Wednesday, July 30, 2014

737 - A Pig Wrestling Boycott

A Pig Wrestling Boycott

There are those 
Who seem to require
Conflict at every turn;
For the harm they cause
Or the bridges 
They burn.

They fight
With a cruel 
Perverse delight
They have one basic aim:
To drag you 
With them 
Into the mire—
Best you don’t play 
Their game.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Sunday, July 27, 2014

736 - Master Jack

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #171) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are: 

dabble, thrill, whack, hallowed, blasts, stained,
hunt, unfolds, shallow, center, skill, reveal

Master Jack

This is the tale of Master Jack,
A thrill seeker, of sorts,
He dabbles in all kind of things
Like making beers and ports,
He’s tried to paint and made stained glass
But never took to sports.

He’s whacked in nails, he’s cut up wood,
He’s hung and centred prints,
He’s mixed strange potions in his shed,
Then ignited them with flints.
The blasts that came from some of these
Are talked of ever since.

He played with words and written things,
Poems, prose and letters;
His favourite task on a rainy night 
Is to bravely try to net a
Pun or double entendre,
The naughtier, the better.

He’s poked fun at hallowed icons,
He’s pruned a lemon tree,
He’s made a shallow garden patch
He’s sailed upon the sea,
He’s built a robust barbeque
That will outlive World War III.

He’s made the perfect omelette,
He’s emptied out the drains,
He’s eaten deep fried guinea-pigs,
He’s slept upon a plane.
He’s unfolded paper road maps
And refolded them again.

Yet when his deathbed beckons him,
To look back on what he’s done,
At all the skills he’s tinkered with,

He’ll say it has been fun
But examination will reveal
That he hadn’t mastered one.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Saturday, July 26, 2014

735 - Freedom


Is a relative thing,
And, rather than displayed,
The bars 
That seem to hold us in
These rods,

A  gift 
From meddling gods,
To melt 
And fall away,
As we embrace 
The coming spring
And shun 
The winter’s grey.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Thursday, July 24, 2014

734 - The Social Club

Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were: liberal, profane and quarrelsome.

The Social Club

We all err on occasion,
And, driven by civic pride
Or perhaps some dark social guilt,
We join committees,
Volunteer to help some
Worthy Cause.
Sometimes the profane—
School management,
A club secretary, or worse,
A junior athletics coach.
Sometimes the more secular—
Church cake stalls,
Opportunity shops,
Liberal Party canvassing,
And the weekly meeting organisers.
Invariably, as a seemingly
Immutable law of nature,
We meet up with one,
Two, or sometimes, alarmingly,
Even more of The Ladies.
The Ladies run the show.
Large pigeon-breasted women
In floral frocks, with permed 
And largely indestructible hair,
Always quarrelsome,
Always strident,
Smelling of Camay soap
And the last dregs of Blue Grass,
Never ever able to understand
Why you have no wish
To go door to door,
Selling lamingtons.
They are the rocks of our society
On which many a good deed
Has perished.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

733 - Le Tour

Poets United Midweek Motif is "Le Tour de France".

This is the time of Tour de Fronce,
Avoid it if you have the chonce—
Ev’ry year, the same design,
An endless bloody conga line
Of sweaty men in Lycra ponce.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Sunday, July 20, 2014

732 - The Forest

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #170) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are: 

magic, forest, swarm, storming, words, without
hangs, while, thrive, passions, creature, jump, hum.

In a week of bad news 
From Gaza and the Ukraine,
The mood is sombre.

The Forest

There are demons in the forest,
Creatures of passion and venom,
Creatures who thrive on conflict,
Creatures who wait, impatient,
To swarm like impatient ants,
Wait to jump at the first opportunity
Without sense or sensibility.
Tribal foot soldiers,
Fed words of hate;
Words intended to engender fear 
For people they have never met,
People accused of witchcraft and magic,
Of eating the new born,
Of worshipping cloven beasts.
Or so they believe.


We all have such an inner copse,
Where the air hangs heavy with suspicion,
Where fears breed and multiply
Ready to emerge
Like an avenging army 
Storming over the surrounding fields
While knowing little,
And learning nothing,
Of the local villagers.
Innocent bystanders.
Collateral damage.


There is a murmur in the forest:
The hum of activity,
The hammering of metal,
The stamping of feet,
The throb of anthems.
The birds are leaving
And the sheep in the fields
Graze fitfully.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Thursday, July 17, 2014

731 - Nocturnal Emissions

Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were: fraught, honourable, nocturnal.

After a few late night sitting in the parliament,
the Australian Government took the foolish,
but ideologically driven, step of
removing the price on carbon pollution.
Sadly, too many of them think God will save them.

Nocturnal Emissions

The honourable crew decided,
In a manner rather fitting,
To return us to a darkened state
With a late night sitting.

The science was roundly derided,
The lies were unremitting,
The guillotine gagged debate,
The party whips were spitting.

And so they sat, this gallant bunch,
Lawyers, doctors, bankers,
And took a fraught and backward pace,
To ignore the climate canker.

Once we come to the final crunch,
The Eden for which they hanker,
Will be a most unpleasant place—
The bunch of bloody wankers.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

730 - The Snake Lady

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ World Snake Day

The Snake Lady

A woman with her hair full of snakes,
Is a menace, ev’ry step that she takes—
All her social outings
End with screaming and shouting
And she gives her poor hairdresser the shakes.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

729 - The Old Soldier

The above photo (or something a bit like it)
was the prompt at The Mag.
The stairs, and their wear, made me think
of old things and repetition.
Sounds like a cue for a villanelle.

The Old Soldier

Fearful of all that lay ahead
And bearing the scars of pointless war,
He climbed the staircase to his bed.

He’d walked amongst the living dead
On a Stygian sea he’d washed ashore,
Fearful of all that lay ahead.

Many had died and many had fled,
Remembering all in this broken corps 
He climbed the staircase to his bed.

But he seldom slept, for the dread
That would drench him to the core,
Fearful of all that lay ahead.

With heavy heart and weary head,
As he had so oft before,
He climbed the staircase to his bed.

He could see the future, so it’s said,
Visions he could not ignore,
Fearful of all that lay ahead
He climbed the staircase to his bed.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014

Sunday, July 13, 2014

728 - Milk, with cream on top.

Mad Kane has a weekly limerick challenge.
She provides the first line,
The rest is up to us.

A woman was lying on the floor
When her husband walked through the door.
He ruefully assessed,
As the milkman got dressed,
That his milk would be costing much more.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2014