Poem – Taxpayer Thomas

Taxpayer Thomas’s wife would be on tenterhooks
Wondering what her husband’s response would be
Would he be dejected, shout and yell
Or would he dance and prance with glee

He’d toil away at a job disliked
To pay his family’s way
So he saw his refund as his hard-earned reward,
‘A reward for my troubles,’ he would say

‘Not just your way,’ his wife would add,
‘But paying for those that cannot work,
Like John & Debbie Tucker,
And poor old Nelson & Mary Burke.’

Tom’s finger pressed against the page,
Against the envelope
Pushed it open, took out the note, and said;
‘S**t, it’s gotta be a joke.’

‘Honey,’ his wife said, excitedly,
‘It’s not like you to be obscene.
What on earth can be wrong?
What can it possibly have been?’

‘Look what they’ve done,’ Tom replied,
‘They’ve added a chart to my refund check.
It tells me where my tax dollars go.
Oh, what the bloody heck?’

By now Tom’s wife was adamant
Her husband had gone quite off his tree.
He hadn’t spoken like this before,
Not since his days at sea.

The chart, it was before him
In colors blue, yellow, red and green.
Twenty-three thousand went on welfare,
He wished he hadn’t seen.

Seventeen billion dollars a year
Went on Disability alone.
He’d seen it in the paper
Yesterday, when he was home.

Tom, (well, the taxpayer in him at least)
Threw the paper to the floor,
And said to himself (as you do);
‘I can’t take it anymore.’

His wife was always careful
To see the other side.
‘How could people less fortunate
Get by,’ she said, she sighed.

‘The welfare system exists for a reason
And we taxpayers pay our share.
But at the end of the day,’ Tom’s wife thought,
‘Someone has to care.’

She quietly put her arm around
Her husband’s shoulder, on a whim.
Gently, surreptitiously,
She knew she could mould him.

Tom’s wife could feel him releasing
All his inhibitions and frustration.
He was no longer concerned, she felt,
About the social welfare of the nation.

At last Tom had come around,
He could see the other side
Until next year (when his refund came again)
And he’d have a hissy fit, and cry.

Poem – Oliver

Oliver strolled to the highest mountain
To seek out a magical sight.
It was a mountain greener than the greenest of pastures,
It spoke of goodness and light.

From the mountain-top Oliver saw the cliffs,
Far to the west they stood.
On top a four-leafed clover found
By the wee man wearing a hood.

A clover was lucky, four-leaves to be sure,
So rare that to seek and to find
Would give good luck for time immemorially,
Attached to the finder and to his kind.

A wee little leprechaun has special powers to search
For what others find barely at all.
Faith, hope and love, a three-leaf clover can give
But the fourth leaf keeps one enthralled.

Oliver the shoemaker can hide the clover away
In his shoe, and there it will stay
Until others attach themselves to the little green man
And they try to take it away.

Then the others ask after the leprechaun’s gold,
Pots of it they think he does have.
“You’ll never take it away,” the little man says.
At the end of the rainbow it’s safe.

But the wee little man could not hide the truth,
A lie he never could tell.
So he moved his pot of gold from the end of the rainbow
Down to the water well.

The Jester had listened, intently he’d heard
All that had come from the ‘crowd.’
He had nothing to add other than harmony, verse
And with that he sang this out loud;

“Roll over, roll over, that four-leaf clover
Become the leprechaun’s friend
Roll over, roll over that four-leaf clover
Can’t wait to see Oli’ again.”

Poem – The apple tree

He sat alone amongst the many

Soulful, stifled, unknown to all

As if a shadow followed him in sunshine

As passers-by, unseen, did fall

He sat alone amongst the many

Touching though they could not feel

Speaking though they could not hear

He shouted as if to declare;

‘I’m reaching out to those in need

But it’s me who needs protecting

The multitude could not feel, hear or see 

No-one that day would follow me.’

He sat alone amongst the many

He sat there as twilight followed day

Knowing someone, somewhere, would assist him

Knowing someone, somewhere, would one day say;

“I’ve been you when you were me

I’ve been near the end, alone and lonely

Believe, have faith, prey mercy be

Come take my hand, all you need, only

Is a friend from the pit, from down below

Who’s been there once, twice, thrice before

Starved, deprived of pictures, words

Starved of truth, forgotten, poor.

Yet I’ve walked sun-filled streets free from harm

To feel shackle wrap ’round my arm

So I reach up toward the sky

‘Cos there I find the reason why.

‘Release me,’ I cried, enjoy the day

I know not any other way

When shackle’s gone, life surrounds

Sickness and fear no more abound.

Fear and emotion I wear not well

Estrangement, loss, a wishing well

Espouse free thought and free expression

As I share with you my true impression

Safe and harmless it may be

Undervalued, uncared for, freedom lost

My smile, at best, a need to see

Save other from life’s needless cost.

What we harvest we, in time, reap then sow

No matter a good harvest or a bad one be

Beyond the pit come follow me

The fruit will grow on your apple tree.”

Poem – helping hand

A hand reached out in time of need,
Rain in time of drought.
Fingers interlaced, accede,
Bud blooms from planted seed.

A hand reached out, come what may,
In time of loss, of sorrow.
Transfixed, hand in glove. To stay?
Or would, once more, in time, away?

A hand reached out, no more the poorer
A descendent finding family.
To face, to feel, to touch, be surer,
With every waking hour. Purer?

A hand reached out to touch the glass
Through it could be seen the far horizon.
‘Twas a masterpiece from the past,
It’s value translucent. Would it last?

A hand reached out in time of need
Sun in time of flood.
Fingers interlaced, accede,
The town survived, the rain recedes.

Poem – After the Fall

Once I was in the womb

Before I made it to the tomb

What went between it matters not

Cherished memories, now forgot

 

Maitre’d to those with plenty

Entree served before main course

Do we get to partake at all

Or just bus and wait on you and yours

 

Transcendental or eternal

With alterations, grass is greener

Grass dies with season ending

Altered, dead, or just pretending

 

The fence makes another’s life look sweet

Fence impales sight

As I reach the fence, other’s life turns sour

Reality bites, pang of guilt felt – quite

 

Ill wind brings chill, cold light of day

Riches of another won’t go away

Pleasure lost, regret in tow

Envy present of friend and foe

 

Path hindered to resolution

Satisfaction’s path be true

To satisfy, life’s conundrum

Regret away, walk on through

 

Consider bird, or tree, or well-bound book

Duty, strain of thought, be gone

Pragmatic not Deterministic

Smile, if present, only wan

 

Well-bound book or bumble-bee

Man-handled or nature’s own

Rejoice on Satisfaction’s path

Regret be gone, enjoyment grown

 

Stow away on path to plenty

Plenty reached after the Fall

Satisfaction now on board

Cherished memories, now recalled.

 

Poem – Moral Absolution

I felt a pang of enmity

In shoulder and in heart

A pang that measures friend from foe

Who, once loved, now forgot.

 

But enmity and absolution

Couldn’t share the thoughts of one

A lover with a dagger drawn

Spells irony to some

 

To heal, to treat, perambulate

Attend to task at hand

Others would awaken

Compassion in that man.

 

Beholden love, beholden trust

Respect met Graciousness that day

Invited Care, Consideration

To participate, to stay.

 

Notice the feather in his cap

See the bird resting on the sill

Bravo those attending him

Thank God they always will

 

Give of themselves what’s within

Release, absolve, commute

Consider not the worth of man

But the moral absolute.

Poem – the world beyond the fatal shore

The world beyond the fatal shore
Not like the world in days before
Danger we could glean

Danger knows not, of hill-top morn'
Or life of old-country, worn
Hard yakka it had been

But enough of hills, enough of grass 
You knew young love would never last 
Life offers so much more

Past the dip, a rip, a mystery
That drew me to the fatal sea
And back toward the shore

The shore knows not of ocean, sought
And knowing not of what it brought
And nil of harbor fore

Leave harbor fore, explore beyond
Hurry, scamper, go, abscond
And travel far from here

Travel further than you thought
To see where sacrifice, it fought
To see where life was fear

Breathe in the air, forget your task
Keep filtered with a hip, a flask
Forget about your chores

That he would, with glass and lid
Atop the glass, filled to the brim
Life brought a world, unknown

Fit as a right old mallee-bull
The curtain, not yet down to pull
Excitement on the phone

It drew him far, drew him away
His stomping ground was shaken, frayed
He'd never be the same

It drew him, portrait-like, with pride
Stomping ground to other side
Alive he felt, again

Breathe it in m'lad, it's now or none
Or you'll never know where life begun
Or, oh, to where it lead

Suck it up, m'lad, m'son
In mug or cup, you know you won
A life by family creed

That creed be one of loyalty
Not God-forsaken misery
We ought to feel alive

So, feel free to stay or go afar
Keep our secret in a secret jar
Enjoy, be happy, that you are
For God's sake, let us thrive!

Poem – But once…

Tell me that the Earth is round
I'll convince you it is square
Tell me there's justice in the world
I'll tell you it's unfair

Tell me to sit down
I'll surely want to stand
Tell me you prefer the hills
I'll run along the sand

Tell me; turn toward the right
I'll move further to the left
Tell me they have wealth, with plenty
I'll show you someone who's bereft

Tell me government's for the people
I'll say; the people think it's not
Tell me you cannot remember
I'll say; dear, you just forgot

Tell me you're a teetotaller
I'll admit I like a drink
Tell me you work out at the gym
I'll say; I like to sit and think

Or tell me you prefer a beer
I'll say; I would rather wine
Tell me you want to order fish
I'm bound to say; meat's fine

Tell me you want to see the world
I'll say; I prefer to stay at home
Tell me you message via text
I'll admit I prefer the phone

Tell me you've seen the city's tallest building
I'll show you one that's taller
Tell me you saw a dwarf, real small
I'll point out one that's smaller

Tell me you have vertigo
I'll prove I have no fear
Tell me feelings are things you cannot show
I'll be sure to shed a tear

Tell me some are yet to cross the line
I'll tell you they crossed over
Tell me you don't believe in luck
I'll pick a four-leaf clover

Tell me you like suit-and-tie
I'll dress casual for sure
Tell me you would like two kids
I'll say that I want four

Tell me the baby cannot crawl
I'll show you it can walk
Tell me the baby's yet to speak
I'll say that it can talk

Tell me you're an out-going girl
I'll admit to you I'm shy
Tell me you're in it for what you get out
I'll say; now, that's the reason why

Tell me you are God's creation
I'll say; Mother Nature played a part
Tell me you'll leave me here, alone
I'll jest; you have no heart

Tell me you've had many lovers
I'll admit to just a few
Tell me they meant nothing to you
I'll say; the one for me was you

Life comes but once to you and me
If I propose, you will say; no
I'll treat you fondly, ever-more
To you, my heart will go.





3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 3

A big ‘thank you’ must go to Taruna for encouraging me to participate in this challenge. Go to her site, http://rhythmandthedancer.org/ – a medium of expression. And what a medium for expression it is! Her use of words (and pictures) creates a great synergy for those who appreciate the English language.

Day 3 Challenge

THE MAN IN THE ARENA                                           Excerpt from the speech “Citizenship In A Republic”                                           delivered at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France on 23 April, 1910

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

From: http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/trsorbonnespeech.html

Today’s challenge goes to:-

  1. http://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/
  2. https://perfectthedays.wordpress.com/
  3. https://dreamspinnerextraordinaire.wordpress.com/

Challenge rules:-

  1. thank your challenging blogger and post their site
  2. post three consecutive days
  3. post one to three quotes per day
  4. challenge three different bloggers per day

 

Hope you enjoy the challenge – know that you were hand-picked.

3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 2

A big ‘thank you’ must go to Taruna for encouraging me to participate in this challenge. Go to her site, http://rhythmandthedancer.org/ – a medium of expression. And what a medium for expression it is! Her use of words (and pictures) creates a great synergy for those who appreciate the English language.

Day 2 Challenge

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”

Epicurus – Greek Philosopher

and Hedonist (341-270 B.C.)

Epicurus

Today’s challenge goes to:-

  1. http://peacehacks.com/
  2. http://sacharines.wordpress.com/
  3. https://thehistoricaldiaries.wordpress.com/

Challenge rules:-

  1. thank your challenging blogger and post their site
  2. post three consecutive days
  3. post one to three quotes per day
  4. challenge three different bloggers per day

 

Hope you enjoy the challenge – know that you were hand-picked.