CCXXXV - Captivated

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Sunday Scribblings had a topic 'Captivate'.


Captivated

He loved her with a passion
That few could understand.
Such love is out of fashion,
It’s often even banned.

He loved her sparkling eyes,
He loved the way she sits,
He loved her inner thighs
And her pretty pinkish bits.

Her skin was smooth as plaster,
Her hair was golden-tressed,
He never thought to ask her
If he could watch as she undressed.

Did she know she had this beau?
That’s far from being certain
But the heartless little so-and-so
Turned and pulled the curtain.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXXIV - In the mourning.

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Loss".


In the mourning.

You won me over when we met;
Your silver tongue and golden speech
Filled me with hope, a sense that change
Was really there, within our reach.

But now in the cold and morning light,
I see that it was but lust
And not providing a warm embrace
As a loving engagement must.

Two years on and we have more wars
And Guantanamo is still supported,
Bradley rots in a solitary cell
And cluster bombs are still exported.

Desire was there for better times
But moral issues have been evaded.
Israel continues to flout the law
And sovereign countries have been invaded.

My eyes are open to what I’ve lost,
It’s tomorrow and reality is dawning;
In black, I regret what could have been
And I don’t respect you, in the mourning.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXXIII - Show Some Care

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Straw".
I had an urge to do a villanelle, a fairly structured poetic form.


Show Some Care

My back will break beneath the weight,
If you do not show some care;
Stop now, before it is too late.

The ‘things to do’ do not abate
But come to me, as I am there;
My back will break beneath the weight.

What does it matter to miss a date?
Better that than not even there.
Stop now, before it is too late.

Tasks are assigned without debate
And make me wish I wasn’t there:
My back will break beneath the weight

Why rush as a bull towards a gate?
Far better to think, be aware;
Stop now, before it is too late.

As the camel said “Don’t you dare
Put another straw up there.
My back will break beneath the weight
Stop now, before it is too late.”

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXXII - The Morning Light

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Magpie Tales had the above photo as a prompt.
I felt it deserved a rondeau.


The Morning Light

The morning light, like liquid gold,
Runs down the valley, to enfold
The field and farms and those within;
As thick as treacle, sweet as sin.
The sleepers wake and loath unfold,
To stretch and slow release their hold
Of night time lovers, young and old,
And rise, as dreaming, to step in
The morning light.

With inner warmth against the cold
They know how nature’s joy is told
The love of life is in their skin
A day must end and then begin
To greet once more thus behold
The morning light.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXXI - The Green Grassy Patch

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The Green Grassy Patch

The forests are a shady and welcoming place
With glens and secretive clearings.
The green velvet looks
Of these grass-filled nooks
Make the woods all the more endearing,
Endearing,
Make the woods all the more endearing.

Deep in these woods, the birds would sing
Songs of the eggs they would hatch.
They would twitter above as
Some lust filled lovers
Looked for the perfect patch
Perfect patch
As they looked for the perfect patch.

They found a clearing away from the path,
Where no-one they felt would pass.
All that was left
When they redressed
Was an imprint of her bum in the grass,
In the grass,
Was in imprint of her bum in the grass.

Now, the birds of course had seen it before
This couple were far from the first.
But they sensed in the duet
That an egg had been set
They swelled with a pride that could burst
Could burst,
Swelled with a pride that could burst.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXX - A Three-way Hitch

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Sunday Scribblings had a topic 'Hitch'.
Now, there are a number of possible meanings...

Three-way Hitch

A girl in the Shire,
Fancied the squire,
But, a hitch! He didn't want to date her.

So the little flirt
Hitched up her skirt
And encouraged his lordship to mate her.

He swears he declined
To be so entwined
But they were hitched a few months later.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXIX - Banana Risotto

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I was in Sydney a while ago and I swear I heard someone say ‘Banana Risotto’.
I looked up and it was two ladies, obviously talking in a foreign language.
It was just a coincidental sound alike. That grew into the following:
Banana Risotto.

Sardine doughnuts,
Frog filled snow huts,
Tree-lined pancakes,
Cross-eyed leaf rakes,
Purple ear-wax,
Strawberry thumbtacks,
Wooden lamb chops,
Caustic pet shops,
Rubber wombats,
Yoghurt hardhats,
Ginger shirtsleeves,
Grubby tea leaves,
Copper toupees,
Salty zoo days,
Orange birdcalls,
Feather words stalls,
Tit elation,
Mistranslation ,
Consternation.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Oh, the photo? Well, If you knew sushi, that way that I know sushi...

...

CCXXVIII - More Pete, more feet.

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While we are on Pete and his feet, Magpie Tales
had the above picture as a prompt.

There once was a mollusc, named Pete,
Whose stomach doubled up as his feet.
When the meal was quite grand
He could no longer stand
And had to look 'round for a seat.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXVII - Taking Stock

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Stock"

Taking Stock

There once was a cook known as Pete
Who made soups for royalty to eat.
The foundation rock
Was a really good stock
In which he had washed his feet.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXVI - Theatre

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Theatre"

Theatre

The world is full of action
With births and deaths and toil;
There’s people, fish and animals,
There’s water, wind and soil.

And as they go about their lives
In life’s maze of daily hedges,
I doubt they even notice me
Watching from the edges.

All the world’s a stage,
Said the Bard who said it all,
But I often feel I’m seated
In the back row of the stalls.

But don’t feel sorry for me,
In my dark, embracing hall;
The show I see before me
Continues to enthrall.

It’s just I do not feel
A member of the cast.
I’m just a curious bystander,
Watching them go past.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXV - The Mahdi's Socks

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The Mahdi’s Socks


There was a Mahdi who ruled in Khartoum,
And had a cushion in the middle of the room,
From here he would command
Vast tracts of his land
And did it quite well, I assume.

Chorus
Scimitars swing, like scimitars do,
Slicing infidels, two by two,
Khartoum high street, the fields of Sudan,
The people all shout “the Mahdi’s our man”.

Foreign armies he knew how to handle
And ruled with an absence of scandals
But he caused regular dismay
To the press of the day
By wearing socks as well as his sandals.

Chorus

He was a fighter and answered that calling,
And the British received quite a mauling.
But as Gordon had said
Before losing his head,
(Pucker) He knows how to fight but his style is quite appalling.

Chorus

But while victories kept upping his stocks
The people still worshiped his socks,
“We prefer battle glory
To a social page story;
We don’t care if his fashion sense shocks..

Chorus.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXIV - The Day That William Wed His Kate

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The Day That William Wed His Kate

It started early and finished late:
Coverage of the pathway to their fate,
With breathless stories of secret courting,
The day that William wed his Kate.

It was like a free hit for the fourth estate,
The media revelled in the wedding fete.
There was no other news worth reporting
The day that William wed his Kate.

There was no mention of climate debate
Nor the nasty moves of the tectonic plates,
Neither got the coverage that they deserved
The day that William wed his Kate.

Nor did the bids to kill heads of state
Supported, of course, with UN mandates,
And there was no word about oil reserves,
The day that William wed his Kate.

Yet millions of poor, condemned by fate,
Struggled to put some food on their plate.
The world was in a sorry mess,
The day that William wed his Kate.

But none of this could be equated
To the eager tension of those who waited.
All eyes were focussed on ‘that dress’,
The day that William wed his Kate.

The social columns were quick to relate
The lines of succession traditions dictate,
They were even trying to name the kids,
The day that William bed his Kate.

They entered the palace and closed the gate
A life in a glasshouse lay in wait,
I wouldn’t swap with them for quids,
The day that William wed his Kate.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXIII - The Watcher

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Theme Thursday's theme last Thursday was "television".


The Watcher

I stayed at a hotel recently;
It had all the normal stuff
One needs to be quite comfortable,
No sense in living rough.

In the centre of the room,
On a cabinet of it’s own,
Was an enormous television,
With a remote beside the phone.

A brochure proudly told me
Of the shows of every kind
That I had the chance to choose between,
If feeling so inclined.

Four days later, as I packed my things,
Preparing to move on,
It stood there black and sulking
As I had never turned it on.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXII - Ova done

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Magpie Tales had the above picture as a prompt.
I had a few ideas...


Ova done.

Oh, proteinaceous yellow goo,
The natural friend of wholemeal toast,
The white, of course, has merit too
But it is the runny yolk I like the most.

◊◊◊

Wanting reasons, mankind is cursed,
To ponder how some things begin.
But neither the chicken nor egg came first,
It was the rooster, with the cocky grin.

◊◊◊

Hope was in the young lad dawning;
Assuming acquiescence, he asked by and by –
“How do you like you eggs in the morning?”
“Unfertilised” was the curt reply.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXXI - Three Little Words

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Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were cleanse, knead and melt.


Three little words

The bath, the oils, the fire in place,
The music, the candles, the private space;
The delightful charms, seen and felt:
To cleanse, to knead, to slowly melt
Into the arms of a lover’s embrace.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXX - Misplaced Infusiasm

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Tea"


Misplaced Infusiasm

Tea drinkers are a diverse lot:
Jigglers, danglers and ceramic pots.
Some love to stew
Their herbal brew
While others would definitely not.

Some opt for China cups with class,
While others sip it from a glass.
There’s a profusion
Of different infusions,
The majority tasting like grass.

The purveyors of the dried leaf
Instil in their followers a belief
That the polyphenolics
Will make the tea-oholic’s
Stay on this planet quite long, not brief.

Thus buoyed with herbal enthusiasm
For their drug’s medicinal infusiasm
They look rather silly
As they gild the lily
And just add to the dietary confusiasm.

With a certainty that usually rankles
We are told, tea when drunk by the tank’ll,
Cure all known ills,
The pox and the chills,
And the spots that appear on your ankles.

Tea drinking has many who employ it
And, as a ritual, I’ve no wish to destroy it.
There’s a reason, I agree,
For partaking in tea:
You do it because you enjoy it.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXIX - A sonnet to a brilliant mind

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Australian Mensa has a poetry competition going at the moment.
The topic is 'Brilliance'. I probably wont submit this poem.


A sonnet to a brilliant mind.

There was no doubt that he was smart,
He clearly knew a thing or two.
He recited Latin off by heart
And knew the physics of the letter mu.

But our hero had a fatal trait,
Too common in those quite bright:
In finding fault and setting it straight,
Brilliance throws an unkind light.

He loved to take the pedant’s role
And publicly skewer the defenceless:
It got too much for one poor soul
Who turned and beat him senseless.

So now, beneath the daisies, in the danky peat
He instructs the little earthworms on the proper way to eat.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXVIII - It is quite large.

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Theme Thursday had a topic of "Space".
Sunday Scribblings had a topic of "Big".
This post is a collision of the two.
It started life as a rondeau but morphed due to rhyming issues.

It is quite large.

There is no doubt, it is quite large
And no-one seems to be in charge
Of this condensed cosmic place,
Hurtling through the depths of space.
They cannot even tell it’s shape,
Donut, disc or endless tape,
And that’s not for want of trying
But, of one thing, there’s no denying,
It is quite large.

In a contrary tale, somewhat taller
The world, I’m told, is getting smaller.
Yes, I’m sceptical, but that ain’t it:
I just wouldn’t want to have to paint it;
It is quite large.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXVII - All that glistens

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Been on the receiving end of a few senior management types recently;
the types who think that, because something looks good on a spreadsheet, it is good.
Even if the goals are contradictory.

All that Glistens

"We have a job for you:
We’re sure that you’re the man
To bring together opposites,
And on budget, if you can."

"We know it sounds impossible,
Combining scissors paper rocks,
But you can make it happen
If you think outside the box."

Oh, spare me from the platitudes
That stifle all debates,
Nothing is impossible
To the man who delegates.

The task, it is more difficult,
Far harder than he thinks;
A dead herring gleams in moonlight
But even so, it stinks.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXVI - Pleasures of the flesh.

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Pleasures of the Flesh

Alone in a hotel,
Far from home,
It’s common for passions,
Repressed, to roam.
Pleasures not often
Dished up at night
Tempt the traveller
With rare delights.
The heart has doubts
But the body has fewer
And readily succumbs
To this fleshy lure.
Temptation and doubt,
Each other derided,
But the conclusion
Was rather quickly decided:
I bought a pleasure,
Paid with cash,
Crumbed lamb cutlets,
Served with mash.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXV - A Cheeky Little Read

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Celia, at Fig Jam and Lime Cordial, asked us to say
what our favorite thing to read was.
Well, that's a given, surely!

A cheeky little read.

You can take your historic novels,
You can take your Mills & Boons
You can take your daily papers
With their dramas and cartoons.

Who cares who killed the Mocking Bird?
Or where lives the Great White Whale?
Or what shade of green the valley was?
Or how to cook with Tuscan kale?

Get rid of all that printed junk,
Piled up on coffee tables,
If you really want a gripping tale
You can’t go past wine labels.

There’s bountiful types of berries,
There’s the chocolate-melon discourse,
There’s the mystery of the sweaty saddle
When there’s no mention of a horse.

The labels tell an exciting tale
Of fine vintners and their must;
Afterwards you can drink the wine,
While books just gather dust.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXIV - The Judas Goat

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A friend and colleague has recently been told that he will be made redundant. But not yet.
In the mean time he must do nothing to startle the flock, keeping them happy and productive.

A ‘Judas Goat’ is a goat used at abattoirs to lead the sheep calmly to their death.

The Judas Goat

The Boss
I have to say, I’m sad to relate
We’re moving your job interstate.
But don’t feel sad or even blue,
Other will go as well as you.
Now, please go keep the place in order
Until we move across the border.

Chorus
He’s a Judas Goat and he has a way
Of making sheep think he’s okay.
He keeps them calm,
He soothes their nerves
And sees they’re fed and watered.
Then he takes his little flock of sheep
And leads them to be slaughtered.

The Boss
Please hang on, don’t run away
We need you to make the others stay.
We don’t want them making tracks
Until we’re ready to swing the axe.
And just to show you have our backing
We let you do the nasty sacking.

Chorus
He’s a Judas Goat and he has a way
Of making sheep think he’s okay.
He keeps them calm,
He soothes their nerves
And sees they’re fed and watered.
Then he takes his little flock of sheep
And leads them to be slaughtered.

The Boss
To try to make the whole thing fun
We’ll give you a bonus when it’s done.
Calling it ‘thirty pieces’ is rather rough,
We know redundancy can be tough,
We just want to show you that we care…

...you want me to put my money where?

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXIII - In Praise of Killing Cats

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Sunday Scribblings has a topic today called 'Curious'.

In Praise of Killing Cats

I wont win the hearts of the pussiphiles,
Those lovers of all things kitty and catty;
Like scratching posts of carpet scraps,
I’ll find myself shredded and tatty.

But someone must say what needs to be said:
Our survival is a cause for despairing.
Children are masters of asking ‘why?’
But us adults have given up caring.

T’was curiosity that drove the great minds
To explore and to paint and discover.
Science presents as a loyal spouse
But, ever tempting, curiosity is your lover.

We must embrace curiosity passionately,
For the future will not be forgiving.
And, if we lose a cat or two along the way,
It’s not too high a price for living.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXII - Joyce Kilmer addresses a tomato...

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Sir Percy, as is his want, started a Tomato poem competition.
Here is an entry. There may be more...

Joyce Kilmer addresses a tomato…

I think that I shall never eat
A poem as a lunchtime treat.

A treat on whom my mouth is prest:
The tomato’s great (though second best).

A treat that’s filled with liquid sun,
When gently bitten, warm juices run.

A treat that slakes a summer’s thirst
(If the bird’s not found it first).

Upon whose flesh some salt is spread
And eaten with some crusty bread.

Poems are made by fools like me
But tomatoes are on toast for tea.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCXI - A Lady addresses a tomato...

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Sir Percy, as is his want, started a Tomato poem competition.
Here is an entry. There may be more...


A Lady addresses a tomato...

Lovely tomato, to you I accede,
Let nothing consummation impede.
A gentle nibble on your cheek,
I tremble to your smooth physique...
Oh dear, it seems you've spilled your seed!

---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCX - The Secret

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Secret"


The Secret

“Can I tell you a little secret?”
Oh, please don’t ask me that;
Am I expected to keep it a secret,
Safely beneath my hat?

A friend, let’s call her Maggie,
Relays secrets with great glee,
She says a secret stays a secret
If you tell no more than three.

She just loves to pass on secrets,
They’re a source of joy to her,
But she is far less understanding
If you spread some dirt on her.

Some people love the juicy gossip
Shared across a wall
But if you have some little secret
Please, don’t tell me at all.
---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCIX- Regrets

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Regrets

When I am breathing my last,
Metered by things that ‘ping’,
With nurses pillowing up my head
And a teary family in a ring,

I wonder if I will have regrets about
The things I’ve filled my time?
Will I wish I’d learn to swim
Or written poems that didn’t rhyme?

Will I wish I’d eaten Brussels’ Sprouts
More frequently than I do?
Or wish I’d spent a little time
And learned to dance a step or two?

Will I wish I’d worked for longer hours
Or more weekends or nights?
Or wish I’d watched more daytime TV
Or attended boxing fights?

No, I’m sure there are some things
That will never be resented;
But not every call was a clear one
And you play the cards presented.

Hindsight is most hurtful thing,
A critic without care.
All choices I made were the right ones,
As I was actually there.

All I can do is minimize
The regrets of looking back,
As the line becomes a flat one
And the memory fades to black.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCVII - Little Red Riding Hood

Charles Perrault, the earliest known writer of Little Red Riding Hood,
explained the 'moral' at the end so that no doubt is left to his intended meaning:

From this story one learns that children, especially young lasses, pretty, courteous and well-bred, do very wrong to listen to strangers, And it is not an unheard thing if the Wolf is thereby provided with his dinner. I say Wolf, for all wolves are not of the same sort; there is one kind with an amenable disposition — neither noisy, nor hateful, nor angry, but tame, obliging and gentle, following the young maids in the streets, even into their homes.

Alas! Who does not know that these gentle wolves are of all such creatures the most dangerous!

Time to return to the original.
In verse, of course.


Little Red Riding Hood.

This is the tale of Red Riding Hood,
A little girl, so trusting and good;
She was pretty, she was sweet,
The nicest girl you ever could meet.

Her hair was golden, like ripened corn,
The sun shone from her, as from the dawn.
Admiring glances on her would linger
And she had her Granny wrapped ‘round her finger.

She often skipped through the woods
To visit Granny with a basket of goods.
The woodcutters told her to be alert
As wolves would be attracted to her skirt.

But, unconcerned, she tripped along
Singing a sweet little skipping song.
But, true enough, a wolf was lurking,
Watching her pass and evilly smirking.

Wolves are cunning and know shortcuts
Through the woods to Grandma’s huts.
The wolf barged in, intentions shady,
And was quick up and upon the lady.

He threw the remains into the shed
And clambered into the old dear’s bed
Just as Riding Hood knocked and entered.
As normal, the room was lavender scented.

But as she approached the Granny’s bed
Some questions were forming in the little girl's head.
“Granny, you’re tense, why aren't you relaxing?
And I think you are overdue for waxing!”

The wolf to stop her from retreating
Quickly threw off all the sheeting.
“Now”, he cried “There’s nothing between us!”
“Granny!” she shrieked “You’ve got a penis!”

And now we come to the tragic bit,
A wolf is a wolf and life is a shit,
And the hairy beast had it’s wicked way.
No woodcutters came to save this day.

There are do-gooders who, scared of offending,
Love to tack on a happy ending;
But morality tales should maintain their gory
Or risk losing the point of the tragic story.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery

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CCVII - Emotional Food

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Write about a food that gives you a specific emotional response."
A limerick seems to be a good idea for something a bit risqué...


Emotional Food

There are many foods that emotionally sweeten
And make you feel good when they’re eaten;
But, for the food that permits
The best emotional hits,
Chocolate body-paint cannot be beaten.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCVI - Not the full story

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I know of two folk, one family, one work, who ran off to be with someone that they met on-line.
Or thought they met of line. Sometimes you don't get the full story.


Not the full story.

Romeo
But soft! What sound from yonder PC beeps?
It is an email! My darling Jools has written!
It’s love poem, full of the sweetest words!
Oh, I swoon, with the heartache of the smitten.

Narrator
Look at him, dear reader, the poor fool
Is besotted by a woman who isn’t even there.
In his mind she lives, a peaches and cream concoction
With flowing long red hair.
She has legs that reach her armpits
And always wears white gloves.
Angels sing wherever she sits
And she’s attended to by doves.

Romeo
Oh, my head and heart are throbbing
and I’m losing all perspective;
A very different throb engulfs my loins
And it’s hard to remain objective.
O Jools, my dearest darling!
The angel of my nightly dream;
I long to clutch you to me
With nothing in between!

Narrator
Oh, if he could see her sitting there
In dressing gown and pink slippers,
She has an over abundance of body hair
And her breath is edged with kippers.
Her hair is done up in curlers,
There’s a tattoo on each breast,
One is a portrait of her first boyfriend,
The other, a group shot of the rest.

But time, dear friends, for a reality check,
Both sides are damaged stock.
Romeo is a bit loose with the truth
And Jools is in for a shock.
He said he carried a six-pack
And she dreamed of rippling abs
But the guy is just a truckie
With an overload of flab.
He works in a sweat-stained singlet
And trucks beer from place to place;
But at night he puts on lipstick,
High heels and black French lace.
He’s had a few relationships
But none of them took anchor;
Well, there was a goat called Suzie,
But she left him for a banker.

I can’t but dread the future
For this pair of lusty dears.
It can’t but end in tragedy:
There’ll be weeping, there’ll be tears.

Jools
Romeo, Romeo, where for art thee?
We’re a match well made in heaven.
Come, let’s run away my love,
On a scale of one to ten, I think you are eleven.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCV - Tourists as Sheep

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Some people have more organised tours than others...


Tourists as Sheep

Carrying roses, they walk in a line,
Like sheep in a field, well crossed.
A plastic label displays their name,
In case the poor darlings get lost.

Orchestrated to the minute,
The group disappears afar.
Sipping beer from the side lines
I gently murmur ‘Baaa!’


---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCIV - The Buffet of Pigs Invasion

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Buffets bring out the worst in people.


The Buffet of Pigs Invasion

In my mind I hear the voice over
Presented, in hushed and expectant tones,
A monologue on the tourist
As they migrate from their temporary homes.

“Look!” the voice is heard saying,
“Here they come! The herd in underway.
See how they traverse the forecourt
As they seek the nightly buffet!”

“See them lay claim to a table
Then dart off to scour the displays,
Circling around the all offerings
To find the picks of the day.

‘Everything looks so good’ they say
And pile it on their plate.
One can only hope that if they keep it up
They’ll be too fat to mate.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCIII - The Round Ball

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The Round Ball

I thought, wrongly as it turns out,
That Castro’s island, blockaded and small
Would offer some protection
From the nonsense that is football.

“Where are you from?” the waiter asks.
My answer draws a look, half smirk half pity.
Obviously we are, in football terms,
Country kids, come to see the city.

But this to me is not a bad thing,
The sooner we’re are out, the better.
I have no time for the fretful press
With opinions, photos and letters.

Back home, I could see the headlines
As Rupert’s attack dogs would be let out:
Indignant, biting, vengeful;
And “Sack them all!” the pack will shout.

But late at night, down in the plaza,
Not far from our hotel room,
Happy kids kick a ball in the dust
As a band puts out a blues tune.

---
© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCII- Praise to the Yak.

.

We had an internal flight on a YAK 42 - the original white knuckle airline.


Praise to the Yak!

A yak is hairy, a yak is strong,
But a yak cannot fly for very long.
When a plane’s called a Yak, one wonders why
But who would have thought a jumbo could fly?

The Yak is a tribute to minimum specs,
The seats were all broken, the table’s Laminex.
The engines were rusty, in need of a fix
The hostess bit the heads of day old chicks.

The Yak is a plane, extremely Russian,
What it lacks in finesse, it makes up in percussion.
But everything worked or, at least, didn’t fail
And I lived to pass on the tale.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CCI - Puppies of the Caribbean II

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I was impressed, mentally but alas not physically, with the number of big breasted women about.
I seem to recall a UK television show where the hostess referred to her breasts as 'the puppies.
It was unclear as to whether this post should accompany the original Puppies of the Caribbean
or the previous post on Boobies. The Burns reference is to his Selkirk Grace.


Puppies of the Caribbean II

As she approaches, her assets wobble,
Like puppies under a blanket.
I glance briefly, avoiding a stare,
And, like Burns, quietly whisper ‘Thankit.’

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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CC - Puppies of the Caribbean

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There was a tennis tournament being held at our hotel.
Lot's of sour-faced children and anxious parents.


Puppies of the Caribbean

Obnoxious, snotty little brats,
Taking in their coach’s story;
They work the minor circuits
And dream of tennis glory.

They’re told that they can ‘do it’,
They’re told that they’re the cream,
Then dragged around the traps
To live their parent’s dream.

Not mixing with us common folk,
They are sullen and seldom talk.
They seem a little puzzled
We don’t worship where they walk.

I’m sure they have the backhand
I’m sure they have the serve,
I hope the stuck up little darlings
Get all that they deserve.

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© J Cosmo Newbery
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