New Poem

[cathidaw]

ODE TO A CAR by a RED bycycle.
,,,,
kEEP AWAY FROM ME MY BIG BLACK FRIEND'
MY WHEELS ARE FRAGILE,SLIM.
I'M BEAUTIFUL, AND WANT TO KEEP
MY BODY NICE AND TRIM.


THE GLOSSY REDNESS OF MY FRAME,
AT PRESENT FREE FROM CHIPS.
MY BELL AND SEAT ARE SHINY YET.
DON'T BASH ME WITH YOUR HIPS.

DONT GET ME WRONG MY BIG BLACK FRIEND,
BECAUSE I LOVE YOU STILL.
BUT I REMEMBER THAT BAD DAY
YOU PUSHED ME DOWN A HILL

MY SPOKES WERE BENT AND OUT OF SHAPE,
MY HANDLEBARS SIDE PITCHED.
MY SEAT FELL OFF,,,MY DIGNITY
UPENDED IN A DITCH.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

ANSWER TO ODE.by black car.

DON'T BE AFRAID MYSLIMLINE FRIEND,
TAKE CARE OF YOU I WILL.
BUT PLEASE REMEMBER-I NEED SPACE
WHEN MOVING UP A HILL.

I'M BIG.I'M HANDSOME; SHINING BLACK.
A SHAPELY BODY TOO.
I TOO, REMEMBER THAT BAD DAY-
BUT HAD NO EYES FOR YOU.

APPEARING THERE IN FRONT OF ME
A SPORTS CAR ,SLEEK AND CURVY'
SUCH GENTLE LINES I'D NEVER SEEN.
MY WHEELS WENT TOPSY -TURVY.

I SWEAR MY ENGINE MISSED A BEAT
MY BODYWORK AQUIVER.
SO-LUCKY YOU, THERE WAS A DITCH,
IT COULD HAVE BEEN THE RIVER.

[Gladys]

To Cathidaw,
A moment in time that to you was poor,
A ditch that along the road line was your saving door,
A side way out from a sleek sportscar,
Your sturdy bike; to a meek port of call,
For a fall it has caused you,you both are spared a big scar,
A tidy bit of life is cleaned up in this all.

Horrid thing, I hope you are alright.

[Shizara]

It must be time to revive the poetry section...

[cathidaw]

Shizara I agree with you.
Here is one of my favourites--not mine but Hillaire Belloc's:
Just feel the rythm.
Tarantella Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the bedding
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark veranda) ?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the din?
And the hip! hop! hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the swirl and the twirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in-
And the ting, tong, tang of the guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more;
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar;
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground,
No sound:
But the boom
Of the far waterfall like doom.

[Gladys]

Its a mixed up bag,

The wind, sun and rain,
Now it is the autumn lag
But still it remains the same.
The trees stand cloaked in leafy green,
Past time they were cowering choked of these.
The seasons have merged one to another
There's no reason for why they swing in to each other
Its just as the pendulum does.
The rages of wind and rain swept into sunshine again
The mayhem and bust
from rampages in nature's unfurling
As time passes by as sure as it must
The day carries on churning
and night time comes so fast
From childhood to teen and beyond
One or two may in time from this abscond
It's stages of life's circular cycle
Yet still the clock ticks on
The phases of our human debacle.

[cathidaw]

We walk along the cliff tops in my dreams.
My love and I, so gently holding hands..
Surrounded only by the seabirds screams,
And seas below a- pounding on the sands…
I listen for your whispers in my dreams
And in the breeze that ruffles through my hair.
Your eyes I see in mystical sunbeams,
Which dance along the ripples in the streams.
So little time before you drift away.
This precious time, before the break of day

[cathidaw]

I remember the privy at the end of the path
Its roof held together with cobwebs and lath
Twin seated it was, of old splintered wood
Quite why there were two was not understood.
Blistering paint on the handle free door
Crumbling bricks on the bare earthen floor
Damp newspaper squares on big the rusty nail
Carefully torn from an old Daily Mail.
We played hide and seek from this little room
Chanting loudly in the gloom
With sunbeams dancing through the gaps
Then ran out shouting, “Coming chaps”
Haunting evenings , full of sound
Walking up the dewy path, odd rustlings abound.
Scary moonlit monsters lurking in the trees
Hearts beating faster, a trembling at the knees.
Relief to reach that room at night, the candles in the jars
Looking upwards to the roof and gazing at the stars.
Time to ponder ,time to dream, a haven from outside.
Magical, in my memory-this place I used to hide

A PRIVY REMEMBERED