Fa – the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian

Tag Archives: Poetry


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Thwarted by the Judges

THWARTED BY THE JUDGES

 Humpty Trumpty is thwarted by the judges’ decision

He’s temporarily lost sight of his campaign vision

Whereby he’d ban all those he dislikes

Such as muslins and ISIS and terrorist tykes

He thinks signing an order with writing so bold

Is going to put foreign attacks all on hold.

 

He’d do better to listen each day when they meet

To the intelligence guys about whom he tweets

He declares what they say is simply a bore

I’d rather listen to Putin, what’s more,

He and his boys hack our systems each day

So I know already what my folks will say?

 

By the way, if you like to shop through the mail

Instead think of Nordstrom’s where they’re having a sale

On all of Ivanka’s line which they’ll end

Because sweat-shop clothing is ceasing to trend

What’s left over they’ll send to Goodwill

Or use them as rags to clean- up the Hill.

 

He regrets that he hired Spicer the schmuck

Who’s a whole hockey game short of a puck.

He’s there only to spout more White House lies

That leaves the Press just rolling their eyes

  And as for Conway, not tight with her ethics

Spouts a witchy form of White House polemics.

 

Each story they say has a moral you know

For Trumpty t’s this; you’ll reap what you sow

All of your hatred big talk and your scorn

Is just like hot air out of a horn.

Mexico’s not going to pay for a wall

U.S. taxpayers will be taking the fall.

 

You’re a liar, a cheat, a con and a fraud

Your Executive Orders just leave us appalled.

And talking of speaking what’s with that weird voice

You use when talking to people of choice

And your hands they make gestures like pictures in air

You do it while standing or when in a chair

 

By the way I should mention you’re putting on weight

I suggest that you diet before it’s too late

You’ll get even rounder like Humpty the egg

Before you know it we won’t see your legs

The White House will buzz with a lowered hum

Have you seen Humpty our low down bum?

 

And then without laughing and all mouths agape

They’ll look in the room that matches your shape

There they might find you tweeting your witch

It’s dark in here, where is the switch?

 

It’s time to bring this rant to an end

I only wish Trumpty that you had a friend

Who would counsel you well with a hand on your back

To stop you from errors and get you on track!


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Trumpty are you a buffoon

 

HUMPTY TRUMPTY WORLD CLASS BUFOON

 

Humpty Trumpty’s a piece of work

 

Simply put though, he’s just a jerk.

 

A disrespectful and belligerent oaf

 

It’s said he’s a few slices short of a loaf.

 

The world is on edge, the edge of our seat

 

Just wondering what’ll be his next tweet.

 

Telling us all that NATO is wrong.

 

Perhaps Putin taught him this poor Russian song?

 

How long before he takes us to war?

 

Not before we have shown him the door.

 

Be off you scoundrel, monger of power,

 

Go back where you came from your gold-plated tower.

 

You’ve surrounded yourself with yes-men too

 

None renowned for exceptional IQ.

 

They all came running when you started your hollers.

 

Mainly because they’d all paid their dollars.

 

I think you called it “pay-to-Play”.

 

The things that you’ve said just don’t go away.

 

We have it on film and we have it in sound

 

Like karma it’ll just keep coming around.

 

You can’t grab women whenever you please

 

When that becomes normal, all hell will freeze.

 

On Friday the 20th he’ll get sworn- in

 

Then start his walk on ice that is thin.

 

Sadly we’ve become a laughing stock

 

All over the world they’re beginning to mock.

 

Ringling Brothers is shutting down

 

It seems we are stuck with a left-over clown.

 

Trumpty it’s time, we’ve all had enough

 

Life in the White House is going to be rough.

 

 Only with lies you’ve made your way through

 

And now that you’re there what will you do?

 

Continue to disparage the CIA

 

And get your info from Julian A.

 

From here it looks like a very bad ‘toon

 

Trumpty are you a world-class buffoon?

 


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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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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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Uluru Called my Name- a never-ending quest

Uluru Called my Name- a never-ending quest

Yesterday an old friend with whom I’d been at sea

Stopped by my digs to check, what land-lubbing had done to me.

We sat and talked for many hours, reliving sailing days.

Remembering high-seas and hurricanes and desert island cays.

We opened some bottles of Lindeman 45 and we reminisced.

We talked of opens seas and ocean swells and of the girls we missed.

And the time we sailed from Bremen, Our cook Helmut not the best

every day for seven weeks he put our taste buds to the test.

Seemanns Lapskaus, a most unpleasant dish

We often heaved it overboard if you get my drift.

I heard Uluru call my name and said I have to go.

But why right now I cannot say. I simply do not know.

Where to my friend asked as if he were in shock?

I’m off to watch the sun at the place they call Ayers Rock.

I closed my eyes and drifted off with dreamtime in my mind,

And with Matilda underarm I waltzed away, to see what I could find.

I walked for many weeks, just guided by the stars;

Miles away from Kingsgate, the Outback has no bars.

I camped by a Billabong as Patterson had done

It was already dawning and then I saw the sun

Changing Uluru’s colour; the reason why I came.

But gently carried on a breeze, I still could hear my name.

 


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The Man with the Rowan Rod

 

This is another piece from the box of stuff I found waiting to be unpacked in my garage.

The Man with the Rowan Rod

 

He came to visit me today,

He brought his Rowan rod.

Hereabouts it’s called a fé.

When asked if that was Irish? All he did was nod.

He took my measure top to toe.

He had a grim and solemn take

He did this twice before he could go

To find the wood with which to make

My suit of fir which I would wear

With other souls who’d gone before

To the space beneath the turf I’d share.

So now I sit and wait for God,

I‘ve seen the man with the Rowan rod.

I even looked him in the eye.

He wished to speak, I could see.

At which he let out one long sigh.

He asked a question what shall I do

When my time comes, who do you

think with measure me?

Don’t worry about length or breadth I said

Upon this earth we made our bed

The time will come for us to answer

For all the stuff that we have done to others and alone

Sins for which we must atone.

I’ve confessed my sins to God

So I’ll be fine beneath the sod.

Go now and confess at least

What you remember to a priest

And he’ll have some words to say

He’ll even tell you what to pray,

As penance for forgiveness of your faults.

And when you reach the Pearly gates,

Just reach up and ring the bell.

Peter will check you in his book and the gates will open wide

Peter then will ask of you, why don’t you come inside?

On earth you measured souls and you did measure well

So much so my friend you saved them all from hell.

Your solemn look and words you spoke

Had great effect on all the folk

You met before my angel called on them to say

Before your maker you will go today.

It caused them in their last moments to give some thought

To the life that they had led.

But what really saved them

were the words that you said.

Repent the end is nigh!

Today you’ll meet your lord and God

In his kingdom up on high.