Friday Poetry Corner

[Clownio]

There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But they're ever so small
That's why rain is thin


S. Milligan.

[Jabberwocky]

Clown in the Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

[AlfredJPruffock]

I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold

Aye WS

Reminds me of the old joke about the guy from Glasgow who hears that the streets of London are pathed with Gold.

So he gets the train from Glasgow to Euston and just as he is walking out the station , he spies a 20 quid note.

Bending over to pick up the note he stops looks at the 20 quid note and says to himself , " Na, I cannae be bothered right noo , I will start tomorrow instead...''

[WageSlave]

The Wanderer

I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold
Lifted some stones
Saw the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky
Where the ground won't turn
And the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye


Yeah I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering


I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin
Where men can't walk
Or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens like to sit
They say they want the kingdom
But they don't want God in it


I went out riding
Down that old eight lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name


I went with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you


I went out there
In search of experience
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can
Before he repents


I went out searching
Looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break
Who would sit at his father's right hand
I went out walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one
Now Jesus, don't you wait up
Jesus, I'll be home soon
Yeah I went out for the papers
Told her I'd be back by noon


Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you


Yeah I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering

[AlfredJPruffock]

Oi !!! JC .... I ought to report you to the Gnome office !

Havent you got a gmome to go home to JC ???

Ha Ha ha hee hee hee !!!



I was walking down the High Street
When I heard footsteps behind me

And there was a little old man (Hello)
In scarlet and grey, shuffling away (laughter)

Well he trotted back to my house
And he sat beside the telly (Oaah..)
With his tiny hands on his tummy
Chuckling away, laughing all day (laughter)

Oh, I ought to report you to the Gnome office
(Gnome Office)

Yes
(Hahahahaha)


Ha ha ha, hee hee hee
"I'm a laughing Gnome and you can't catch me"
Ha ha ha, hee hee hee
"I'm a laughing Gnome and you can't catch me"
Said the laughing Gnome


Well I gave him roasted toadstools and a glass of dandelion wine (Burp, pardon)

Then I put him on a train to Eastbourne
Carried his bag and gave him a fag

(Haven't you got a light boy?)
"Here, where do you come from?"
(Gnome-man's land, hahihihi)

"Oh, really?"

In the morning when I woke up
He was sitting on the edge of my bed

With his brother whose name was Fred
He'd bought him along to sing me a song

Right, let's hear it
Here, what's that clicking noise?
(That's Fred, he's a "metrognome", haha)


(Own up, I'm a gnome, ain't I right, haha)

"Haven't you got an 'ome to go to?"

(No, we're gnomads)

"Didn't they teach you to get your hair cut at school?
you look like a rolling gnome."
(No, not at the London School of Ecognomics)

Now they're staying up the chimney
And we're living on caviar and honey (hooray!)

Cause they're earning me lots of money
Writing comedy prose for radio shows

It's the-er (what?)
It's the Gnome service of course

Ha ha ha, hee hee hee
"I'm a laughing Gnome and you don't catch me"
Ha ha ha, oh, dear me

[The Late, Great JC]

Wilfrid is a garden gnome
Who lives near to Brian Parsons home
And never has been known to roam
From where he’s situated.

When Brian learns his lines by heart
To try them out he has to start
-So Wilfrid plays the other part
-And gets Initiated !

For all his patience he is praised
If you could know, you’d be amazed
How often he is “passed” and “raised”
-With words he’s saturated.

His faithfulness : Some prize must rate
Perhaps a rise to higher state
As “Past Provincial Candidate” ?
He would be most elated !

So, should you pass a garden fair
And see a wise gnome sitting there
Who does Provincial Apron wear –
Its Wilfrid – decorated !

[Homer Simpson]

"The code of the schoolyard, Marge!
The rules that teach a boy to be a man.
Let's see.
Don't tattle.
Always make fun of those different from you.
Never say anything,
unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way you do."

[AlfredJPruffock]

Good selection Chico,great poet visionary and mystic Mr Blake, he used to see Angels in his garden, Ive also seen an Angel before , there bet that surprised you Chico ?

But its true.

Anyway continuing on the Blake theme I do like the Spring song, this was sung By jon Anderson (of the old band Yes) some years ago and a lovely ditty it is too.



Spring Song (from Songs of Innocence and Experience)






Sound the flute!
Now it's mute!

Birds delight,
Day and night

Nightingale,
In the dale,
Lark in sky, -

Merrily,
Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

Little boy,
Full of joy

Little girl,
Sweet and small;

Cock does crow,
So do you;

Merry voice,
Infant noise;

Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

Little lamb,
Here I am

Come and lick
My white neck;

Let me pull
Your soft wool;

Let me kiss
Your soft face;

Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year.

[Chico]

London

I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse

William Blake