Went to Hobbit Church today.
Once I saw a man
over-taking and speeding.
He is going to crash
when he takes the bend, I said –
and I was correct.
Once a girl looked up a quote
which I could recite.
A bell was cast and I heard,
at once, its tone was too sharp:
I have perfect pitch.
I like to keep people right.
It is my duty.
You’d think they would be grateful
so why do I have few friends?
An effigy of King John (Worcester Cathedral)
from Samuel R Gardiner’s ‘History of England’
A rhyming romp through a particular period
Banished from Ireland for a good reason
and then committing an act of treason;
responsible for murders, uprisings;
provoking the Pope’s severe chastisings;
killing sons of the Welsh nobility;
losing French land through incivility;
divorcing Isabel of Gloucester (kin);
calling their bond consanguineous sin.
Duplicitous about Magna Carta;
kidnapping his young enamorata.
North, in Lincolnshire, losing his war chest,
which seems like carelessness, or a poor jest;
contracting vile dysentry at Swinehead:
Runnymede in his system, it’s been said.
Newark Gate-House was as far as he reached.
There he expired, before being impeached.
Another choka based on my 14th century Japanese
All men love to win.
This is why they will gamble.
They don’t like losing;
winning makes them feel so proud.
Pretending to lose,
to mollify a rival
affords no pleasure.
To enjoy beating someone
is surely quite immoral?
As for those who cheat,
what do they think they achieve,
if they are found out?
Only lifelong enmity
and a bad conscience, to boot.
A basic paraphrase of a 14th century Japanese monk’s
observations in prose. I just arranged them into a
Depressingly harsh, but true??
Hmmm, as my Anglican priest friend responds
when he wants to be non – committal and to appear
Your face is ugly;
your heart probably foolish.
You’re not accomplished;
you are getting on in age;
have various health problems.
Death is approaching.
You have been less than righteous.
Can you criticise others?
What of your failings?
Gain self-knowledge, if you can:
the vital life skill.
It would be commendable
if you took stock and retired!
(Photo: Edible Dormouse: Michael Hanselmann;
Have just won 3rd Prize with this at The Buxton International
Festival and Book Weekend, Nov 24th, 2017…..
We’re Die Siebenschlafer – The Seven Sleepers;
the fat, Continental cousins let loose
on Tring, from a Rothschild menagerie.
(Yes, we broke out of his glilaria
and formed menages ad infinity.)
A Mad Hatter invited us to come,
but we were the wrong sort, right from the start.
Delicacies, we are quite edible,
not like those pink, or white sugar rodents,
but are establishing our own Empire,
while the Romans, who ate us, are long gone.
Those deep-fried insults are deep-dyed in us:
an elephant never forgets. It’s said
that we mice are its closest relative.
We estivate and hibernate: that’s true.
And we sleep (dormir) hidden from your view –
remove your kitchen kickboards and you’ll see!
We appropriate the nests of others,
or a box some tit has tied to a tree.
We power nap under duvets till Spring.
Fermented fruit gives us a boozy snooze.
At three weeks, our offspring will see daylight.
We chuck them out before they’re a month old
and we don’t suffer empty nest syndrome.
If The Border Police catch us by the tails,
we slough them off and go back underground.
We furry refugees from Hungary
are hungry and upwardly mobile too,
aspiring to lifestyles arboreal.
We have no respect for native culture
and will gnaw away at your church candles.
This is immigration on a grand scale.
We can’t be stopped, as a Protected Species.
Invasion is just a fact of Nature.
The world will have a rude awakening.
Wachet auf! Don’t drowse to your extinction,
for the meek/mouse may inherit the Earth.
… an advertising endorsement on a cardboard tag attached to
a pair of new socks which someone I knew found in a desk drawer
in their new office (or should I have called it ‘brown study’)!
The next incumbent found them at the back
of a desk drawer: unopened; kept in case.
The trite endorsement on the cardboard pack
guaranteed every woman would chase
the sporter of these elasticated
brown socks. So, why had they never been worn?
Maybe his blonde secretary hated
being recumbent if he kept them on;
maybe his wife bought him deodorised
versions; perhaps he required more support,
especially if said spouse had surmised
why he was late every night; caught short.
He had had to vacate his office and
forgot these. Brown was the colour of it,
she’d thought. We always try to understand
and bless their cotton socks that never fit.
And their over-stretched imagination
envisages that we’ll believe all lies.
Now The New Boss, with anticipation,
severs the link and finds they are One-Size.
…based on the decription of a log jam of carriages in 10th
century Japan, in The Pillow Book!
After an event,
everyone wants to escape.
Some drivers push in;
some people give way, politely;
but others are rude
and drive right up your exhaust
when you leave the grounds
and exit onto the road.
Someone always overtakes
and may flip the bird
from the safety of their car.
They wouldn’t do this
in normal circumstances,
but are brave behind the wheel!
In The Seventh Month,
it is stifling overnight.
alleviate the chaleur.
Any Peeping Tom
can lift up the Iyo blind.
alerts me to a voyeur.
He attempts light flirtation;
is riled by froideur.
His ‘relationships’ short-lived,
make him think all girls
are relative push-overs.
I’m not, so I draw the blind.