Posts tagged with “poem” and “poetry”

October 30

I'll be the death of him!

DO DOGS HAVE SOULS

Be careful son, my father would say I tell a lie

If I died he would not cry

When his dog dies I watch him cry

When his dog dies I hate myself for crying

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But the dog, what of him?

He just sees two lost souls

and, for pities sake, when the dog dies

I see three.

What about you?

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PAW ALL SOUL's EVE 2011

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Poetry, doggerel, or therapy, you decide.... All comments welcome and, if I know you, I'll take it up with you in the appropriate manner.

Yes, father I am perfectly serious - you are old enough to die of shock now.

Over and out

01:28 AM | 0 Comments | Tags: , , , , , ,
November 09

Isabel's poem

This was written by my daughter at the weekend, I shall photograph the original text and post it, but this is my version typed as faithfully as I can:-

Look! a leaf
Scrunkling my life away.

Look! a rabbit hole
Like a bowl
Eating my life away.

Look!...a nest
Like a bed
Sleeping my life away

Look at the green grass
Like  a bean
I roll my life away

Isabel Eleanor Amelia Wrighton, November 2009.

06:21 AM | 2 Comments | Tags: , , , , , ,
October 28

Three Score plus More

At the weekend I visited my father, aged seventy five, and made sure his computer was online.  Although I am quite sure he shall not manage to read this I thought I would put the poem he gave me at the time online:-

Three Score years and ten
So what does one do then?
The Bible says - that's your lot;
"Can't I do what I forgot?"
Now I am seventy two,
My latter years have just begun
Cruising, boozing, having fun
Seventy Two, don't feel so well
My prostate begins to tell
Oh no!  I'm seventy three
My doctor has his hands in me.
He looked inside and said "It's bad!"
My love, she pretended she was sad
Seventy four, my pension pot is growing,
I remember the wild oats I've been sowing
Seventy five, life goes quicker
And my blood is getting thicker
Oh dear lord six and seventy,
Does that make me feel more Heavenly
Seventy Eight, the reaper's late
Seventy Nine, or is it Ten?
Hari Krishna - not again!
Jesus, Allah - I've got the score
I can't do it anymore.

J.C.W. October 2009

06:04 AM | 0 Comments | Tags: , , ,
October 17

Fading

The older I get the more I see

People

The less they see me

 

Year by year I am fading

like well worn jeans

At least that is how it seems

 

One day the invisible man

might see all that he can

of all of the people

doing all of their things

 

But I can never see

What they are looking at

when they do not see

me!

 

 

                       Paul Wrighton October 2009

06:52 AM | 0 Comments | Tags: , ,
October 04

Posting from a Library...

Right now I am in Castle Carey for the Childrens carnival later today. I shall try to get pictures onto my phone for later… it could be quite visually pleasing if the rain keeps off! This goes to show the blog addiction has hit hard, even though this offers a lovely quiet respite from the inevitable family drama as a bonus! I brought my laptop, but to hope for wireless access was expecting too much (it is pretty much a small rural town).

Anyway, with the country air I arose early. My father is quite the eccentric (you can see him and some of his poems from the "about me" link if you click on far enough and he has been moved to more traditional housing than his old beach hut on wheels!). So in his new abode he insists that visitors leave something in a Visitors Book provided for the purpose.

Arising early I found this book and the muse struck. Occasionally I may feature a poem in my Blog. BUT I am determined that it should not become exclusively a poetry nor exclusively a writing blog… So they will be tagged and archived in a manner of my choosing from time to time….

If there is no poem in this post it has obviously been done…. Likely gone on to a better place… But for the moment you will find it below:-

LOVE OF A POET
==============

Never love a poet
To love one is absurd
A poets love entirely
Being given to the word

Bad poets write of love
A moral for my daughter
Good poets love themselves
Like a fish loves water

The didactic part comes now
Not of love and not of poet
Of happiness and loving life
The poetry's in how you show it!

PAW 4/10/2008

Feeling bashful now - sigh.

As I say - you may have noticed a previous post that has now self-destucted, well think of that poem as being written in an ink that fades very fast, because it too will join collected and selected ephemera in the ether at a future time. Of course copies may have been taken, but I don't want to think about that… I'm weird and shy that way.

I am quite happy to blog and reveal my identity within the blog, but when it comes to publication in any traditional sense I would prefer a "nom de plume". If anyone cares to suggest suitable pen names in comments - that could be fun, perhaps. But please, no Tadalafil based etymology or themes! Oh I just thought, I really need to avoid mentioning the C word, V word or any other pharmacopoeia or else the spiders are going to mark me down down down!

I notice now that being in the library with a timer on my connection really focusses the mind! Perhaps I need to start introducing a fake similar system at home? No question of idling off away to tweaking little corners of the site or googling weird wikipedian linkage chains. Speaking of which I have turned on a Wiki markup (you'll find an example on the ABOUT DIDACTIC link for the word didactic). I've tried to make one on this post too (in the previous paragraph, for Tadalafil), but the internet and browser setup here may make this tricksome.

My next poem was intended to be titled "Ethereal Ephemera", but the muse does not respect my future titles and plans. So there we are. Or here we are.

I can certainly feel the chill of the new season with October, added to the chill of the countryside away from the city heat. The children taking part in the carnival should be fine however - the theme is "Teddy Bears Picnic" and they are all wearing furry outfits… This time the great family drama (there is ALWAYS one) was brewing about the "float" trolley upon which my great niece Jessica (13 months) is due to perch… Anyway, my father has become the grumpiest bear in town with the sorest head…. and now refuses to push the trolley or even lend them his drill to finish the work!!

Sigh - and now I have to proof read, correct, and return to the melée!

Thank goodness I can return to domestic blogging come Sunday night, only 30 hours of this to go!

 

11:38 AM | 0 Comments | Tags: , , , ,