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Tick-tock the wife collects clocks
They cover the walls
There is even one in the hall,
And in the living room
Some are small and some are tall,
She even bought one off an old bloke
Who lives down the road,
But one or two of them are broke
Now she’s bought a Cuckoo clock
But that’s the only one
That does not go tick tock,
Some clocks chime like a little rhyme
But not one will tell me the right time
DID YOU FORGET TO PUT YOUR CLOCK BACK
I’ve talked a man from jumping off a bridge
Into the dark waters swirling down below
He told me that he had not got much time to live
And that he thought that it was time for him to go
I told him that he should have some consideration
For all those that he would leave behind
I said, “It may provide you with an answer to your problem
But those you leave behind will have agony of mind”.
I said,” You may think you have a got problem
And the consequences of that fill your mind with fear
But one thing you should always remember
Is that you have got many friends who hold you dear”,
“These fiends will try and help you solve your problem
And will stick with you in your hour of need
All it needs is a bit of effort on your part
And together I am sure you will succeed”
After a few minutes of earnest conversation
The man looked up and said,”Oh.I see!
Iam rather pleased we had a little chat
Because the man I was speaking to was me
I’d managed to convince myself of the folly
Of what jumping from the bridge would do to me
That things might be a lot better in the future
So I thought I’d hang on and wait and see.
Look out ! Look out !
Jack Frost is about !
He’s after our fingers and toes;
And, all throughout the night,
The gay little sprite
Is working where nobody knows.
He’ll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he’ll shake;
To windows he’ll creep,
And while we’re asleep,
Such wonderful pictures he’ll make.
Across the grass
He’ll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white;
Then home he will go,
And laugh, “Ho ! ho ! ho !
What fun I have had in the night !”
Cecily E. Pike
The door was shut, as doors should be,
Before you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.
He must have waited till you slept;
And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o’er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke.
And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane.
Rocks and castles towering high;
Hills and dales, and streams and fields;
And knights in armor riding by,
With nodding plumes and shining shields.
And here are little boats, and there
Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;
And yonder, palm trees waving fair
On islands set in silver seas,
And butterflies with gauzy wings;
And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;
And fruit and flowers and all the things
You see when you are sound asleep.
For, creeping softly underneath
The door when all the lights are out,
Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,
And knows the things you think about.
He paints them on the window-pane
In fairy lines with frozen steam;
And when you wake you see again
The lovely things you saw in your dream.
by Gabriel Setoun
I know, I know just what you cannot tell
I know and understand so well
But yet your silent voice is heard
For I know and understand
There are words I long to hear
Words I have hoped to hear for many a year
But I know that you feel constrained
And because of this your heart is pained
I know and understand
But if you would make my heart rejoice
You have no need to use your voice
For if it’s true what I believe
And if my eyes do not deceive
Simply look into my eyes and hold my hand
And I will know and understand
All was very quite as I sat alone
It was if I was surrounded by light
I felt at ease and all was calm
On a journey I was taken that night
A gentle voice said do not be afraid
Please take hold of my hand
I want to take you on a journey
To a peaceful and pleasant land
My companion was a spirit guide
Who explain his world to me?
He was taking me on an adventure
For me alone to see
He wanted to elevate my fears
That death is not the end
It’s the beginning of a new experience
This message to all I send
First and foremost you all are spirit
For the material is but brief
For as we leave the material world
Our spirit within is released
You are then reunited with your loved ones
Who have all past before?
You then will be reunited
As you pass through the spiritual door
paint, cream, and water, fire and dusty oil. You heard the water dreaming in its large kneed pipes, up from the weir. And the cordwood our fathers cut for the furnace stood in walls like the sleeper-stacks of a continental railway. The cream arrived in lorried tides; its procession crossed a platform of workers' stagecraft: Come here Friday-Legs! Or I'll feel your hernia-- Overalled in milk's colour, men moved the heart of milk, separated into thousands, along a roller track--Trucks? That one of mine, son, it pulls like a sixteen-year-old-- to the tester who broached the can lids, causing fat tears, who tasted, dipped and did his thin stoppered chemistry on our labour, as the empties chattered downstage and fumed. Under the high roof, black-crusted and stainless steels were walled apart: black romped with leather belts but paddlewheels sailed the silvery vats where muscles of the one deep cream were exercised to a bullion to be blocked in paper. And between waves of delivery the men trod on water, hosing the rainbows of a shift. It was damp April even at Christmas round every margin of the factory. Also it opened the mouth to see tackles on glibbed gravel, and the mossed char louvres of the ice-plant's timber tower streaming with heavy rain all day, above the droughty paddocks of the totem cows round whom our lives were dancing. Written by: Les Murray
I am lost, I am falling, I am now living in a world with no sleep; The night has become an ocean and I am drowning in the deep
The moon has become my sun, The stars bring light to my sky; Staring at a ceiling unable to sleep, no matter how hard I try
I am living in a silent world full of artificial light; Words fall from this pen, as pages are filled with these darks verses that I write
My eye lids are feeling heavy now, But are my eyes already closed? Or is this just a longer blink; My mattress is turning into quicksand, As I slowly begin to sink
Soft whispers start to tumble and fall down, I wonder am I asleep or am I still awake; Maybe this is all a daydream, and I am laying here just waiting for yet another dawn to break
As I fall deeper I feel my body lifting up high, as soft voices whisper they have heard me calling; But just as the sun begins to rise I wake up screaming as I feel my body falling.
BARRY MOWLES ©2012
There is a member who is new
Who requires some type of rescue!
Looking back at life’s preview
He has had his kids
Been wise and stupid
Smoked enough weed
Aging exhibits on both eyelids
No more young dreams to pursue
A time he was young with hope
Goals matured and developed
But time took away that potential scope
Old age has at last struck for true
Today he joins the old pensioners’ crew
Stuck in his fresh basement
He scorns retirement at its commencement
With continuous utter resentment
Thinking it is a washed up experiment
Today, old age seems to be of no value
A new life and a new official venue
Some meet at the post office queue
Others meet at the bookies avenue
Leaving only when the night is due
The alarm clock has ceased ringing
The ladies have stopped singing
The bread winner is no longer bringing
To him nothing anymore is inspiring!
Why is life such a screw?
Is this a new life for true?
His thoughts he has to subdue
For him life still continues
Forthwith he looks at life with a new view!
Why some people do not ponder
Before acting or uttering words of wonder?
Is it out of denseness or narrowness?
Or maybe due to immaturity or impulsiveness?
Or just to vex or show rudeness?
Are they aware of the repercussions
Of their irresponsible actions
and verbal aggression?
Shall we resort to avoidance
Or wear a costume of patience?
© Chaouki Mkaddem
I think I will write up some words,
I’m scared that you’ll find them absurd,
I’ll give it a go,
‘Cause you never know,
Ideas take flight just like birds.
My parents taught me right from wrong,
I’m glad that it did not take long,
If they hadn’t done that,
Then I’d be a spoilt brat,
Though I think I’ve been one all along.
It’s time for us friends to part ways,
We’ve come to the end of our days,
But let’s not say goodbye,
‘Cause that will make me cry,
We’ll go and leave nothing to say.
Look now into fire’s amber hue,
Let your eyes be stuck as by glue,
Remember the past times,
Absolved now of your crimes,
A man who can now start anew.
Oh!! My child!! I will soon be dead
Leaving you without any crown on the head
Only these few words that you should regard
They are more precious than an emerald
Listen carefully and contemplate every word
You have got a long life ahead
I want you to learn how to have it in hand
It won’t give you what you have pled
Unless you have a good head
And follow what I said
I really want you to understand
Life is not as easy as people pretend
It’s not heaven and neither a feather bed.
Your route is full of prickles that you should forefend
Elbow your way to reach your end
Stroll the ground to earn your bread
Make the acquaintance of all kinds of people even the bad
Be clever and on them never depend
Learn things implicitly without any demand
Take the virtue and leave the fault behind
Neither selfishness nor greed can make you glad
Be to all kinds of human race a friend
Smile at their faces even those who drive you mad
Be in harmony with whatever lives on your land
Always remember that you cannot applaud with one hand
Stand upright and keep your dignity and pride
Be the master of your destiny and never show dependence of any kind
Nothing is more valuable than what you can do for humankind
Persevere to make human life docile and no longer wild
Only your deeds can engrave your name in people’s mind
© Chaouki Mkaddem, 2010