Fa – the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian

Category Archives: Philosophical view


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Egg sandwiches for tea

Humpty Trumpty wanted a wall

But first he planned his inaugural ball

Not many accepted his command to be there

None of them seemed to want to share

In a dubious victory so full of doubt

Russians all over, just rushing about.

Hacking e-mails and sneaking a peek

At matters quite private of which we don’t speak.

Of course he denies it; says it’s a lie

Trumpty will soon gobble the American pie.

His cabinet of billionaires oh yes and there’s more

Millionaires too because he considers them poor.

Let’s see; classless, mean, a vindictive bully

These titles will help to understand him fully.

He suckered us all with fraud and his con

Tweets with which we were showered upon

But Trumpty’s a liar, he can lie in his sleep

And gullible folk will follow like so many sheep.

Guns are important but he doesn’t shoot

The second amendment, the point is moot.

Trumpty doesn’t like his intelligence pals

He’d rather hang out with Hot Russian gals

Putin got tired of dolls he said “Stuff it”

I want a president to act as my puppet.

If I pull the string will he be sweet?

And go off half-cocked with an irrational tweet.

Chaos is what Putin wants to foment

But Trumpty does not believe that’s his intent.

Trumpty is naïve and not worldly wise

He views the world with a newborn’s eyes.

In God We Trust a national motto

But with Trumpty I think we are playing the Lotto.

I hope he’ll learn and quickly at that

He’s no longer the man in the stupid red hat

It’s serious business he’s involved in now

No chance to mutter the words Holy Cow.

I hope too he’ll abandon his wall

A racist monument bound to appall

Even the stoutest Republican soul.

We’ve reached a point where enough is enough

The time where Dems start to get tough.

Now is the time for that rallying call.

Trumpty climb down, we don’t need a wall.

What would happen if you   should fall?

There’s a good chance you will fall on your face

At that’s the moment you’ll lose your Ace.

All the King’s horses and the GOP

Will have to eat egg sandwiches for tea!


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the Three R’s (a new take)

THE THREE R’s (a new take)

I cannot tell you what joy it is to write words down in rhyme;

The practice perfected in past medieval times.

Court jesters, Rhymesters, bards and gleemen all trained in how to tell

In epic ways, of battles in which their heroes fell.

Tales of glory handed down from father then to son;

But nowadays we do it, just because it’s fun.

Poems are but retellings, of things we live in life.

Of new-found love and sometimes alas, about a shrewish wife.

Of many things that ail us and the past which brought us pain

But looking on the bright side, the things we’d do again.

We also know of joy and happiness galore

We’ll never know for certain though if we don’t pass through that door.

And therein lies the rub; holding back to no avail.

So take the chance, just sally forth, like a galleon under sail.

I start by simply sitting, day-dreaming of my youth

Then with a pen and paper I go about my proof.

It takes a bit of thinking and lots of trial and error

But after words are changed about it soon looks much the fairer.

There are many rules for poetry, which happily we ignore

Nothing would get written if we did not, of that I am quite sure.

A little trick I find, is to write then walk away;

Save what I’ve written in a drawer until another day.

I also find that reading, works of every kind

Helps to order random thoughts that run throughout my mind.

Why don’t you join me, share in all my joy?

Start by sitting down to play with words just like a toy.

Maybe then you will find out that what I say is true

But Reading, Riting and Rhymatic is entirely up to you.


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Mea Culpa, carpe Diem, Etcetera

There was a time when still at school

At Latin I was such a fool.

And when it came to noun declensions

I was quickly ordered to detention

And there watched by a cap and gown

I wrote the conjugations down

Amo, Amas, Amat.

I did not love and that was that.

I asked what’s all the fuss

Why me Lord, Quid mihi Dominus?

And all that He would ever say,

Oramus, oramus let us pray

And so it was on bended knee

I offered up my only plea:

Quare hoc malum why is this bad?

I felt like I had been had.

I saw no purpose in this dead lingo

Can you imagine Roman Bingo?

Duos dominarum, two fat ladies, eighty-eight,

Nunc finis, end this now, I cannot wait

Then one day the course was switched

And Latin learning could be ditched.

But what that made me I am unsure.

Vox et praeterea nihil, a voice and nothing more


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Better Days Tomorrow

BETTER DAYS TOMORROW

The sun is bright but the wind is cold.

Fine when I was young but now I’m growing old.

The weather chills me to the bone

And as I sit at home alone

I snuggle warm close to the fire

A cat purring like a feline choir.

I place sacrificial logs with care,

To burn with blue smoke and their heat to share

With all the empty corners of my dwelling.

What Joy! I hear a church bell knelling

] the death of winter. Jack Frost be gone.

And take your flaky friends.

Just step aside, make clear the way,

Spring would like to have her say.

Plants are stirring in the ground.

Soon I’ll see my garden crowned

With Snowdrops white and pure

Only then will I be sure

That spring will be here soon

And summer’s heated days of June.

When the sun makes it too warm to bask

There’s a question I’ll no doubt ask

Jack Frost where did you go?

I know this might sound quite bold

But deep down I prefer the cold.

Even if the cold winds blow

Winter’s snow is one great show.

You can’t hear snowflakes when they fall

They arrive in silence to cover all

To hide the ugly sites we make

And all the features which are fake.

Like diamonds scattered everywhere

Crystal beauty free to share

With all of those with eyes to see

One does not ask how this can be.

Nature’s majesty and splendor

Behind each season’s door.

Cold, hot warm and even wet:

Each day I wake gets better yet.


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Footloose

When I was footloose and fancy free

I had an urge to go to sea.

But in truth a ship I could not find

I had read about the Golden Hind.

The only ship that lay at anchor

The owner a local merchant banker.

She was the good ship Walrus

Just as well you did not see us

A motley crew that was quite true

But our hearts were keen and our fears were few.

Some press-ganged from too much ale

Consigned for now to help her sail,

And follow on the breeze

Bound to the west and open seas.

First our heading north through the Irish Sea and past the Mull of Kintyre.

Through lightning and heavy rain I saw St. Elmo’s fire.

A good omen I was told, to see a ship aglow

Old sailors taking in the storm as just another show.

Captain Yarman spoke to us next day

To explain how we would earn our pay.

You work in watches by the bell.

What that meant was hard to tell.

Then spoke the Bo ‘sun a sullen fellow

But beneath his gruff he seemed quite mellow.

Stay sober, be on time and that was it.

Oh! Be clean and always stow your kit.

Leave nothing loose below these decks

The surest way to break your necks

When the seas run high you mark my word

Never tell me you never heard.

That night was ever northward

Towards the midnight sun

And then as the dawn was breaking

We steered for our westward run.

Bound for the Cayman Islands and Montego Bay

Rum at Aunt Jema’ah’s place,

And while the ship was lading a little time to stray.

Those were good days, sailing on the tide.

But some years later my heart was claimed

For now I had a bride.

Her blood ran hot with cayenne spice

And I a land lubber in a trice.

Set now to growing vegetables

And digging in my plot

No longer footloose nor fancy free

Only to dream of days at sea.

The nights when in my hammock swung

Rolling with the waves

And in between the swells I thought

What have I learned in life, what lessons has it taught?

A list counted in my mind.

The most important I could find:

Never forget your passion.

Live life clean and tidy.

Ship shape and Bristol fashion.


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An Open Letter to WordPress Readers

AN OPEN LETTER TO WORDPRESS READERS  

As we wrap up the year 2016 and brace ourselves for the New Year 2017, I am taking advantage of this forum to write to you. There are several reasons I am doing this. Mainly it is to thank you for following my blog – Fa the name of the Green Dragon and to thank you also for the contributions you have made. I am amazed by the diverse topics which are posted. Speaking of myself I should clarify that I possess the soul of an adventurer but it’s trapped in the body of a clerk. You can well imagine therefore how much I have enjoyed your various adventures which you have written about and upon which I have commented from time to time.

I have especially enjoyed, without being nosey or the intent of an electronic stalker, the personal glimpses you have shared with me about your lives.

I have especially enjoyed pictures of extraordinary street art taken around London and my home town of Bristol in the U.K. I have enjoyed great nature photography from Dorset and Staffordshire, remarkable pictures and cultural glimpses into India, art from Sweden and excellent water colour art from Germany. Having made many house moves myself over the years I have been in silent empathy for those of you who moved this year. I know how stressful it can be.

I have been fortunate to have already visited many countries and to have lived in a few of them for an extended period of time. So it’s really good fun read postings from Germany, Sweden, New Zealand, China and SE Asia.

I don’t claim to be a great blogger, but my hope is to get better in 2017. This by the way is not a resolution only a tacit idea that my subconscious can chew on as I go about my day. 

A word though about 2017. Of course we don’t know what the future will bring but, for those of us who reside in the United States, I have a feeling we are in for a bumpy ride. I have no faith or confidence is the person who is about to be inaugurated on January 20th as its president. His open disdain for tradition, protocol and simple decent behavior are bothersome to say the least. But enough said except perhaps to say let’s wait and see. We can rest assured he will not fall flat on his face; his growing nose will prevent that from happening.

So now the wish: wishes are a chance to express hope and I hope that 2017 is healthy, happy and prosperous not only for you but for your families and extended families. 2017 has got to become a year of great outcomes for us all. Nigel


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Jumping Jacks

This is an End-of-the-Year light-hearted piece that ha been sitting in a box for a long time. It’s based on the nursery rhyme written around 1815.

Jumping Jacks

Jack be Nimble, if that’s your name.

Here’s an idea for a different game.

Jack don’t be nimble, Jack be good.

Only do the things you should.

Stop jumping over candle-sticks

The world is tired of old-time tricks.

Not only that but it burns my wick!

I say this with no pun intended.

But one of these days you’ll be upended.

If it happens and you fall down.

There’s a real good chance you’ll break your crown.

If you do this at any time,

You’ll find yourself in a different rhyme.

You might find it hard to take this pill,

But you’ll be paired with a girl named Jill.

Take that Jack! And your pail too.

Don’t say I didn’t look out for you.

Jack be Nimble, why the laughter?

Just wait till Jill comes tumbling after.

Your fate is sealed it’s carved in stone

From now on you’re not alone.

She’ll be with you like a shadow,

To follow you around.

You’ll be a prisoner of her guile.

Do not worry, just wait a while;

You see, in you she made one good pick.

So maybe now you’ll stop your tricks.

And take up other things to make or do.

Now, Jack be Nimble do this now

It’s for your sake, so make a vow

 Jack be Nimble do hereby swear

To never jump again.

No more fortunes told with candles.

Raise plants instead with long green tendrils.

No, perhaps not; I did not mean

That you should start at growing beans.

For that might change the rhyme once more

Running for dear life towards the door

Of a giant’s castle in the sky

Bound on baking you in a pie.

Down the stalk and run instead

Home to mother and your bed.

Stay there forever, forget the game

I even hope you forget my name.

Forget what I have said today

Just go about your life your way.

Go back to being nimble and also quick

Continue jumping candle sticks

That you will fall we have no fears

Because you’ve done this for two hundred years.