CCCXCVII - The Birthing Day

We all celebrate our birthdays.

But do we celebrate the women who were there too?

The Birthing Day

Mothers recall it very well

The pain, the joy, the feel, the smell

Of all the times when they gave birth

And received a child (and lost their girth).

So much joy from a day of hell:

The need to push.  Or not.  Or yell.

Rewarded more than they can tell.

When nightfall drapes across the earth,

Mothers recall.

On the date that this blessing fell

Drinks and cakes weave a sticky spell.

The child delights in all the mirth

And milks the day for all its worth.

Watching with a pride that none can quell,

Mothers recall.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCVI - Spherically Impeded

Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

The actual first line given was "A man who was rather a nut…"

but, working with the rule that the sentence may be altered

as long as the rhyming word must remain unchanged, I came up with this:

A fellow with only one nut

Made movies (plain wrapped and uncut).

The reason he succeeded

While spherically impeded

Was he had the most beautiful butt.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCV - Taurus, of course.

Taurus, of course.

All the stars except, oddly, the closest,

Will, I'm told, impact on our daily grind.

While the universe is an amazing place:

Is this really how it was designed?

Why should some distant lump of rock,

Or flaming star in the vast abyss,

Influence the choices of my life:

What to eat, where to work or who to kiss?

The followers of this pseudo science

At best are vague and ooze crackpottery:

And I’ve yet to see that banner headline:

“Astrologer wins the national lottery!”

I foolishly answered an email once

And now get regular, teasing billet doux:

“I know your future” the emails say

“Pay me money and I’ll share it with you!”

(Not to be confused which those Russian ladies

Who email they too will reveal all, for a reward)

It appears my psychic lady is not receiving 

My message that I consider that she’s a fraud.

As I see the papers print the daily horoscopes,

I can’t but sit and idly wonder:

If astrology has an ounce of truth:

What sign are all the sceptics born under?

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCIV - The Country Pub

This is not so much a poem as notes from a field trip.

The Country Pub

Wide streets, 

Wide verandahs, 

Decaying shops selling clothing and bric-a-brac from last century.  

Who but a farmer would buy a ceramic budgerigar? 

A pool of light spills from a doorway, onto the footpath.  

Stepping into the pool takes you through the doorway,

- into the Farmer’s Arms.

Noise.  White noise.  Blue noise.  Babble.

Farmers, families, friends, loners, transients, salesmen.

All ages. Together and yet apart.

Children play games with mobile phones:

small glowing  pools within a larger pool.

The dress-code is freestyle.  Dressed up.  Dressed down. 

Shorts, singlets, trousers and pressed check shirts.

Brylcream still has a market here.

Beer, more beer.  The drink of choice.  A cocktail list seems out of place.

Who here would drink a Margarita?  Who would order one?

Barmaids take orders, give cheek and stay behind the safety of the bar.

Big screens give flashing Technicolour sports highlights to a brownish room.

A notice board offers rabbit traps, dance lessons and a diesel pump, as new.

Large plates of basic food, nothing special but lots of it.

Parma and pot, the deal of the day.  And yesterday.  And tomorrow.

The roast of the day comes with roast vegetables.  And noodles.

Drowning in a clear brown, mucoid gravy.

A sullen cleaner takes away the empties.  No emotion.  No response.  

Mind elsewhere.  Where?  I wonder but don’t ask.

Walking home, passing through pools of noise and light,

spilling from other doorways onto the footpath.

Different pubs, 

Different people, 

Same gravy.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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Repost: Transports of Delight

dVerse prompts us to write a Villanelle.

Here's one I prepared earlier:

Transports of Delight

Gently they are rocking at evening rest,

Tarped in blue, moored for the night,

These romantic vessels of love finessed.

Coal black ferries to a town possessed;

Venetian transports of delight.

Gently they are rocking at evening rest.

Gondoliers, traditionally dressed

Sing songs of love, of passion bright,

On these romantic vessels of love finessed.

Young women doing what they do best,

Playing Princess to their kneeling knight.

Gently they are rocking at evening rest.

How many a girl has acquiesced

To heartfelt deliveries of a lover’s plight

On these romantic vessels of love finessed?

Sleek confidants to the mating rite —

(Can we, should we, will we...tonight?)

Gently they are rocking at evening rest

These romantic vessels of love finessed.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCIII - The Façade

Three Word Wednesday invites us to use

three nominated words in a written work.

This week the three words were 

‘dangle’, ‘labour’ and ‘neatly’. 

The Façade

Life is a sham and far from pure;

A terminal illness without a cure

(Four parts chaos and six parts bored).

Heaven is offered as a reward,

Dangled like an attractive cure,

To encourage us to endure

A life spent waist deep in manure;

Never mind what you can afford:

Life is a sham.

We labour on, to help ensure

That no-one sees we’re insecure.

The façade is there, the cracks ignored,

Neatly presented and not explored.

One thing of which you can be sure:

Life is a sham.

.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCII - Refined Limerick

Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

A girl who thought she was refined

Had her underwear made fur-lined.

Her breasts, round and pink,

Were nestled in mink

While sable embraced her behind.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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Repost: A Dream

A Dream

Reposted in memory of 

Elizabeth Roberts, 1915-2012.

I dreamt about a distant place,

All white, yet strangely warm;

Where all was elegance and grace:

There was presence but no form.

Into this quiet and peaceful scene

A man stepped into view;

Handsome, strong and cut quite clean.

A woman stood there, too.

He looked at her, and with a smile,

Remembered when they’d wed;

“I’m glad you’ve come. It’s been a while.”

“A friend sent me” she said.

Happy with the eons spanned

They embraced and gently kissed;

Then they turned, and hand in hand,

Slipped off into the mist.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2012

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CCCXCI - Remote and Detached

Three Word Wednesday asks us to write a piece using three nominated words.  

This week they are 'Miserable', 'Brisk' and 'Detached'.

My first haiku.

Please note that this is an exercise to use the three words.
It is NOT a psychological assessment!

Remote and detached,

Feeling quite miserable.

A brisk walk needed.

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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CCCXC - Night Hangs Heavy

Posted for Real Toads Open Link Monday

Night hangs heavy.

Night hangs heavy.

Beside me, rhythmic breathing.

Sensibly dressed, demure.  Asleep.

Spoons.  Nestled together.

My arms encase, finding their way to skin.

Words come and go in my mind.

The night passes.

Dawn.

A wattlebird chants matins:

Repent-repent-now-now-now

A tram grumbles distantly.

The passing car, a magpie,

Urgent steps, going somewhere.

Beside me, rhythmic breathing.

I wonder what she is dreaming about?

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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CCCLXXXIX - The Feud

Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

A man was involved in a  feud

And displayed a bad attitude:

And, though he protested,

The act he suggested

Is widely regarded as crude.

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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CCCLXXXVIII - Running Hot & Cold

Her thermostat was totally shot,

Swinging wildly between cold and hot.

Her husband, though caressing,

Had no way of guessing,

If he was responsible or not.

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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CCCLXXXVII - Six Thirty For Seven

dVerse prompts us to write on some aspect of food.

Here is an offering about a dinner party.

All comments are ficticious.  I don't even have a cat.

Six Thirty For Seven

Oh darling!  So lovely to see you!

Do come in!  Here, let me take that.

Now, who can I introduce you to?

Just put them over there.  Ignore the cat.

…Tell me, what would you like to drink?

…He’s out playing with the barbecue

…Never mind, there’s a cloth over by the sink

…Hi!  I’m in banking, what do you do?

…This dip is absolutely delicious!

…Of course it’s true, it was on the news

…I thought he was needlessly vicious

…Tell me where you bought those shoes!

…Opinion polls are always skewed

…The umpire’s decision cost us the game

…No salad for him – he calls it ‘rabbit food’

…Now she’s left, the show's just not the same

…I think the whole system’s on the nose

…I’m the same size as on my wedding day

…There’s always next year, I suppose

…Can you pass the dressing down this way?

…Oh, that cake is superb, it’s just divine!

…We must see the war through to the end

…Nothing in a box should be labelled wine

…Talkback hosts are expected to offend

…Things are clearly rotten at the top

…Did you see they’ve made a mechanical cow?

…Some friends took me to a sex shop

…Would anyone like a coffee now?

…I wasn’t really asking your advice

…That is a really unusual ring tone

…Those chocolates are far, far too nice

…Look at the time!  The night has flown!

The folk depart with well-meant wishes,

Things in the house return to norm;

The dishwasher battles with the dishes.

And the cat is sleeping, somewhere warm.

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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CCCLXXXVI - The Emperor's Clothes

Three Word Wednesday asks us to write a piece using three nominated words.  

This week they are 'ripe', 'dignity' and 'lacerate'.

The Emperor's Clothes

Fooling no-one, seen as lewd,

Considered strange and rather crude;

Do you think the crowds are blind

To the delusions of your mind?

That they will not quickly conclude

That you are ripe for being screwed?

That you have now become unglued? 

You are, sadly, you will find,

Fooling no-one.

Your character is harshly viewed

And your dignity, exposed and nude,

Is lacerated and assigned

To be mocked by the unkind.

You are, we must sadly conclude,

Fooling no-one.

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© 2012   J Cosmo Newbery

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