on that
and all the impossible
chatter.But he cured the boy
and gave him his joy.
But he is now mad as a hatter.
