CXXXXVI - The Lord's Prayer

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I opted to have a go at Mama's Losin' It's writing assignment from last week.
Well, sort of. Her prompt was "I don't believe in prayer because...".
I decided to take a look at this from God's point of view.
Naturally, it would be a musical.

There is also a shadow of Monty Python's Lumberjack song in the chorus.

The Lord's Prayer

I’m God! I amaze! I positively astound!
I created the heavens, the sky and the ground.
I’m omnipotent
With an intelligence quotient
That you can’t get your mind around.

Chorus
He’s a diety and he knows best
He loves his flock and smites the rest.
He has a beard,
A flowing robe,
And the patience that it takes.
He’s the ruler of the Universe
And he never makes mistakes.

I’m God! I’m King! I created mankind.
I’m the sweetest diety that you’ll ever find.
I’m Jehovah! I’m Allah!
I’m a really nice fella,
The sun shines out of my...well, nevermind.

Chorus

I’m God! I’m smart! I have global vision.
I’m CEO of the angelic division.
But by the end of the day
There’s junk in my tray,
Requesting I change my decisions.

Chorus.

I’m God! I’m tough! I know how to win.
But your lack of trust gets under my skin.
You've a habit of praying,
Over blindly obeying,
And the novelty’s wearing a bit thin.

Chorus.

I’m God! I’m mean. I’ve a hairy chest.
Junk mail irritates and gets me stressed,
Be very careful
When you send me a prayer full
I may just grant you what you request.

Chorus.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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For Gavin, read Cosmo.

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It is an interesting observation that over half of all my poetic doodlings have been this year.

And it is still March.

Other things are playing on (and with) my mind and I am finding enthusiasm and inspiration waning a little and will take a short break.

I will be seen prowling your comments every so often though.

Play nicely.
...

CXXXXV - I Wish

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I wish

I wish
You abundance from your God above

I wish
You happiness and well deserved love.

I wish
You curiosity and the bravery to try it

I wish
You health without needing to diet.

I wish
You the wisdom to clearly see
The world, not as it is, but as it should be.

I wish
You the potential with which you were born.

I wish
You wouldn't blow those seeds on my lawn.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXXIV - A Drop of Pleasure

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I am genuinely fascinated by watching repetitive things, like water drops.
The finding of the picture was just a happy coincidence.
Far be it for me to pass it by.

A Drop of Pleasure

I can be fascinated by
The simplest of things;
There is a gentle pleasure
In what nature brings.

A drop of water that
Grows and swells, then falls
Is a rhythmic joy
That endlessly enthralls.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXXIII - Missing Pieces

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One Minute Writer had a topic called "Missing"
"What is missing in your life? Are you trying to find it?"

Missing Pieces

What’s missing from your life?
Is a question trickier than it seems:
It frees the mind to run rife
But it usually grazes at extremes.

The brain’s not always a friend
And plays tricks of a nasty kind;
Your life becomes a race with no end
On the treadmill of the mind.

The house, the job, the kids, the car
Should be nothing but the best.
This sets the bar too high by far
And means you’ll never ever rest.

In life, there are some joys around
That give love and warm caress;
And sometimes more is found
If you choose to look for less.

So review the goals you’ve listed,
And ponder your earthly lot,
But heed the question, neatly twisted,
Are you aware of what you forgot?

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXXII - All that glistens.

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There has been a news story about a Japanese town with the unlikely name of Suwa,
extracting $250,000 worth of gold from their...well...sewer.
It seemed to need a poem:


All that glistens.

A town in Japan has come up trumps
By extracting pay dirt from its sumps
They chemically skewer
The gold in their sewers
But are careful to avoid all the lumps,
The lumps,
But are careful to avoid all the lumps,

In these crappy times, this town’s in luck
Now the city is making a pretty buck
With the melt down
From the bowels of the town
There’s plenty of money in muck,
In muck,
There’s plenty of money in muck,

A lover will buy his darling a gem
Or a dozen roses, red and long stem
But when your beau brings
Some golden ear-rings
You’ll wonder from where he got them,
Got them,
You’ll wonder from where he got them.

And if the stuff that exits from underneath
May one day return as the gold in your teeth
It’s time to tell
Your kids to brush well
Or they’ll be shedding tears of grief,
Of grief,
They’ll be shedding tears of grief.

It’s not a thought I’d advise you to hold
But fortune obviously favours the bowled,
So when having the urge
To sit down and purge
Remember, the sewers are paved with gold,
With gold,
The sewers are paved with gold.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXXI - Comfort Food

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One Minute Writer had a topic called "Comfort Food"
True, it was back in October last year.
I'm a slow writer.

Comfort Food

Good comfort food is a dying art
Full of things that are bad for the heart
Steamed puddings are divine
And fruit pies are fine
But you really can't beat a good tart.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXX - Helen

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Helen of Troy is known as "the face that launched a thousand ships".
One wonders, naturally, what happened on ship number 1001.
I have one possible scenario...


Helen

The ship was the loveliest ship you would see
To grace the rocking waves;
Built from the wood of the peppermint tree
And assembled by hundreds of slaves.

The time to christen it, with all that that entails,
Fell to the powers that be;
To implore the gods of all who sails
To protect them from the sea.

The crowd was restless as it waited about
Keen for the show to begin;
The hawkers made a killing, flogging cheese and trout
And glasses of dubious gin.

The Captain was looking rather proud,
For the launch of his own creation:
“Arise!” he told the standing crowd
“To show me your appreciation!”

“When it comes to ships, it must be told
Our guest has a record to stun:
She’s done it before, a thousand fold,
Today’s is a thousand and one”

“I now call on Helen, fair lady of Troy,
To bless our ship and its crews.”
He smiled and turned but soon lost his joy:
As the lady was having a snooze.

While often things are not all they appear,
Some gin may have passed her lips.
“Enough!” she cried, “I’ve had it to here
With launching your wretched ships.”

She then gave the Captain an enormous kiss
And then threw up on his deck.
While a ship’s life will often end like this
They don’t normally start off with a wreck.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXIX - Regrowth

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New shoots appearing through the charred bark of a Peppermint Gum;
the rebirth of the Victorian forests after the bushfires.

Regrowth

When the last human
Crawls into his cave to die –
Will he be missed?
Will anyone wonder why?

Why was his reign so short,
Compared to the dinosaurs?
Why did he have to fight
So many pointless wars?

Why did he harness nature
Then systematically abuse it?
Why did he evolve a brain
If he didn’t intend to use it?

No, he wont be missed
But most of the living things.
He was just another failure
In the broader scheme of things.

Despite the ills he left behind
The planet will rebirth;
With the cockroaches in control
It wont be the end of the earth.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXVIII - Reflections on a Wet City

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Photo from Dan Felstead's site.


Reflections on a Wet City

The head lights throw
Speckled shafts through the night,
As pedestrians scurry
Like mother hens, in fright.
In their flappy haste
They miss the delight.

It’s raining in town
And the whole scene’s rent;
Rain magnifies
The sounds, sights and scents
It’s all there to savour
If you are not stooped and bent.

Car tyres crackle
As they push through the rain,
The streets all bubble
Like viewed through champagne,
Like an excited child
I stand, shouting “Again!”.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXVII - The Graveyard

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Spent a couple of nights at a farm. Like so many farms, it was surrounded by defunct,
but not discarded, farm machinery. I have used the Villanelle form for this poem.

The Graveyard

Anything that comes, forever stays;
Worked to death and left to rust:
The russet bones of bygone days.

Around the bodies, cattle graze
Sharing the enemy: heat and dust.
Anything that comes, forever stays.

Skeletons shimmer in the haze,
Fringed with weeds, skywards thrust;
The russet bones of bygone days.

Metal can fight against Nature’s ways
But fails in the end, as metal must.
Anything that comes, forever stays.

The evening sunlight warmly plays
Across the carcass: rotting and bust;
The russet bones of bygone days.

Broken bodies, held in trust,
The remnants of those who could not adjust.
Anything that comes, forever stays;
The russet bones of bygone days.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXVI - The Genie Mystery

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The Genie Mystery

You rub the lamp
And, in a puff of smoke,
A genie appears;
Sometimes girl, sometimes bloke.

And then, in exchange
For some liberating task
They promise to grant
Any three things you ask.

Invariable, the winner
Of this oil-lamp sport
Chooses badly
And is left with nought.

I don’t understand why,
After two sad misses,
The lucky lamp-rubber
Didn’t ask for more wishes.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXV - Tombstone

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One Minute Writer had a topic called "Epitaph"
"What would you like your gravestone to say?"

◊

Alternatively...

Here lies the body of J Cosmo
He scribbled a note or two, on the go;
Now that he's gone and there's no more notes
Will anyone remember what he wrote?

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXIV - A Seafood Allergy.

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Laura Jayne at Pictures, Poetry & Prose poses a daily writing challenge.

The prompt for this poem was “Mermaid”.

A Seafood Allergy

I’ve never understood that seafood dish,
One part woman, one part fish.
Old sea salts, in a crackling voice,
Swear they were the catch of choice
But I can’t really say I totally agree
With these nostalgic captains of the sea.

I like my women full bodied and warm
Not blown onto rocks by a sudden storm,
Cold and wet and quite derelict
(At least their nipples would be erect)
These creatures of the briny sea
Seem highly over-rated to me.

While the literature all does attest
Them to be long of hair and full of breast,
And, reportedly, they sing a siren’s song,
But for sex, at least, their geometry’s wrong.
The books are silent on positions for fun
But it’s certainly not the missionary one.

I respect the captains and their notions
Of lovely mermaids in distant oceans
But it’s not the dream of most sane males
For their woman to be semi-clad in scales.
So, let me be firm and brutally straight:
I like my fish,
But with chips, on a plate.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXIII - Terrorism on the Eight Oh Five.

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Terrorism on the Eight Oh Five.

They stood or they sat
In their own personal worlds,
As, unaware of their peril,
Through the suburbs they hurled.

In the clarity of hindsight,
Or so reporters were tappin’,
It was surely an incident
Just waiting to happen.

The first sign to appear
Of an assault underway
Were suspicious glances
And little coughs of dismay.

It’s hard to be finding
An act more foul
Than the malodorous venting
Of a festering bowel.

But the train sped on
Not knowing the despair
Of a carriage full of people,
Desperate for air.

Come the train station,
And in a strange parallel,
People in a stink
Burst forth from their shell.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXII - If I Owned a Store

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One Minute Writer had a topic called "Store"
"If you owned a store, what would it sell?"
This originally was intended to be to the tune of "If I ruled the World"
But, as so often happens, it drifted away.

If I Owned a Store

If I Owned a Store
Every shelf would hold the loveliest of things
Filled just with the produce that the season brings
There’d be hot bread and slices and cinnamon rings

If I Owned a Store
There’d be all sorts of vegetables, tied up with twine,
And spices and condiments, arranged in a line,
A cheese room, of course, and a cellar of wine.

If I Owned a Store
Every customer would be my very best friend;
There’d be lots of real coffee, and not the pretend;
And jars of confectionery in rows that don’t end.

If I Owned a Store
All the fittings would be fashionably antique,
The paint would be aged and the floorboards squeak.
It’s a lovely idea but I’d be broke in a week

If I Owned a Store.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXXI - Lest we forget.

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Laura Jayne at Pictures, Poetry & Prose poses a daily writing challenge.
The prompt for this poem was “The Consequences of War”.
As wars seem to come around with far too much regularity
I felt a Rondeau would be a good form to try.

Lest we forget

Lest we forget the heartfelt pain
Of needless death for pointless gain.
We should be closer to the gore
To see what horrors lie in store
For victims of this terror game.

Rockets are fired at far terrain
And bombs are dropped from a plane;
People aren’t people any more.
Lest we forget.

The leaders would do it all again
They love to clap the band’s refrain.
It’s been truly said, oft before,
There are no winners in a war.
Except, of course, on the gravy train.
Lest we forget.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXX - A bit of rambling

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Photo: bestpriceart.com

Many moons ago, circa 1966, at the Chadstone Shopping Centre,
there was a shop called the Downyflake Donut Shop.
On the wall was an image of a jester with a donut and the following rhyme:

As you ramble on through life, brother,
Whatever be your goal,
Keep your eye upon the donut
And not upon the hole.

Armed with a cup of coffee, but no donut, I offer a few alternatives:

As you ramble on through life, brother,
Whatever be your tack,
Keep your eye upon the steam train
And not upon the track.

◊◊◊

As you ramble on through life, brother,
Whatever be your plan,
Keep your eye upon the dancer
And not upon the fan.

◊◊◊

As you ramble on through life, brother,
Whatever be your wish,
Keep your eye upon the fish-hook
And not upon the fish.

◊◊◊

As you ramble on through life, brother,
Whatever be your aim,
Keep your eye upon enjoyment
And not upon the fame.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXIX - Peas

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Laura Jayne at Pictures, Poetry & Prose poses a daily writing challenge.

The prompt for this poem was “Peas”. I should point out that I do like peas.

Peas

Peas sit in their pods
Like commuters on a train.
They rattle round the sink
Before rolling down the drain.

Peas are very pretty,
They are, well, pea-green little balls;
Flick them out the window,
Or bounce them off the walls.

Peas are little bullets,
A veggie like no other;
You can drop them on the cat
Or shoot them at your brother.

Peas are most forgiving
No matter how you treat them;
Some folk love to mash them,
Some will even eat them.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXVIII - Instant Gratification

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Instant Gratification

It’s brown and wet and hot,
And delivers caffeine on request,
But as far as daily coffee goes,
Instant’s far from best.

It clearly is what coffee aint,
But our life is one of haste.
What you gain in time and cost,
You lose in smell and taste.

But best is often out of reach
And we settle for a quickie.
Chasing perfection is well and good
But juggling life is tricky.

When the day is in decline,
And there is time for you to pour it,
We can take the genuine thing
And feel all the better for it.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CXXVII - Goods & Chattels

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Goods & Chattels

Some men are totally blind
To the pleasures of woman-kind;
While perfectly able
To be a side table,
There are far better uses, I find.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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