They are cutting down the flowers with a scythe
They are taking love and all who may survive
Months of nurture tainted
Only just acquainted
Who will live and who will fail to thrive?

The flowers have lived, have seeded and have died
Another generation comes behind
Broken is the pattern
Bloody are the phantoms
Unspoken all the centuries of lies.

See the blind  men  preaching, absent eyes
The nomads are required  to cease their rides
The destruction of an era
The many years of terror
The paranoia flourished till love died.

 

There can be no sacrament of lies
Jesus lived, the Trinity has died.
On the cross, he hung,
While the masses sung.
The devil’s handing out six million cries.

My husband, a programmer in an arcane computer language (AS400 if you’re interested) was asked to give an example of one of something I’m good at. “She’s relatively computer literate” he said carefully. “Relatively.” Fine praise indeed. As a child I learned simple coding on a wobbly ZX81 which would randomly lose all its […]

via Autism and Minecraft.  — It Must Be Mum

I wonder should I write a villanelle
Should I write a sonnet or  rondeau
Or how about a walk upon Snaefell?

They say only free verse will now sell
I could break the formal up if I am slow
I wonder should I write a villanelle

We don’t hear much today about the dell
And do eternal waters ever flow?
How about a walk upon Snaefell?

The curfew may sound once more the knell
And into bed, we lazy people go
I wonder would I   blight a villanelle?

 

My husband used to like a mackerel
The smoky taste gave him a  certain glow
He could not walk as he was over-full

Never go where politicians go
Do not let your depression grow and grow
I wonder should we write, not kiss,  and tell?
Or how about a walk through living hell?

I need to go back to the doctor
I’ve been looking ills up on the Net
I’ve got schizophrenia.
AIDS and anaemia
I am feeling a little depressed

If I read all the newsletters I signed for
I will find I have got more things wrong
I’ve got an ache in my bladder
I fell off the ladder
The hypochondria has got into both lungs

My bedroom is full of potatoes
As the kitchen has run out of space
Is this a disorder
Where is the border
Between creative ideas and disgrace?

The bathroom is covered in toothpaste
Why’s it so hard to remove?
My teeth still keep breaking
And my right hand is aching
I use  alcohol to get soothed

But the wine merchant rang up my doctor
He told him a drank to excess.
My credit card bounced
No money to advance
And they’ve stolen my email address.

I guess I could  eat baked potatoes
And fill myself up with baked beans
Money ain’t  everything
But it’s the next best thing
Heinz has been blessed by  the Queen

 

From the Daily Telegraph

A man was murdered while walking down the High Street.Police say it is his own fault  as he looked like Jimmy Saville.
A woman was raped behind the Post Office.Police said she is so attractive they blamed her for the attack.
A  man who was taking photos up women’s skirt was not punished.The judge said women should wear trousers  while  out of the house
A boy using a Windows phone was beaten up by a gang.The police say he should have known they only want iPhones and asked his Dad to get him one.He said they are living on Benefits and can’t afford one.The police blamed him for not being a coal miner anymore.
A man who put a cat into his washing  machine got a 5 year sentence for cruelty

I did not know I ran  in a long race
I only sought to find a starting place
I loved to run forever, ever chase

My motives were cut off but never base.
I wished to ease my mother’s frowning face
I did not know I ran  a startling race

I saw that nothing I did  quite could erase
Her sorrow, rage, the shame of all her days
I thought I’d run forever, ever chase

I tried to alter course in various ways
I took to drink yet made my grades all As
I did not know I ran  a pre- damned race

I took flute lessons; earned gargantuan praise
I  got a lover; lay with her all day
I thought I’d lie forever, never chaste

My mother said she had been well disgraced
Saw all  her daughters who had been misplaced
I did not know I ran  to see her face
I wished to learn  but  did not want to race

The brightness of late summer light,
The songs of birds whose brood take flight.
I love to  hold these earthly pleasures,
And so to fill my mind with treasures.

The conversations with my friends,
The closeness only death will end,
To share my life with those who care,
How could we have better fare?

Those who suffer pain and grief,
From whom love's stolen by a thief,
Let us take them to our hearts,
So their healing path can start.

Those who are fear friendship and love,
Who set themselves at too low worth,
Do they know how courage grows
Through acceptance of our woes

Life is tragic comedy.
Love may be the remedy.
Though if we give our hearts away
We shall have grief and pain to pay.

But if we lock our hearts up tight,
And keep all feeling out of sight,
We will wither like dead leaves,
Of our whole life we'll be bereave

Cello pieces make me feel so good
The middle range, the sonorous, the sweet
I listen to them if I’m in a mood

I prefer them to most humans, hiya dude
The rhythm, the singing, and the  gentle beat
Cello pieces make me feel so good

I like Bach  most when I am feeling blue
Rostropovich, I with love do greet
I listen to them if I’m in a mood

A viola is an octave  just above
I like them too  when I have toxic heat
String music  directs my heart to  God

Most composers wrote for violin, so loved
But difference and change is good when we’re replete
I love to hear the sounds of wind and wood.

When I love some music I repeat
At a concert never press delete!
Cellos  make me feel  that all is well
I soak there as the seas inside me swell.

Do you think it is worth paying for gift wrap on Amazon?
Do you ever eat meringues?
Are you diabetic?
Do you hear music as you clean your rattling teeth?
What is the difference between “endure” and “accept” and how do you accept?
Do you listen to the radio on your phone while pretending to be listening to a guest and if so, how?
How many watches have you got and why?
Did you know the young don’t use a watch, they look at their phone?
Can you imagine going out without your phone?
Does anyone ever say, to you Have you got the time, please?
Does anyone ever say anything to you outside of your home?
Is Prince Philip retiring because of his age?
Do you ever gossip? Tell me some!
What is gossip, anyway?
Do you think God controls that little green man on street crossings?
Are you selfish?
Do you believe God would create Hitler deliberately?
Do you go to the new church?
Why?

The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear
Pale people sit in  the once  empty chairs
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

Will Donald Trump press buttons nuclear?
Our ghostly anguish suddenly lies bare
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear

At every level, we are  what we hear
And what we hear is not  quite  what is there
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

Possessed by image of  the great Shakespeare
Macbeth and Hamlet, recall old King Lear
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear

We ponder  what is worst and what is dear
We wonder whether  Satan’s left his lair
Will we lose our money, our treasure?

But we are wealthy, we have all that’s fair
Compare us not to Murdoch and his Sky
The hall of banking’s full of angst and fear
Why not give some  money on  the poor?

Did you like Mrs May’s leather trousers?
Is Theresa May a strong person?
Do you like Trump’s hair?
How did you like the Urgent Care Centre?
Did you break you leg or was it always bent?
What do you think of the new buses.I fell over backwards on one.
Wow, there’s a new bus stop.If only  there were enough buses
Do you listen to music on your phone?I can’t stand up on mine!
Would you  emigrate to the USA?
Do they have Chip Shops over there?
Do you think it’s ok to forcibly pull passengers  off a plane?Only Asians, you say.Have they not suffered enough?
Did you see a new butcher’s shop has opened?
They sell smoked haddock
Were you always a vegetarian?
Have you got a postal vote?
Why not?
Are you tired of politics,elections and referenda?
No,I’,m not showing off I was born a like this.
My mother tried to send  me back but we didn’t have Amazon then otherwise I’d be a book!

---

Does God exist? What can this question mean?
Existence  is a concept  of the  mind
Who can weigh or measure the divine

We wonder if God ever has been seen
He was there before  the eyes unblind
Does God exist? What can this question mean?

Who was here before our voices screamed?
Was the essence of the world designed?
Who can weigh or measure the divine

Someone wrote a story , set a scene
The Burning Bush  spoke in its own  good time
Does God exist? What might this question mean?

We may meddle outside of the lines,
The danger of hubris is well  defined
Who would weigh or measure the divine?

I write with my old pen on paper lined
Infinite the resources of the mind
Does God exist? What will this question find?
Can we approach or kill what was divine?

Though the berry’s rich and sweet
As are its siblings from bright flowers
The old blackbird  disdains to eat

Like a human in defeat
Paralysed, inert for hours
Though their life is rich and sweet.

From  outer life, they now retreat
Yet the mind has purpose, power
So the dark bird will not eat.

The conscious mind in its conceit
Thinks it’s all and then will cower
Sad  since life is near and sweet.

Still, in me, my heart will beat
And petals decorative shower
Oh, the dark bird will not eat.

All around, mature trees tower
But the human world’s ordure
Though  red tberries are still sweet
The old blackbird for hate won’t eat

 

Doctor may I have a word
My head’s confused, my visions blurred
I walked into the wardrobe door
And all  my clothes jumped to the floor
I had nice burglars but they left
I had no  riches for  their theft
I have  cheap pendants and a watch
Nothing much for them to touch
I burned my dinner  and the pan
I don’t know when  all this began
Could it be a UTI?
Will you please test me today?
My feet are   dry ; my hands still  sweat
So my gloves get  much too wet
I think I’ll  lie down  and forget
The gelatine will never set

More Shel Silverstein

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/sick-by-shel-silverstein

 

How to Write Funny Poems

 

1. Read Responsibly: Never seek to copy the work of others. As read your favorite poems, pay attention to what you find funny and humorous. Often you’ll realize that your favorite poems are the ones that display the personality of the poet. The majority of funny poems come from funny people who do not care whether or not their poems are considered funny. In other words, you must find your own unique sense of humor.  Learn to make yourself laugh and the others will follow. Humor is purely a matter of opinion. Read responsibly. Read poetry to entertain yourself but never to get new ideas for your own poems. If you do, your new poetry will be someone’s old poetry. Some of the greatest humorous poets of our day contribute their success to writing their own unique poetry without contaminating their style with that of other writers. That being said, you should still read my poems. 😉

2. Make a List:Most poets suff

I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat

That want to pull me to the darkest deep

My husband cannot leave or be remote

He wishes me to join him in his sleep.

I shall resist for I desire to live

Though blind now are my hours without his face.

I have no more I hope to give

Since he withdrew from me his kind embrace.

As lonely as a swan without its mate.

As tired as swallows after they migrate

I must accept my unconsoled fate

I’ll not accept this be a constant state.

From my loss, I shall recover when

The birds return and summer comes again

Nowadays people have got the idea that writing helps one emotionally.Sometimes they have carried out experiments on groups of people and found the immune system was better on those who expressed their problems in writing.The scientific way  is one way to look at  it or we can use our experience,
With trauma writing or talking about it soo soon can make you feel worse.If it is an emotion like sorrow or anxiety it may help simply because if you start writing it is a form of distraction.
Apparently writing in form is better than free verse as it creates a  psychological container for the emotions.I read  Sylvia Plath might have been less depressed if she had written in form in her last year We can’t prove that
Another idea I have had is to use the energy of the emotion in your writing but write about something else.Using the energy is good for you.I think.I have done this and it helps because when we are upset we need to soothe ourselves.Some people clean out a drawer, for example.So if you write a letter about something different the act of writing  has a soothing effect.I assume you will not write a nasty letter or email as you will feel worse and upset the other person.
Poets have a higher suicide rate than other people but it’s hard to know what is cause and what is effect.
All writers spend a lot of time alone.Leonard Cohen needed that and it made his relationships hard for his partners so often they left him.He suffered from ssevere depression but said suicide was undignified!He managed to have a long career and certainly shared his feelings of love and loss and about politics.

I thought about me  trapping some  free verse
Where does it hang out when off the page?
I could change it to a sonnet, at my worst.

Humans were once hunters and we’re cursed
We still have the vision and the rage
I thought about me  trapping some  free verse

If verse were never free, it might get terse
Put a sign up saying, I’m engaged
I could change it to a sonnet, at the worst.

Into  slavish  forms we are coerced
Joan of Arc was burned  tied to a  stake
Who thought of her escaping or rebirth.?

If only human actions  were rehearsed
We could change our paths  as do snowflakes
I could change life to a sonnet, verse by verse.

 

Slit the sentence, take out all that aches
Sew it up and see the world  remade
I thought about me  trapping some  free verse
I could change it to a sonnet or digress

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/glossary-terms/detail/free-verse