Mirth

MIRTH

Just to look at this leaves a chuckle in one's heart.

Use your imagination and let the giggling start.

It's obvious those skinny legs are made to bend and sway,

Adding a childlike attitude to the fun on Xmas Day.

The screwed-up eyes are telling; the joy is unrestrained.

And the little hand covering the mouth, proves the merriment's not feigned.

Decorations are ten-a-penny, the tinsel and the trees;

So it's good to find a Santa which does nothing else but please.

*

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HOT DIGGITY DOGGEREL!

What is a Writer? I hear you ask.

Who is this person and what their task?

They may be living in garret or hovel,

Writing the perfect Australian novel. 

They may bend their brows over timeless prose,

Through which the course of history flows.

Or maybe they write for Mills and Boon,

With men who smoulder and girls who swoon.

They may be producing a heavy tome

Concerning the goings-on in Rome,

With inspiration from the past;

A cavalcade with a mighty cast.

On the other hand  there's the essay-writer

Whose works are briefer but never slighter.

Memoirs are writings that seek to capture

That well known 'first, fine, careless rapture'

There are writers of speeches who use the pen

To spur things on in affairs of men.

Who use their language to make that spin

That lands us all in the mess we're in!

And then there are  diaries we daily write

Recording our lives before sleep each night.

Although they have no literary merit

They're something others can inherit!

So much for prose! Now we come to verse,

Lyric and long, or short and terse.

There are those for whom the thoughts run deep,

Whose passions shudder and terrors creep.

These words are chosen with lengthy care

And the depths of  souls are then laid bare.

A hint of a rhyme would be out of place

And a rollicking rhythm would be a disgrace.

And then there's the poet we know full well:

The higgledy-piggledy and pell-mell.

Whose simple doggerel  merely hops

From rhyme to rhyme until it stops!

Yes of all the many different bards

Let's remember the writers of greeting cards.

The writers of la-di-dah and chant

Whose words you send to your favourite aunt.

Those poets who write 'the holly berry'

And neatly rhyme it with 'Joy' and 'Merry'.

With Happy Birthday! Glad New Year!

Anniversary,  Festive Cheer!

Lots of Luck or Congratulations!

Even, at times, Commiserations!

Brand New Baby! Hole in One!

Happy Retirement from Everyone!

Although their words aren't smouldering, yearning,

They do help this sorry old world keep turning.

And now it is the holiday season

I write to greet you!

A very good reason.

*

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PS

My friend, Pam, gave me a great surprise yesterday when she arrived at my door with these lovely roses. She's in the Melodrama group and the flowers were a Thank You. As I said to her, my involvement wit the the group is purely selfish so I don't need any thanks. But I was still delighted with these lovely creamy roses!