In Flanders Field
In Flanders Field by John Mccrae
Oi who left the door open, letting the riff raff in.
Not me, I am susceptible to Riffy stuff, donāt take much to make me itch.
Iām getting an itchy back jack
Every single day back
I scratch it with me back scratcher
But it still keeps comin back
I do enjoy the scratch though
With my metal scratcher low low
But if I scratch too hard though
Yesterdays scabs come off wow!
And then theres red rivulets
Rolling down me back
but come next day with itch not at bay
I have to scratch and scratch Jack
Ā© gumboils!
still canāt read it enlarged?
Sorry - I thought it was an open forum. Iāll just get my coat.
In Flanders Fields
John McCrae, 1872 - 1918
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
ah Miss Silver Tabby when did you start feel shut out of general discussions with members of the opposite sex?
Miss Silver Tabby feels locked out
and thinks sheās takin social clouts
Miss Tabby itās really not like that
itās just we didnt much like ya hat
so if youād show your silver locks
Iām sure all doors will come unlocked
so donāt take this too personal
RJ will dry your tears no doubt!
I spend my time in Leisurely Scribbles
Where we sometimes talk in riddles
We mean no harm
In our funny farm
Where we foam at mouth and dribble
Riff raff was aimed at gummy
He thought the comment funny
Didnāt take it so hard
Played on in school yard
Enjoying his bread and honey
Now miss Silver Tabby
I trust now you are happy
And havenāt left the premises
Cos itād leave me in extremisis
Thatās what I call snazzy
Everyone seems to be ignoring
my pathetic scribbles -
they must be really boring.
Will go and make a cup of tea
to drown my sorrows!
Thanks dear RJ and Gummy !
Please forgive me for not arriving sooner.
What wonderful work and I love them.
Keep them coming as it is nice to have something special to read.
miss silver tabby you can sit on my knee anytime -[see I said it before you did RJ so get in the queue.
yes back to ST - yes sit on me knee and purr away and write ya poems - Iāll check punctuation
There once [is] was a nice silver tabby
Her poetry sublime and all savvy
Had a beautiful purr and often sat on the stair
Oh I wish she would sit on my xxxxxxxxxxx
I think RJ and I should take care
Of Miss Tabby and her silver ware
She just glistens in sunlight
And glows in the moon
Oh my god RJ Iām goin to swoon!
hello sweetie pie
you been rolling in rye?
you look superbly dressed for a frolic
I wish you could swirls on that avatar there
Iād be holding RJ back like a girl!!
RJ I am having fun here with the girls but what about leisurely scribbles??
why donāt we ask them to join us there too??
this is for all the ladies here - some of the lads may have heard it beneath but were so frightened by it their speech was frozen for months!!
old Sages
I must have reached the biblical score
When she walked through that sparkling door
She looked and smiled and I smiled back
It was then I knew I had been āhackedā
She asked me if weād met before
And I fell hook, line, sinker on the floor
I offered her champagne on ice
With tears she said ā youāre very niceā
The room just vanished in a haze
Iād become a man half crazed ā half crazed
We talked of places weād both seen
Yet had never met through lovers screen
We lightly dined and talked so briefly
And then she said so very neatly
āI think itās time to talk some more
Perhaps behind a firm closed door?ā
I gulped and thought this canāt be true
As we stepped in the ārising boxā
She gently nuzzled up real close
And I could hear the ātime bombā clock
The key seemed to appear as from nowhere
And it wasnāt in my hand for sure
There was a rose scented glow that built up from real slow
And I knew that I was through heavens door
She beckoned me sit on the chaise lounge
As she poured out more champagne on ice
Then she pushed me real slow and I went with the flow
And lay back thinking this could be nice!
I must have closed both my eyes for a minute
But it seemed hours had passed
When I came to I was nude and felt that was plain rude
To continue without being asked!
But as she hovered around and behind me
Her eyes had a way of making small talk
Then she said time for bed, and like a lamb I was led
To the slaughter I was religiously brought
I lay on the bed like the ābismarkā
all sails had been fully unfurled
as I prepared to up anchor, she said " oh what a wā¦r"
and flew atop of me with an āalbatross whirlā
I confess I have tried may positions
but never an āalbatross whirlā
her arms turned to wings-I could hear angels sing
as she nibbled my neck - what a girl
she purred ābe still my darling -Iāll fix youā
soon get back the wind in ya sails
I must truly confess I was not feeling my best
and my reasoning power had failed
and then if struck by some lightning
a thunderbolt pursed through my veins
my eyeballs did spin - I felt like āheavenly sinā
I thought is this pleasure or pain?
I closed up my eyes in exhaustion
it seemed for a minute or two
but when I awoke the morning had broke
and the āalbatrossā flown the coup
Ā© gumbud
Thank you for the poems
I am touched by them all
I better not do some swirling
As I would likely fall
I am such a dizzy blonde
Who rushes to and fro
Watch out, as I fly around
Youāre warned, so now you know
No time to write as you all do
Iāll be back to read them now
For now, Iāll flutter off again toodle-oo
Deleted, deleted, where has it gone
Maybe a poem, or even a song
Forgotten Library
There, on shelves lie never read,
Novelists and childrenās books,
Forgotten poets now long dead,
In this room where no one looks.
Comfy chairs, an open fire,
Peaceful quietness, cold within,
The place they once went to retire,
Has only lonely ghosts of kin.
Adults have no time to read,
Children, have the net, you see,
Itās sad they havenāt got the need,
This room, it craves their company.
Autumn Night.
The air is still above the field
A hunters moon hangs in the sky
The harvestās safely gathered yields
Are now stored in the barn to dry.
I stand amongst the stubbles sheath
Gazing across at the field beyond
A pale shadow flitting in relief
The barn owl is quartering, ghostly and blonde.
Very good Tiff, you have a great talent
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