Day: August 3, 2016

This green country’s the home of many wild

The garden’s now a  Wood ,where dwell three wolves
The  maple red  is now the  president
And all the laws and rules have been devolved
For the sake of all the residents

This green country  gives heart like mine  no grief
For hidden are the houses standing near
And  as the wolves dance, I watch with relief
As ants and beetles stand around   and stare

For wolves are never seen in suburbs tame
And  maples are at home in  foreign lands
It may be that the satyrs play new games
And smuggle in some creatures contraband.

Let explanations die their long due death.
Let’s lose our minds and dance  in happiness.

 

Clerihew?

Henry Moore
Sketcher  of war
Sculptures massed
No gas masks
Underground shelters
Where people felt it

 

Picasso’s blue
Gave life new woo.
I like his drawing
So utterly awing.
My  legs gave way
What can I say?

Clerihew today?
Do it your way.
Sonnets are posher
And also kosher
Say it wrong
Cat bit my tongue

PMs

Neville Chamberlain
A  political stain.
He thought Hitler
Was someone littler.

Winston Churchill
Liked to lie still
He had a black dog
To guide him through war’s smog

Clement Attlee’s
Home was cat free.
It’s a funny name
But he was a great man,all the same.

Anthony Eden
Was misleading
He started a war
Not sure what for.

Harold McMillan
Is very unlike Bob Dylan
He kept his cool
And knived the fools

Rage

A force  far deeper than our anger

Elemental as a storm

Annihilating all before it

Terror makes our rage  perform

This  force thinking self is threatened

Runs to  rise and to protect,

Most murderous when  we’re most alarmed

Rage an enemy detects.

Over-riding other feelings

Depriving of the power to think

Like a nuclear  tsunami

Disconnecting human links.

Reddened vision,focused,narrow;

Eyes locked onto enemy’s

All the wider context losing,

Wipes out  our good memories

Like a mother tiger fighting,

And the cornered eagle’s force;

We will destroy  what we think other

Without  bitter,pained remorse.

Nature made such to protect us;

Yet  our  perception can be wrong.

Once the flood of feeling takes us

All reflections seems too long

Later, if we see our victims,

Will we know that we have erred?

For  hate deceives ourselves and others

When our inmost terror’s  bared.

How can we step back and ponder,

See life from a wider view?

How can we become less blinded,

So  we see our world anew?

Succumb  not to final despond

Succumb not black despair.

Often there are those who see.

Often  there are those that care.

Tempered by reflective wisdom

Rage can change  when understood.

When we find another being

Who helpd contain our frightful flood.

A different drummer

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. Henry David Thoreau
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/henry_david_thoreau.html