Over to you!
August is here what can I say
Only that time seems to go astray
Does not seem so long ago
Youthful life was a go slow
Now I realise how precious time is
Not a rehearsal so go and live
Your life to the full
And enjoy every day
Because you never know what's coming your way
This is the hand that we have been dealt
Parkinson's has been our awful fate
One day a cure I truly hope
Knowing for us it's all to late
I will embrace everyday that I awake
And cherish my time and never forsake
The loved ones in my life I hold so close
Just getting on with MY life and making the most
Regrets,yes but they will simply fade.
As memories I know will of been made.
Never say die that is the phrase,
I think those words often - nowadays!
I am proud of myself – to be sitting right here,
It takes me some time to get into my gear.
I know I ain’t pretty, still in nightie at eight,
But I’ve had a good wash, body odour I hate!
My perfume sprayed on, I smell like a rose,
So I should not offend anyone’s delicate nose!
Done all by myself though it took me so long,
Mike is still snoring as if nothing is wrong.
Bless him to bits, he has a hard life,
He has to put up with me for a wife!
Good morning to Yorkshire, it's our special day,
So here I am ready, what do you have to say?
Welcome to August from Posh Bird and me,
Who Is the one to become number three?
on the metal fence
a small dull bird
with his tail
bounced along the rail
a dull but randy
ball of fluff
but i was wrong
these were the hens
for in between appeared
a living jewel
spanish sky or
cobalt fairy wren
Nice ones, all. Welcome to August.
August is with us now,
A venerable month it's true,
Named after the emperor,
Our strength it must renew.
Our weakness is subdued
As we march on in with pride,
Victory is for all to see
As forward some do ride.
No obstacle is too great
To overcome this time,
When we all band together
And fight this thing in rhyme.
THE MAN IN THE BUS
Who was that man, the man in the bus
He could be my dad, it came in a rush
That he had children, a wife
Not just driving a bus.
I'd been combing the streets all through town,
Searching for answers, looking all round
To discover the embodiment
Of the voices
Goading me relentlessly.
The traffic continued to flow on by,
Horns peeped, sirens wailed,
Why was I here
Chasing my tail
Only to fail.
Who was that man, the man in the bus,
Who silenced the voices, temporarily of course,
And forced me to stop
To stop in my track.
To see what was real-
Not go under the wheel.
How can it be that it's August again
Perhaps someone could possibly explain
What happened to the intervening year
For to me it is certainly not clear
We have all had our up times and our downs
Many a smile and many a frown
Let's hope that next August we will retain
Our hope, our humour and emerge still sane
With thanks to all for your support
This little corner gives me pause for thought
It can be silly, obscure or quite clear
But always here for a listening ear
the winter grass was dead
but still too long
and so the mower was
awakened from its
but hidden in the growth
poor arnold lay
still chilled and slow
before the sun had
warmed his frozen blood
the mower made its swathe
through gentle grass
until we crunched a twig or peg
but no, an awful sight
a reptile still as stone
was it a snake? alas
it was dear arnold
not half the man he was
a gross mistake
his black eye stared
accusing, deep as hell
'why did you come here'
it seemed to say, 'before the
metal before the fire
we ruled this land of sun and frost
where giant wombats
thundered oer the plain'
'well hard luck mate
its our place now.'
'but for how long'
the black eye asked again
'for I have seen
the ebb and tide of fate
and one day you'll be gone
'but you've gone first'
and into the green wheeliebin
he slipped to be recycled
as a rose or cauliflower
the ultimate disgrace
Blessed am I to have such good neighbours
Who live next door at number 21
Looking out for me they really care
Retired folk with plenty of time to spare
I never have to worry about my lawn
As it always looks so neat
Cut regular, by my neighbour Pete
Pete always puts my bin out
Each week early on Wednesday morn
He carefully puts the bins all in a line
As he sits by the window, watching the time
Dustcart arrives right on the dot
And out Pete comes like a shot
Has a chat with the men, to pass the time
Then wheels the bins back starting with mine
A brilliant neighbour who fixed my fence
One of the few left, a true Gent
So any jobs that you need to be done
Just ask Pete my neighbour, from Number 21
PB please send Pete
Upon the next ferry
He'll get a welcome greet
When he arrives in Mayo
I think I know who you mean PB. He is a nice bloke.
two more posts
and there will be
'turnip' in every
Tall poppies and quest for gold
In the days of social media
Athletes should take heed
Its easy to fall into the trap
Of believing what you read
Hype surrounding our swimmers
Puts pressure on them all
Making poor performance
Seem like a massive fall
At the Olympic level
Every athlete they have paid
Their dues for being selected
Chance to show from what they're made
The good old Aussie spirit
Where the underdog is king
Seems to have been replaced
By ego Facebook and Tweeting
Come on all Australians
Get behind our Girls and boys
Remind them they are winners
In our hearts they bring us joy
For winning is an illusion
Let's send a message loud
Just to represent Australia
Of our athletes we're all proud
Poetry by Jovo Cirkovic
The Olympic quest for gold
Every morning at 4am … I wake up and start to train
I stretch my aching muscles as I mentally prepare my brain
Competition is hotting up … and only one can stand
A winner on the podium … gold medal in his hand
Agility is a must as the seconds count down time
Thoughts clear on purpose as I approach the starting line
The field is set no time to linger as I look up at the sky
Ask myself just one last time … will the hero today be I?
Alas a noise to my right before the starter blows
Someone’s quill did hit his page as the mark upon it shows
Disqualification is the rule … for false start in this race
With bowed head he leaves the field … sad look upon his face
Starter sounds and no false start … everyone is pleased
My quill glides across the writing parchment with a graceful ease
Words are formed as verses grow like a Shanakie tale of old
I finish first and recite my poem … earning the Olympic Poetry gold
Poetry by Jovo Cirkovic
Great poems - I'm glad you've joined us. I will come up with an Olympic poem eventually but finding time is difficult at the moment. I think I might have put one in the July thread.
Keep 'em coming.
My friend's father-in-law died today after a battle with cancer. He went to live with her and her family a few weeks ago, so that he was not alone.
I am at peace, no longer trapped in clouds,
The sky is blue, the air is fresh and clean.
Your silent thoughts, I hear them through the crowds,
My tears now dry, I think of where I’ve been.
You filled my life; in yours, I played my part,
It was with pride I watched as you grew tall.
I leave you now as mem’ries fill my heart,
It is with thanks, I feel that I must call.
As rivers run, my life has been on course,
With twists and turns, meandered on its way.
The rain drops fell, sometimes with extra force,
But with sunshine, you brightened each new day.
I am at peace, no longer trapped in clouds
Your silent thoughts, I hear them through the crowds.
One of my favourite poems about celebrating life ...
By: Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read
With your life's actions to rehash,
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
Lin, Sad day, nice poem.
SBNS, Like your choice of The Dash. Also, enjoyed all the poems you've posted.
Love lasts not forever
From loved ones we must sever.
Heartache then ensues
We suffer from the blues.
Give us strength to cope,
To find a reason for hope.
A light someone must send..
Does this darkness never end?
IN A COUNTRY PUB
He went that evening to the pub, with a mate.
To catch up with others, and get up to date
With all that was happening
In their lives.
He had a few drinks, but not too many
Still he was forced to go spend a penny,
And headed in the direction
Of the "Gents".
He sighed with relief as he did up his zip.
No sooner done, he felt the pain in his hip,
Searing pain in his side,
Also his head.
The kicks rained on him as he lay on the floor,
Unable to move, he could bear no more,
Then the landlord arrived
Just in time.
His assailant ran off, pulled away by the hair,
Disappeared from sight, without a care
For his victim lying prone
On the ground.
He had been chosen, randomly, on the night,
The prey for a drug fuelled and tight
Aggressor- and one already
Known to him.
He knew him from school in days gone by.
He still knew him now, simply to say Hi,
How are you, how's it going.
Fine he'd reply.
To find he was attacked by someone he knew
Left him pained and angry, it's true,
His mental anguish hurt much more
Than bruises galore.