Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Bogey Hole/Golden Gooseberries



THE BOGEY HOLE



The name sounds very ominous,

Though it's innocent I've been told,

But a Bogeyman was a character

In fairy tales of old.

And a certain military Bogeyman 

Is associated with this scene,

A man in charge of Newcastle

Who was very cruel and mean.

One day he decided

That he needed a private pool

And his method of attaining it

Was typically cruel.

He lined up poor oppressed convicts,

Each one behind another

And made them beat the one in front

Brother scourging brother.

I hope he enjoyed his morning swims!

Morisset was his name.

Fancy being remembered

For such an act of shame!
*
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GOLDEN GOOSEBERRIES
(Watch out for alliteration!)



The golden gooseberries hung in splendour,

On my grandfather's garden fence.

Tantalising in fine fulfilment;

Round and illegally immense.

Illegal because the garden grower

Fiercely forbade our tender touch;

Gooseberries were for jams and jellies;

Dessert delights we loved so much.

But how they gleamed and glowed rotundly

Globular, golden, mouthwatering too.

We children chose to ogle odd ones,

Till growling Grandpa came in view.

Green gooseberries had a very sour taste,

Ripe red ones were always past their best.

The golden gooseberries! Pure perfection!


We'd steal one and leave the rest.
*


Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Lost!/I Remember Winter


image.png


LOST


Oh the tragedy! ( Capital T!)


It goes on and on occurring to me.


Two socks plunge into the sudsy foam


But only one of the socks comes home.


In the linen basket they've clung together


Hoping to dance in the windy weather


Side by side on the washing line,

(But only if the weather's fine.)

They may achieve this first ambition

And blow in the air in a clean condition.

But, alas, they're not free from danger....

Their next pirouette is even stranger.

Into the tumble-dryer they go

And this may be their greatest foe.

They're tossed around like leaves from trees

Are tossed around by a boisterous breeze.

They're parted, joined, then swirled again,

And every parting brings them pain.

It's up and down and side to side.

Exhausted, one of them tries to hide.

Secretes itself right at the back

And after a while they loose the knack

Of being joined at the hip for ever.

The tumble dryer has seemed to sever

A great relationship . It's rather sad

After all the togetherness they've had.

But the socks themselves are never blamed

Nor the dryer with the one sock claimed;

It's always the housewife, in this case me,

Who comes in for the usual commentary.

'You've lost a sock again,' 'he' cries!

'This has ceased to be a big surprise!

Every week you lose a sock!

And I am in a state of shock.'

Meekly, I run the sock to ground,

Hunting high and low until its found.

An Agatha Christie Mystery

Is 'The Search for the One Lost Sock' by Me.
*
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I REMEMBER WINTER
(from my English childhood)

Windblown trees and long-lain snows.....

Ice on the pond where no lily grows.......

Needles of rain from a dull grey sky.....

Threatening clouds way up on high.....

Everything dull and dark and drear.....

Remembrances from a long-gone year.
*


Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Carbuncle/Those Hooded Eyes



(For ABC Wednesday)

CARBUNCLE

Carbuncle.......not a  pretty word,


But rather fascinating.


We know it as a hideous boil,

Which is rather nauseating.

That meaning comes, in a curious way,

From the garnet, a precious gem.

It's fiery red and burning bright

In any diadem.

But that's not all! In architecture

A carbuncle is a mess,

A building which spoils the landscape

With harsh untidiness.

So carbuncle's a little word

Whose meanings we can guess;

Sometimes pretty, rich and red,

But sometimes just a mess.
*
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Seen in a gift shop in Stroud NSW

THOSE HOODED EYES

You're not one to show your feelings;

No-one can guess your pain.

You're in a little gift-shop

And there you will remain

Till someone shows some pity

And takes you off the wall,

And hangs you in her town-house,

Maybe in her entrance-hall.

No doubt she'll be Caucasian,

Seeing you as perfect proof

Of the fact that she has artistic 'stuff'

Beneath her very roof!

You'll be part of a 'collection',

And you'll, maybe, gather dust,

Alongside the Japanese fan she bought

And the neat little Mozart bust.

But I know you yearn for Bali,

Or some other Eastern land.

When I look into those hooded eyes,

Then I understand.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Sensible Solar/Still


brebry@gmail.com


SENSIBLE SOLAR

It looks so easy.......a sun-seeking roof.

The future's solar and here's the proof.

Surely such things could be easily done.....

There is such a lot of sun.

I look forward to a time

When ignoring it is crime.

How great if every roof could be

A source of electricity!

Here we see some garage space,

Such a very workaday place,


Using this wonderful source of power


To improve the shining hour.
*
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STILL
(An Acrostic)

Silently and secretly the wily spider waits,

Thinking of the helpless fly that he anticipates

I
n the centre of his web everything is still

Lest he disturb the coming prey he so desires to kill.

Lightly the fly lands

Trapped as by iron bands!
*



Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Domain/Music




THE DOMAIN

Central Park, Hyde Park, parks worldwide........


Sydney has its Domain.



A refuge from the heat of summer,



Greened by refreshing rain.



A vast expanse of gardens



There by the Harbour side



A place to wander and wonder,



And the City of Sydney's pride.

*
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MUSIC

I don't play an instrument but I do like to sing,

(Though the voice is not as pleasant a a bird's upon the wing!)

I sing in a local choir and in a drama group

(Although it has been said I sound just like a frog with croup!)

And I can vouch for music as a means to ease the soul

At times when fear and sorrow may have taken quite a toll.

Singing alone is great, of course, I warble in the shower.

(Even though the notes aren't right I sing with a certain power!)

But singing with one's friends has even more effect I've found;

Togetherness creates a really scintillating sound.

Take the men at the football, carolling as one

Some of them tone-deaf, no doubt, and singing just for fun....

The result is amazing harmony! As the notes rise ever higher,

One would think one was listening to a huge stupendous choir!

And if the chosen team should loose, once they have dried their eyes,

They can say 'Well at least we sang so that was exercise!'

So those of us not opera stars can sing with all our might

And, who knows, all our voices may make everything seem right.
*

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Sharing/A Yarn

brebry@gmail.com


SHARING

A chimpanzee , as you can see,


Is very much like you and me.

See how these two use chimp noses

To smell the scent of pretty roses.

See how they show they love each other.......

Are they friends or son and mother?

We're like them and they're like us,

Except that they make much less fuss!

They don't make bombs, or pollute the air;

They don't spread rubbish everywhere;

They don't waste time writing evil tweets

Or shooting at people in the streets.

Our brains grew much too fast, too quickly,

And the result is often sickly.

Look at this picture; get a glimpse

Of how happy we'd be if we were chimps!
*
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A YARN

A Highway Policeman was doing his job, patrolling the nation's roads,

Checking for stolen vehicles or far -too-heavy loads.

He suddenly saw a speeding car, bowling along in the sun.

The driver was clearly too casual, having a lot of fun.

He drew alongside and, bless my soul, he could see a lady sitting

Guiding the steering-wheel with her knees and casually knitting!

He wound down his window, gesticulating and not prepared to laugh.

'Pull-over! he shouted loud and clear and she yelled back 'No! It's a scarf!'
*

Friday, January 25, 2013

Fagin/Talk Show






FAGIN

Did you know that you could fagin?

I bet you'd no idea!

Although the name is known to you

As a verb it sounds quite queer.

We all know the Dickens character

Who appeared in 'Oliver Twist'.

After all it's been a major film

And the book's  on each reading-list.

Now Fagin was the character

Who led boys into crime.


He plied his trade in the back streets

Amid the London grime.

As a surname it's not surprising;

As a verb it is a surprise.

So we can say for this villain.....

It pays to advertise.
*
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TALK SHOW!
(An Acrostic)

Tut tut! Too bad! Good God! Not that!

All it takes is a bit of chat!

Lust and love and lies abound

Kiss-and-tell is often found!

*

Sudden revelations wow!

How did it happen? Tell us how!

Oh my goodness! You don't say!

What gossip will we hear today?
*