Willow's Workshop

Ugh!!...what a poetic and discriptive history DaffyD!

How can I respond in rhyme???

Hmmmm....I'm going to have ponder over that!

Pigs cannot fly that I know,
Rabbits hop quickly and turtles go slow.
Roosters crow loudly in the early morn
And in the spring lambs are born.
Cows in the barn are sleek and fat,
Sometimes they like to kick at the cat.
There are gardens to plant and cutting of hay,
Life on the farm is work, not play.

Sailing
(Part Three)



VENICE


Having slipped our moorings we set forth once more

This time we were headed for a very different shore.

In fact to the Lagoon of Venice in the Adriatic Sea

With its canals and bridges and 'one cornetto' just for me!

Sediments of sand and shale forced down rivers year on year

Formed 118 tiny islands about which no one had a care.

For Grado and Aquileia were the main cities of the day

Inhabited by the Romans who had no interest in the bay.



In centuries five and six barbarians did invade

And the Veneti, (inhabitants of those cities) to escape the raid

Were forced to seek refuge on those islands the rivers made.



Slowly the various settlements united

Though still retaining the 'Roman' look

Elected themselves a ruler a non- hereditary dodge, or duke.

Anxious to be free from Rome they sought allies new

Byzantines helped them fight off many a motely crew.

Saracens, Normans, pirates, from all quarters came

But the Veneti and Byzantines proved that they were game.



They achieved domination of the Adriatic

From those islands in the lagoon

And with superhuman effort built their city, none too soon.



For the real break came in 1202 Frankish armies asked for her aid

To ship the Frankish army to fight in the Fourth Crusade.

Thus Venice made her fortune with strategic toeholds in the East

The sacking of Constantinople was the main dish of that feast.

Alas it was to be her undoing as the Turks ran wild and free

Capturing that city in 1453



The Turks marched on through Yugoslavia to Vienna's very gate

The defence of Venice was robust, but they had left it very late.

Venice then lost her dependencies, squabbled with all around

And fell to Napoleon, without a wimper, without a sound.

The last doge was deposed by Napoleon Bonaparte

The new future for Venice was about to start.



In conclusion may I say a word about the Bridge of Sighs

Reasons for such a name has confused the very wise

In fact it was the access from the palace courts into the cells

Where prisoners were to cross,and embrace their private hells

One last look at the outside world and the prisoner would sigh

Knowing that it would have to last, until the day he dies.

Oh DaffyD, you've travelled well
With venturous stories here to tell
Ne'er would I have ventured forth
Unto the seas that you report
But, my dearest love has ventured there
And you'd have many tales to share
With him, ...I'm sure!

So...I will recall your latest venture
To my loved one, and he'll remember
Reminisce when he was asea
All alone...his sails and he!
When he relates to me his story
I'm thankful that it's too late to worry
'Bout my fretful fears
Surely, I'd have aged by years!!

I'm happy that you're safe and sound
Standing firmly on our ground
Unable to be swept away
But able to return and say...
"Hello" at Senior Boomers' Forum"
Sure would sadden our decorum!!....
If your ventures....gobbled you up!! LOL!

No fear of that my dear old friend
My annual globe trotting is at an end
I'll miss the sun, the sea, and worse
I now suffer from that landlubber's curse
I've dropped anchor far from the shore
My sea-legs are gone, and what is more
Mobility restricted through muscle cramp
I cannot wander far from camp.

I'm on a medical merry-go-round
Visiting doctors until a cure is found
X-rays, scans and ECG's
Now keep me from sailing on the seven seas
Like an Albatross locked in a cage
I must accept the ravages, of age
Imprisoned in this shell of humanity
I am still blessed for my mind is free.

DaffyD..ne'er what's believed
Your fabled or historic stories
Sometimes sets my heart at worries
Is it real...or is it simply
DaffyD's playing with reality...
Must say, I love all the tales you tell
Wish that I could do as well!!!
Take care of your weathered limbs
Comes a time when ventures cease
But live through wonderous 'magination
Ughh!!! relive that young sensation!

My Olympiad

I'm really not into running
That is, not any more,
The only time I get involved
Is if my nose runs when it's sore.
Let's move along to jumping
I'm very good at that
You see I jump to conclusions
Alone here in my flat.

Then there is the shot-put
Now that's one I can do
In fact I got a medal for it
Throwing grenades, in '42
Boxing, now that's craftsman's game
I've made one or two of those.
Equestrian, the nearest I've been to horses
Has been when I'm drying clothes.

So you see I'm quite an armchair sportsman
Not bad for an old Granddad
Now that's the closest I will ever get
To hosting my own Olympiad!

Dear DaffyD...


Well I cheer you for whatever
Championships you've won!!
I love the way you've "writ" it
To tell us what you've done!!
I too have my fantasies
Of where I might have been....
But today, I'm only happy
For the twixt and in between!

Come back soon and continue your poetic topic here DaffyD!!

In my repose I have wondered thus
What is 'TRUTH' What's all the fuss
In my frustration I've exclaimed....STREUTH!
Tell me this.....

What is the Truth

Systems of belief and worship
Taught to me in my distant youth
Shows that truth has it's religion
And every religion has its truth.
What is it we are to believe
When science explodes each myth
That a smidgen of the truth remains
In the threads of each tallith?

Does the truth run through the bible?
Is there substance in these tales,
Or have we been brainwashed with religion,
Do we know where truth prevails?
For each truth has it's religion
And each religion has its truth.
I believe in the Spirit that resides within me
I believe in the Spirit of my youth.

Systems of belief or worship
Have been with us since our time began,
Introduced to control the people
Despite man's inhumanity to man.
For without such Spiritual deterrent
Social structure would wilt and die.
So if there's no truth in our religion,
Is all religion, just one big lie?

Wow!!....DaffyD...you boggle my mind!
I am reading your writings at 3 A.M. and I'm having difficulty absorbing your most profound and creative words!

I'll get back to this after my long-holiday weekend!

A Mirrored Thought


Staring past my forlorn image
I fell into my tear filled eyes,
Into pools of mysticism,
pools that hold and hypnotise.
Hypnotic scenes confuse my mind,
reflective thought then angers me,
Heavenly eyes are burning brightly,
yet being so blind I cannot see.

Then dark brown eyes encompass me
and warm me in a loving way
Those soft pools of life's reflection,
watching all I do and say.
Those mirrors of remembrance
those orbs of sheer delight
That gaze with love upon me
and watch over me at night.

At times they are full of sorrow,
expressing deep and lasting pain.
Then in a trice they're twinkling,
they are soft and brown again.
I reach out into that mirrored thought
for one more sweet caress
Causing ripples in my reflections,
loose the image, and find distress.

Even now my eyes are brimming
with tears that are tinged with salt
Windmill thoughts run through my mind,
at who's door lies the fault?

I've traced our life together
from the first day that we met
I've relived each loving moment
and yet and yet and yet,
I cannot find a reason
in any single day
Why God in His infinite mercy
Took my darling wife away.

A sweatheart and a mother
with a soul as pure as snow
Was tortured and disfigured,
it's the "WHY" I want to know.
She was the reason for my being,
the beacon of my day,
Without her I am flotsam,
with a lonely role to play.

Returning to the mirror
and the haggard image there
I note how deep the lines are etched,
the fast receding hair,
The puffiness neath dark rimmed eyes,
the pallor of the skin,
Scars of battles fought and lost,
a fight I could not win.

Exhausted and despondent
my body cries for sleep,
I try and rest my tired frame,
but can only lie and weep.
For lonely is this empty house,
and lonelier still my bed,
Even though I lie wherein
once lay my darling's head.

Even now my eyes are brimming
with tear that are tinged with salt
Windmill thoughts run through my mind,
at who's door lies the fault.

There is poetry in each one of us
Maybe not the written word
But in the rhythm that flows through our being
In a song that's not always heard
Not all of us are 'published' poets
But we have that rhythm in our soul
If we would but shed our fears
We could easily reach that goal.

Poetry is in its self a therapy
That frees restraints of the mind
It is boundless in its vastness
A bounty to mankind
Poetry is an inner echo
Of what your psyche would love to do
So do not doubt your 'poet's heart'
Let your visions come shining through.

Now in case you are having trouble understanding how your computer works I have arranged a simplification of the mysteries of computing......


http://www.davidburt.co.uk/poems/documents/ComputerClarification.wma

Come winter , when my time permits...
I'll challenge you and all your wits..
DaffyD!!!!
I love each word that here you write,
With summer's rush, I need respite
To sit a spell and contemplate
My summer's days and days of late
And then we'll rhyme..both head to head...
That is if I'm alive, not dead!

(Hmmm...who knows....as we approach the winter of our years! )

(P.S. dear DaffyD!! your "brogue" complicates your well appointed instructions!...but I will listen to it again and again! ((((hugs))) )


I'll leave you all a starting line..
About a gentleman so fine.....

'll leave you all a starting line..
About a gentleman so fine...Beau Brummel was his name.
Fancy dressing was his claim to fame
Made all the women swoon
Whenever he entered the room.
But then they found they were really amiss,
Cause he certainly didn't know how to kiss.
And all the women wish that they could meet ISH
They seem think he is quite a dish
I guess I'm just a kettle of fish.
But they don't know what is in my mind, if I get to kiss lovely Miss.
I'm not the type to kiss and run.
That would spoil all the fun
A lingering smooch is what I crave.
But I'm usually not that brave.
And reluctantly leave a tight embrace.
With a look of embarrassment on my face.
I was born 40 years to soon.
To publicly kiss under a silvery Moon.
But I've had my day
And can always say.
That I did it my way.

I tried to write a poem once
I typed it, it was much neater
No matter how hard I tried
I lost both rhyme and metre
Apparently there is a certain beat
That one must adhere to
I rambled on without a thought
As I have done afore hereto.

Prose now, that's another thing
Descriptive passages that flow
Abstract meandering in flowery tracts
With adjectives, row after row.
Poetry floats like a summer zephyr
Lightly on the breeze
With rhyme and rhythm and an easy beat
That does the reader.......please!

This is what I call inspired poetry..... one day.... yes one day... I may get somewhere near it.......

TREES
by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by people like me,
But only God can make a tree.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud/

Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of earth.



http://www.skygod.com/quotes/highflight.html

On the funnier side of flying

http://www.skygod.com/quotes/flyingjokes.html#high

DaffyD and Wuzfuz....and everyone!


For now...my rhyming mind is dead..
I'll read your poetry instead
And your lines of prose..
I love them all
But is it summer..is it fall
Here with our most balmy temps
My mind is stalled 'til winter clamps
It's grasp upon my boney bod...
Come then..I'll give ya' each a nod.

(and hugs and more of my ramblings!! )

PAINT A THOUGHT

I want you to paint a picture with these words I to you tell. Paint it with imagination so that it holds you in its spell. Paint these words upon a canvas, the canvas of your mind. Let your thoughts wash through it’s colours, enjoy the warmth that you will find.

For these words are of the Autumn, of the Browns, the Reds, the Gold, observe the miracle of Nature as the season does unfold. The varied Greens of forest canopies, the trampled edge of a lake land shore. The deer as they stoop to water there, fills one’s soul with silent awe.
Paint upon your canvas, that canvas of your mind with the Orange of a sunset and accompanying hues of myriad kind. Contemplate that picture, take in the serenity, the peace and when under stress recall the scene, feel the tension ebb, then cease.
For control of your emotions is entirely within your grasp, just close your eyes and paint a thought and to your soul that thought enclasp. Let the peace that such thoughts bring you calm the psyche, soothe your mind. Let Nature and its beauty help your tortured soul unwind.

Your poetic inspiration is profound...DaffyD....
But for now.... a "Hello" would be most inspiring!
The picture that you paint is beautiful...but for now I've layed my pallette down!
My brushes .....upstanding...are idle...as is my imagination.
Do continue to inspire me...Daffy D and Wuzfuz and my poetic friends!

Paint and poetically write to your heart's content!

I just love my creative friends!

Willows

THE PASSING OF A NIGHT

The deep dark velvet cloak of night
Is coaxed gentle from the room
By dawn’s bright and searching fingers
Spreading silently in the gloom.
Illuminating corners with the light
Of yet another day,
Lifting the veils of darkness
In a firm, persistent way.
Painting with a silent brush
The morning’s colours on the wall,
The Sun having prepared this wondrous stage
Awaits the wakening of us all.
A brilliant ball of fire
Dispensing warmth and light
Beckons us to open our eyes
And say goodbye to night


Nocturnal creatures scurry back
Into their crevices or lairs.
Fruit bats fly in on leathered wings
Having gorged on Nature’s wares.
The wise old owl returns to her brood
With the catches of the night,
The firefly having secured a mate
Extinguishes her light.
Dawn’s elongated fingers move
Causing cracks in the night sky.
The early birds try out their voice
Then stretch their wings and fly
As vanguards for the approaching day
Heralding both dawn and light,
And as the darkness recedes into the earth
Witness, the passing of the night.



http://www.davidburt.co.uk/poems/documents/PassingofaNight.wav

Still my rhymes lay empty
Yours will fill a barrel of plenty
Fill it up...daffyd and wuzfuz
Cuz' my barrel's empty...
Jus' because......

Hugs to my rhyming buddies! and to whomever joins in to rhyme with us!

We've enacted Thanksgiving
By loading our tables down with fare
We have invited friends and neighbors
Our festive board to share
We have blessed the foundling fathers
Each daughter and each son
We have praised our Lord Creator
For everything He's done
We have watched the 'GAME' on telly
We have supped the amber ale
Now its time to clear the table
Let 'Thanksgiving' into the sunset, sail.