Don’t Rhyme Your Poems!

She said “Don’t rhyme your poems!”
“Well why forever not?”
I answered flabbergasted
For clearly she’d forgot
The fun and the frivolity
Of mashing up wordplay
To bring about phrases that click
And tick along per se
That bounce along on the paper
And trip right off the tongue
That put a smile on faces of
The old and of the young

A means to convey messages
In flights of fantasy
That teeter on the precipice
So sentimentally
And hop and skip cross neurons
That surge throughout the brain
Much like a trigger pulled to fire
In poetic refrain
Whilst forging easy access
Succinct to memorise
To jolt the hearts and minds of all
In a cunning disguise

Whilst delighting Mr Wernicke
And thrilling Broca too
For rhyme is classless; doesn’t judge
The reader; it is true
And all it asks in sweet return
Is that you dig the beat
Get down with it all chilled; relaxed
Whilst putting up your feet
Without pretence or masquerade
That it is anything more
Than simple undiluted words
That many do adore!

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Bankers Bonuses

The bankers are all bonkers
When balancing their books
Believing by some balmy break
We’ll let them off the hook
And let the little buggers
Bizarrely bolt and run
Away with Blighty’s bagged up bling
To have a little fun
At tax-payers expense
With big bonuses to boot
Blagging they bloomin’ earnt it all
Ain’t that a blinking hoot?

Bank of England (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Frustrations

Frustrations run through many veins
Down many pathways vear
Through eyes that look and never see
Through ears that just don’t hear
Through minds that judge yet don’t perceive
Through wants that aren’t real needs
Through hearts that feel lest understand
Assumptions that then lead
To unresolved issues and plights
That whittle down, torment
Frustrations – like a plague in life
Where else we’d be content

Majestic Clouds

Oh clouds so full of majesty
You sail across the sky
With vibrant gowns and velvet robes
That really can’t deny
Your gleaming royal supremacy
As evening heralds in
Clouds mystic and so wonderful
So bright above to win
Upon the sea that billows
In swathes of vapours high
Oh clouds drift atmospherically
In cloaks to please the eye

Christmas Spirit

Not long now until Christmas comes
And with it all the fun
The warm mince pies and pure magic
And Carols to be sung
The wrapping up of gifts galore
The cooking of the cake
The glasses of mulled wine to drink
And decs to hang or make
The shouting out at pantomimes
The cards to write and send
The fun times with our families
Or with other great good friends

But spare a thought for others who
Won’t feel so Christmassy
For whom Christmas joy is absent
Devoid of company
Those lost or simply all alone
Who need a little call
A visit or a drop in for
Good tidings to befall
To maybe share a Christmas smile
To spend a little time
So that all their Christmases come
At once and so sublime!

So let’s recall Christmas Spirit
With wishes for this day
That raise a glass and make a toast
With happiness to say
We wish you all a festive time
A time of joyfulness
A time where each and every one
Will feel so very blessed
A time where all humanity
Will join with festal cheer
To wish each a Happy Christmas
A jolly good new year

 

 

Similarity Is The New Sexy

Similarity is the new sexy
But how then does that so compare
With the adage that opposites attract
If we’re looking for a new mate out there

Though is it really in essence a shock
Even news or such big surprise
To find that we’re in fact much more attracted
To those who mirror us in our own eyes

For stop for a moment and just think how
Similarities do pan out
With less differences there on the table
There’s so much less to then argue about

For it is seems transparent and certain
That sameness between you and me
Is in fact rather sexy; seductive
And the thing we call similarity

Written in light of a lecture given by Viren Swami (The Psychology of Attraction)

The Sky Is On Fire

The sky is on fire
It’s burning so bright
It’s driving the sun
Down and down, out of sight

It’s spreading its red
And strong orange rays
Cross heaven’s expanse
It’s the end of the day

The sky is on fire
It’s burning so bright
The sun disappears
To then herald the night

The night has arrived
Encased in the dark
But light will come back
With the song of the lark