MY CONTEMPORARY POETRY PAGE THREE
A Star
He was a star in his own right didnt need no competitive commercial itv just let his words flow so all could read of his majesty
his visions were of altruistic fame and his stannzas flowed every one n all came out the same
His innocence and trusted pride they were just a price he paid for each young dude and pretty bride down through the ranks of poetry fame they crafted words and folks knew their names
Some were romantic others crude all dwelled in hope and poetic brood the flowing rhymes and honest toil they crafted dreams and turned the soil
Of words that made men weep and pray of young girls dreams and better days the competitive world was not for them their hands and minds a source of crafted pens
Their heartbeats flowed with thruth and love sprinkled stardust set in the richness of the heavens above I dont need to competitive test to seek the flow of words or zest
Dont need no exercises of manmade taste just a poets heart and there il allways find my true poets resting place.
wareham town
As a lad i lived in wareham town where streets were narrow and church bells chimed near the frome and piddles rhymes old cedric Hughes did ring the bells at lady st Marys church congregations swelled all in good time i shared those sunday morning revelries neath Church's tower and willow trees
the village romeo was one legged joseph mick he rode a motorbike and they sanctioned it close by the village Stoborough had its green where folks would gather from early spring till Halloween
The miller mad did haunt the walls where grass grew tall with tales of roman lords the tales were rich in history and poets words of majesty
The cockerel crowed on samways farm to wake them up was their alarm the lizards squirmed on the high grass walls where children played from morn to dawn
The trumpet major rode this way whilst hardy wrote and lambs did play the poet Barnes lived just few miles away then Lawrence Shaw at clouds hill came to stay
The guns they fired from lulwoth bay you could hear their roar every day from miles away
The streets were busy in the spring with hawkers all out and marketting nearby the garrison at bovy town where carruthers managed the officers mess for queen and crown
Whilst elmes and samways told the yarns days long past with blackbirds song as a lad i grew up there tall and strong.
POETRY GROUPS
It was the groups first meeting their very first slam n blast the cakes were on the table the choc ones just did not last
There was laughter in the hallways fun was in the air we couldnt find no tables lots of empty chairs
The spirits kinda lifted when the compere he gave chase with four and twenty jokers going to a wake the blind man gave a curtsy with his own ball and chain his wifey sat beside him theyd walked here in the rain
The poets gave renditionse lifetime stories all with roses in the porchway romance at their call t he ladies brought their knitting the men brought playboys too there were many people laughing rolf played his diddley doo
I glanced upon a wise man a seer all out to spin one hand on the bible the other passing gin the prose it was delightfull the stanzas they were fun one carried the audience to heavens gate the other went on and on and on till late
There were readings like from thatcheray poems from Hardy's pen then i heard a wise man singing hed rent his quill again The master mathmatican and the band of motley crew with one hand on the rudder and the other waved at Poole
DAWN BREAKS
In a twinkle of light through the passage of time A dream came along that was sound and so fine a hurricane roared through the streets of the pines whilst a child lay a sleeping in the land of divine
Somewhere in shadows where lullabies lay the pixies and fairies were learning to pray the deer it was running through spruce of the day whilst the shepherds were sleeping and their dreams went astray
Cross my path now said the man of delights whilst the gypsies were dancing twas a wonderful sight the cross on the hillside was blessed with his grace whilst the sinners of mankind turned away from disgrace
The clock struck the hour when dawn spreads its light whilst the children of genesis whispered goodnight the forests lay sacred and the hills cast their spell but only the good were rejoicing the fells
All through the histories where men came to taunt the reasons for waRs were cast and well learnt the battles were won yet the victory's were lost in the Truth of his words at the foot of the cross
I remember the hymns said the wise man and more like the words of the bible all twisted by whores the cock crowed at dawn and the man he just lied with a kiss on the cheek which we grew to despise
MY ENGLAND
Where bobbies walk the streets in twos and one can catch the train at Waterloo to travel down to purbeck view and saunter on to visit Poole in English hills and English downs where Hardy wrote and Tess sat down
Where Shakespeare wrote and Elliot too where bacon wrote his bible free and tolpuddle martyrs talked of liberty where Lawrence shaw wrote on clouds hill brunel created bridges to span the sea
Whilst children played their games afor their tea here church and manor house resides along sides the sandy beaches and roaring seas n tides
theres forests new and Sherwood too even buffalo bill came to Poole the east enders and coronation street the kindest people yould want to meet
The brummy lad and Geordie crew the brownsea island scouts at Poole the rose of Kent and Liverpool the Beatles and the Mersey too
The trains of steam at swanage town the malvern hills springs drink the water down the buck house of queen and kings the palaces and busker's that sing
The swans and open country lanes the dips and dales the sights n smells the journey up to tunbridge wells the fields of corn and wheat n rye the village postman pass you by
The football lads and cricketers the history and the lady Diane tears the brooks and rivers the trains n boats the island race the mix of pace
At George the dragon and George Orwell the houses of Parliament and Orson wells the crowds the tourists and the cup of tea the battle won the victory
Old west
They fought for law and order in the annals of the west folks like belle Starr long time afore may west
There were cowboys and renegades who trail blazed all the plains long before Eastwood and folks like old john Wayne
The ranchers and the farmers with cattle by the herd stallions and mustangs and armies with tall swords
Indians in wigwams who smoked their pipes of peace afore the trains came rolling and steel metal out of reach
The hills were high and beautiful with prairies for to view long before the skyscrapers and politicians with their crew
The sheriffs and the Marshall's were branded with a star there were saloons a plenty and good old belle Starr
The buffalo and bison with prairie dogs in tow cactus and lizards with rattler snakes on show
The stagecoach brought the travelers and the pony express brought the post they ate their beans and drank their coffee and chewed baccy with their toast.
Arizona badman He was an Arizona badman he rode the cisco trails rode a trail to Rio loved those gals so well
He courted all their sisters within that sharp stud school king of all the shuffles played the cards n pulled
He was a Yankee doodle dandy rode the prairie trails loved to court the ladies loved their scents n smells
Spent his nights in saloons slept in rooms of vice slumbered in her pillow beds had them more than twice
He thought he was a stallion thought he was a stud but amongst the cowpokes his name was just mud
His amour it was reckless he spent it every day the walked them to the prairies then rolled them in the hay
His stand was fine and dandy his virtues they were keen he knew the gals in Rio those in Abilene
He took them through the passions taught them one by one he knew how to undress them all get their pants n bras undone
He never once got married though he promised them all to his shame he rode the streets of this old time everyone knew his name
He was a real true bad romeo but his heart it wasn't true he probably went to visit your town to look for you and sue,
Woman
She was a superwoman branded a saint brought up a family love and warpaint
She cooked in the kitchen grew in the yard worked in the factory she played the life cards
Forsaken all others she paid the full cost deserted in marriage love on the rocks
Hurt and neglected abused by her fame she was caught in the stumps at the love game
Her children were grown now tears on the shelf childhood so full thoughts not of herself
Crushed by the pages read in the book branded a woman alone and mistook
She left her false promises apron and chains traveled the world life's not the same
Happy contented free as a bird she smiles through the window happy assured.
Home at last-tribute to John
On walks with John we did frequent the roads of wool where zunners went on durburville green where crickets played and cavaliers made their plays again
Where winfrith sheds its mushroom lanes and the lion roars in wind or rain where ships hall once stood so old and Grey welcomed the troops whilst bands did play
The wareham worget road and bridge the lanes that led to wool or ridge where chestnuts decked the boughs so mean whilst farmers ploughed and young gals screamed
Where young men took the weary tracks where brambles blessed the cress fields sacks where grooms did meet upon wool green afore the church bells rang and old Liz was queen
We walked the purbech hills once more my friend and i from foreign shores we shared our memories of dorset bared where unions bands were first declared
The bere regis headless women fame was nowt but tales of warehams reign whilst mellor and stuckey trained the crew in manners sweet and humble too
The Lawrence effigy doth declare that Shaw was rich in pastoral care that egdon heath was wild and free where hardy strolled and Barnes drank tea
The hills they offered views to kill from creech burrow top with views of Poole the Carey woods and stobourogh green the yokels danced at Halloween
so blest were we to share these scenes from bovingtons tanks to corfes great leans where windy roads and stones are cast for wrens great work were home at last.
STEVENSONS DAYS
Next to the bathroom at the top of the stairs i remember as children we all said our prayers the lines of the tables and verse oh so neat the manners of gentlefolk we all learned to speak there was food on the table though morsels were meek we were strong in our culture and our language was weak we learnt from our masters and held back our tears as we curtsied and frolicked throughout our play years
The poets were sound then with lines oh so sweet there were hawkers and pedlar's all run down the streets the air it was cold and the hares they did run the farmland was plentiful by the roar of the gun
The fables and stories we were all told our heroes were wise men and the hills made of gold the church bells they rang and the congregation grew there was laughter abroad then and boats sailed from Poole.
Soul full poet
When the poet writes with passion every line is true and clean every fleeting moment every creative scene when the words he composes seem to fly within your face like their meant to be uplifting floating in time and space
Of times he writes of hunger with Truth set to foretell ofttimes his lines are crafted by spoils of war and wishing wells ofttimes hes so emotive that he has a cross to bear ofttimes hes sentimental and says it like a prayer
Sometimes they appear like magic written in the sand like a compositions playing and floating via his hand sometimes its inspiration crafted on a theme ofttimes its love and beauty gifted in a dream
Sometimes the poets rhetoric is wit and full of zest ofttimes its full of insecurity and cards close to his chest sometimes its full of love and more with kisses on the flesh sometimes its shaking hands of Peace and often its been blessed
The craziness of writers who ofttimes spin a tale like Wordsworth Keats or Tennyson set there in a spell there's many truths confounded by sonnets sold on-line yet the poet is a thinker who sales his soul like wine.. |
CAPTAIN OF CONSEQUENCE
The captain of consequence wrote it in his map it was written in confusion he wrote it in a lapse
His memory was imminent and his intellect was fine but he stumbled in confusion when he went to feed the swine
the glory be bell ringers were praising king and queen their stories were a rhapsody they sang each halloween
The dodgy serenaders were tuning up their lines when the captain of the ship of life said all you men get back in line
they stumbled and they quarreled they drew the numbers too their fates were written in the breeze of life as they sailed out of poole
The bells were ringing loudly aS they sailed into the bay the swans were in the pool the sheep were in the hay
The four and twenty sailors were all aboard the deck drinking rum today there were boats out in the oceans miles and miles away
The captain sighted land and the seamen gave a cheer the boy was in the crows nest drinking down his beer
said he loved the taste
but he drank it at his leisure at his own galloping pace
The sultry maids were naked in the captains cabins den they were waiting for their true loves he wrote it down discretely with his fabled pen
The words were consecrated the lines were scripted blue for he said he conquered love that night on his journey out of poole
Though the land was just a mirage the map was just a whim for he had lost his mind n marbles from drinking too much rum and gin.
Seagull stories
In shadows of packages were men do delight with maidens of virtue so great in their sight
Oh promise of heaven and sweet melodies were offered in bread crumbs at the edge of the sea
the coves and the sea spray were begged from its throne with anklets and ringlets to carry them home
With wings of salvation and breasts to prepare so humble were virtues that she offered him there
The sandstorms and breezes that blew on the shores reminds him of homelands and nights on the moors the poetry was in sonnets and their hearts were in tune as they snuggled together naked under the moon
The Church bells were ringing in darkness of night with cries of the moorlands and owls clad in white the moon cast a shadow and the breeze blew a stir there were crumpets for breakfast and a long tip amour
The seagulls that swooped there were innocent spray with horrors of evening to wash you away
the hills told their story at the first break of day when the sailors came in from their trips far away.
PIRATES
The pirate ship was anchored in the bay all the lonesome sea sick sailors were many miles away
The harbor lights were fading the moon came into view all the mermaids were all singing it was a typical crazy night in Poole
The pubs were all shut n boarded there was no ale in the vaults the fishes were all swimming deep out at sea There were still stories in the docklands written down in history
The pirate crew were merry just awoke from their sleep there were flags of skull n crossbones the police all took a peep
The coastguards were alerted they'd stowed the ale away hidden it in secret caves down at lulworth bay
The writer told his stories Robert Louis Stevenson was his name he wrote of treasure island he lived at westbournes main
They say that Enid blyton lived in swanage town she based her tales on noddy corfe castle and Poole town the land was owned by Talbot bought it for half a crown
Gulliver the pirate sailed for botany bay he contrabanded tea so many miles away they still fly the jolly roger at Poole speedway today
You can still see the lord nelson singing if you look across from Poole bay for the waves still rise at stud-land where all the nudists have their day
Its all just local history passed on down in Poole today.
Pirates for a night
The wheels set in motion and the tide set to turn the anchor was weighed with the sailors forlorn
The night on the harbor was set for to see for the sailors and lost souls stranded at sea the ship rang its bell and the waves soared a spray it was a wicked cruel night on the far land today
The new found-land cruise was bidden to rest with their mermaids and wenches all put to the test the stars shone their lights all across the new bay with its houses of despute and their loves far away
The captain swore oath and the crew sang a dirge all on the night that the sailors were purged
the fresh gals wore ringlets to glisten their hair with their long flowing dresses and their breasts showing bare
The buxom free wenches offered their wares as the moon showed its blessings said sailors beware
the skirmish was over afire it begun there were fighting and kissing and rolls on a drum
The cat he drank whiskey and the mouse he was chased as the poet's of mercy got lost in this place
The bells struck a chord on the naval mans chain as the angels of mercy danced down the quay lane
the sailor rose early from his wee bed with his lover astride him so Rosy n red.
THE GALLEONS RESPECT
Fashioned by circumstance forsaken by love in idle reflections painted above
The sea told her story her anchor a chain her stern was her rhapsody her freight was her pain
The harbour before her the sailors on deck the light from the lighthouse the rocks showed respect her cruise a shipwreck
The seagulls that drifted the waves struck the shore the seaweed that clung to the lines of the floor
the decks were of timber The guns thay all roared the naval true mariner took up his old sword
The hands on the deck all prayed for a peace whilst the sailors thay cried the widows they weeped
The stars and the moon charted its course as the galleon sailed like a free prairie horse
All the sands of the shore were humbled in prayer as the mermaids danced their energies bared
The galleon was set the sea took its rest as the winds of the night showed true respect.
THE PIRATE WENCH
She put me on her pirate ship then we sailed out from the bay the ship was flying jolly roger it was a pleasant sunny day
All the sailors in the cove were cut throats through n through there were jackals in the gully the cabin boy was blue
All her ways were fast and sultry like the passions in her eyes she led me to her boudoir took off her disguise
Her sword was sharp and shining her patch was oer one eye she waved me to her bed that day as the sea began to rise
Her manner was seduction though her kiss was slow and mean she offered me her beauty i was there on the scene
Her talk was rich in sighs and shrieks her ways were common trust she showed mt love and lustful ways though she swore n cussed
She was a pirate maiden with booty all in store she led me to her contraband then we rowed back into shore.
JOLLY ROGERS
There were jolly rogers at Poole quay many years ago when hearties sang those pirate dirges and had lots of rum on stow
there were cannons in the galleries and contraband to store there were flags a top the galleons then and wenches on the shores
Those rogers boys they did sail ships they decked the ships of surfing blue they traveled o'er the rolling waves from Bristol up to Poole
The smugglers haunts were rich in tea and many kinds of shag upon the shores of lulworth cove where country folk would brag
the king of pirates sailed the seas and prospered on his gain whilst woodes the captain sailed these lands to there and back again
From Poole side docks where merchant men sold rope and fish Newfoundland was rich in gain when rogers sailed the seven seas from docks and back again
the jolly roger blew that day and the wind was all in gain whilst sailor men and ladies fair sailed the Spanish main
All pirates bold and stories told from Poole and back again the rogers clan was set to gain a place in history
From woodes great crews and sailors blue who sailed the ships of poole fame in history's great books from Poole to Timbuktu.
When the penny drops
When the penny has dropped will you trust in my dreams when the ships all come home so vivid our scenes
When the cradle has rocked within all life's storms will you still love me will you be my rose n my thorn
When the battles are ended when the victory in sight when the candles still burning late into the night
When the dreams that you cast have all flown their coot will you trust in my instincts or will you vamoot
When the penny has dropped when the lights in the tower shining forth love and there's buds on the bower
When the children are sleeping safe in their beds when the world has awoken from the wars and the dread
When the penny has dropped into my cup like a beggar still dreaming of love and pure trust
When the last drinks are over when the tavern is shut when the penny has dropped into my begging cup.
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MICHIGAN GAL
Shes blessed with something special you can see it in her eyes they way she winks and promises they ways shes cute and wise
Shes got ways of understanding put all other gals to shame shes a special kind of sweetheart you cant put her in no frame she turns the heads there daily though shes not that well aware with her eyes of green and dimples her long and curly hair her mother was a wise one her father is a dude she was raised out in the country never once seen her in a mood the fans they queue to speak to her she feints them every day with her charming voice and manners she kinda talks that way her eyes are on the stop watch though her heart is set on me for shes the prettiest cow girl this side of tennesse.
THE LAST COWPOKE
The last rider rode across the trails his heart was weary his buckskin smelled
His face was worn and his horse was tired the prairies beckoned and the Rocky's wild
The cactus brittle and the lizards free the sun it set beneath the trees
The coyotes barked and the night hawk flew there were tears and sorrow in the words he knew
The stagecoach rambled and his stetson set his dreams were over from the past he'd met
The cowpoke songs and the Indian drums the rain dance and the Buffalo's were gone
though the legends lived on and on.
ZANE GREY
When i was a kid i read Zane Grey he wrote masses of books on the cowboy of that day his pages full of steers and rides he wrote pages n pages took them in his stride
There were ranchers and cowpokes and Indians too outlaws and renegades and lonesome guys too there were fast gunslingers and ladies of the night cardsharp gamblers and sweet buxom gals guys on the make and cowboy ride tales
Rosemary and the jack of hearts saloon bosses and fleshy tarts there were rustler rides and cowboy trails high noon sights and Josie wells there was gunfights on the street of dodge with lead a firing and killers at large
Outlaw wanted and Indian wars buffalo pass and Rockies tall trains and stops along the way pony express riders on display
Cool dudes with gritty chins hard and mean and Indians all these tales Zane Grey wrote from his home in England he was after all just a limey but he loved that lore.
SAD LOST POET
I listened to his words of verse his heartaches and his pain i mesmerized his intellect lit by his naked flame his words were sounds of hurt and tears lost in the ranks of time where souls were lost in virgin hopes and sodden reels of rhyme i gathered up his sorrows there and wrote them down in thyme
The soldiers of good fortune were never in his lines his vanquished foes were empathy and grace was on the line i cast them far from merriment and hello fellows true then wrote a page of comfort there so far from his blues.
| This page contains links to my other poetry sites and my favourite links.
The durzet baird http://www.poetrypoem.com/thedurzetbaird THE GYPSY POET http://www.poetrypoem.com/thegypsypoet
DORSET ANCESTRY http://www.dorsetancestry.webeden.co.uk/
ROMANY GENES http://www.romanygenes.webeden.co.uk/
GYPSY JIB
FANCY N FREE/BRENDA WILLS POETRY http://poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=fancynfree&item=home&poetry=true
ROMANY ROAD
TRAVELLERS TIMES http://www.travellerstimes.org.uk/home.aspx?c=
CANFORD HEATH http://thingamabobs.co.uk/imagesofcanfordheath2.html
POOLE POETRY GROUP http://www.poolepoetrygroup.com/
HARLEY SUTTONS POETRY http://poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=pupwee&item=home&poetry=true
SANDRAS POETRY http://www.sandy-purplelatches.blogspot.com/
LINDA HARNETT http://poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=mistyveil&item=poetry&password=
JOURNEY FOLKI http://www.journeyfolki.org.uk/Welcome/tabid/658/language/en-US/Default.aspx
FAIRPLAY FOR CHILDREN http://www.fairplayforchildren.org/
INTUTE
DAVID MORLEYS SITE http://www.wwom.co.uk/index.html
JEANS DELICACIES http://www.facebook.com/pages/Fareham-United-Kingdom/Sweet-Jeanies/131622256876572?ref=ts&__a=6&
GYPSY WAGGONS http://gypsywaggons.co.uk/index.htm
EIGHT BULLETS
He was on his way to work they shot eight bullets to his head they'd turned off all the CCTV then they made sure he was dead
The underground was busy he saw something you see he was just a poor foreign electrician no terrorist was he
They said he jumped the barrier said he wore a coat said he looked suspicious he ran without a hope
They had watched him at his flat before they knew he was quite sane he was just a foreign worker someone they could blame
They held their own inquiry filled it full of spin the boss was known as Blair no it wasn't really him
The family all came over here to see justice done he was just a poor electrician Truth was on the run
They've held a lot of meetings told a lot of lies how they shot him in the head it wasn't very wise
When Truth is hidden behind some sorta spin you know there's no real justice when its all still happening.
Passing thoughts in the moonlight
Was it the moonlight or was it the stars was it your perfume that took me to mars was it the shadows or was it the drink was it the music or was it our link
First time i held you the fools had their day daydreaming dreamers lost on their way night time adventure with nothing to hide only the teardrops and the love felt with pride
That kiss in the meadows where the rabbits ran free that walk on the hillside where you said you loved me
That promise i gave you and told you with pride that Day in the sunshine i made you my bride
The petals have fallen from the high bough the bluebird is calling over the plough
The farmer is working and the chapel bells chime only the children sing to the rhymes
I remember the kind words that someone once spoke that laughter that day as we sailed on the boats the sailors that flirted with that look in your eyes like the candle that burns there for the good and the wise
Was it the moonlight or was it the stars was it your perfume that took me to mars was it the shadows or was it the drink was it the music or was it our link.
Chasing shadows
I awoke chasing shadows and days out of the past voices of the innocents songs that always last pen writes of creation spirits free and more some misguided acquaintance lost upon the shore
I whispered to an angel in my evening prayer with solitude and foresight i was humble there for quick was my transgressions and love my morning prayer
The questions that were answered on this world of rhyme the stories that were plentiful and they sold for just a dime
Precious were her memories like links upon a chain then i had life's blessings in the falling rain the children came to worship at the foot of Christ where grace was offered freely soft and pure as nice
Traveler's left their footprints like gypsies dancing free out upon the highway like vagrants lost at sea
The kisses that were settled like disputes or wink of eye petals in the gardens where wise men passed one by crystals in the moonlight like rainbows in a dream don't you ask the questions to a maiden not a queen
The tramps who came to call there were old and wise and free the trumpet blew from heaven to set the captives free
The hopes of soldier's laughing before the battle cries were only sounds of merriment in the twinkling of an eye.
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