Autumn Welcome

September 22, 2020 at 10:03 pm (Poetry) (, , , )

It was autumn
As the princess walked through the forest
Some of the leaves had turned as red
As the colour of her hair

Other leaves had turned as orange
As the colour of one of her dress sleeves
As it blew gently in the breeze
In the shadow of a beckoning tree

Still other leaves had turned as gold
As the colour of her other dress sleeve
As it glistened in reflecting the golden rays of the sun
That shone through the opening in the forest

The top part of her dress was an amazing
And beautiful array of red, orange and gold
While her bottom skirt was as green
As the grass of the summer season now left behind

A blue jay had landed on her finger
With its colours of blue, black and white
Another bird with blue head, wings and tail
Plus orange breast and white bottom
Headed for a finger on her other hand

A bird with yellow breast
And head of white, black and dark green
Nestled on a dark branch
Of a small still green tree
On her right side

Behind her a bird flew
Yet to come into view
To reveal its colours
In the rays of the golden sun
That shone through the forest opening

It was autumn
And the princess was in the forest
With her friends the birds
Forming a collage to show
That in autumn
The earth wears a coat of many colours

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday September 22nd
Northern Autumn Equinox
2020.

Permalink 12 Comments

Dawn Embrace

September 19, 2020 at 10:18 pm (History, Literature, love, Poetry, Romance) ()


Their kiss welcomed the break of dawn
As morning dove sang a welcome song
far from the far-off battle throng
Knowing this embrace might be their last
Let not this moment go by fast

In each generation, evil raises its cruel slithering head
filling so many lands with much fear and dread
And those noble in soul must rise to the charge
to slay that evil before it grows too large

When evil arises, many are called to make sacrifice
And often one’s own life must bear the price
At times just due to fatal roll of the dice
But for one moment, call a halt to the sands of time
let this moment be captured in verse and rhyme

Let one more kiss do impart
Lest one must fall to death’s dire dart
And return no more full of body and soul
Leaving a grieving heart with a pierced hole.

-A poem written by Christopher
Saturday September 19th 2020.

Permalink 10 Comments

Wilkie The Cat Western

September 11, 2020 at 10:54 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Humour, Poetry, western) (, , , , , , , )

Announcer: The ghost of Orson Welles is now here to give you the introduction to the Wilkie the Cat western.

Welles (appears holding a spectral glass of red wine): Thank you Mr. Announcer. Wilkie the cat is a well known feline thespian and stage director best known for holding the record for the most number of plays
that closed after a perfomance of only one night on Broadway.
Now with the advent of the Chinese Communist Party Wuhan virus which the Ethiopian Communist head of the World Health Organization the non-medical Doctor Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus insists be called the Covid-19 virus, the lights are shut down all over Broadway and not just on Wilkie’s lights out plays.
Thus Wilkie with the love of his life Mitzie (a femme fatale Parisienne cat from Paris) has decided to go into filmmaking. And Wilkie is now making a Western where social distancing will be practiced.
The western now begins in the form of a poem:

Wilkie the Cat was out on the desert trail riding his horse
In a land where there was no Radio Shack or store called The Source
He came to a sign
posted on a cactus’ behind
that said Town Straight Ahead
He rode by a cowboy who looked to be dead
for his skull and his bones were all bleached white
and the fat vulture’s jeans seem to be fitting quite tight

Into the town Wilkie the Cat rode
And parked his horse alongside a fine looking toad
He decided to enter the saloon for a cold one
And entered looking like a son of a gun

The cat Dangerous Dan McGraw was up at the bar
Counting all his pennies from an old glass jar
Meanwhile on the saloon stage was Mitzie the star
singing about her home town of Paris a city quite far

Wilkie the Cat ordered a large glass of milk
And gazed at Mitzie’s legs in nylons of silk
Hey, Dangerous Dan shouted with a threatening glare
Stop looking at my girlfriend’s underwear

Mitzie turned and looked at the handsome catwhiskers stranger
And thought Wilkie must be one heck of a lost Texas ranger
She gave him a wink
which added to the stink
in Dangerous Dan’s countenance most foul
which seemed to be accentuated by the hooting of an owl

Step up in the street for a showdown
Dangerous Dan shouted with a huge downward frown
Wilkie said, I’ll be back after dealing with this clown

Into the street they went
With their holsters quite bent
And they stood face to face
After having walked many a pace

“Draw!” Cried the town crier
As he blew himself with a hair dryer
Pencil and sketch paper came out of opposing holsters
And each hand moved quickly like fast acting roller coasters

Dangerous Dan drew a stick man with a trash can
While Mitzie was on saloon steps fanning herself with a fan
Wilkie drew the Mona Lisa kicking Edvard Munch’s figure making him scream
While Dangerous Dan’s stick man came apart at the seam

My hero! Mitzie the Parisienne gave Wilkie the Cat a kiss
As Dangerous Dan retreated to an outhouse in search of bliss

Wlkie’s sketch was hung in the Wild West Saloon
The subject of an unrecorded Kenny Rogers tune
Wilkie The Cat and Mitzie rode off into the sunset
While the overweight vulture looked for new clothes to let.

-A Wilkie The Cat
narrative poem
written by Christopher
Friday September 11th
2020.

Permalink 4 Comments

The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington At The Wax Museum

September 6, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, , , , , )

There was a Saint Bernard drinking a barrel flask of doubling gin
This side of the town of Duddlington
When he was approached by the duck called Samuel Puddlington

“Good sir,” said the duck as he raised his hat
Which scared off an approaching ravenous cat
“I’m looking for the wax museum in town,
Am I on the right path? Or am I out of bound?”

Said the big furry giant, “Go two blocks yonder and make a left
Like the present Communist Pope of faith bereft,
There you will find the town’s wax museum
With washrooms closed so outside you’ll be peein’. ”

So Samuel Puddlington followed the big dog’s directions
And passed by the store Big Al’s Furniture Selections
There across the street was the wax museum
And following the dog’s advice, outside did his peein’.

He paid his entrance fee and entered the space
which was filled with men and women of varied time and place
There was Marie Antoinette who lost her head
and Robespierre whose Reign of Terror was dread
Until at Guillotine himself, he made his own bed

There was Cleopatra the Queen of The Nile
And Jekyll trying to hide Hyde in his nail file
And meeting his end on the banks of the Thames was Jack the Ripper
Who was swallowed by a heroic giant fish named Flipper

“That definitely explains why they never found Jack!”
Said Sam as he pulled a feather out of his back
Down the hall were comic book characters Richie Rich and Sad Sack
Plus Wolfman Larry Talbot leading the wolves in the pack

In contemporary times
As he jotted down rhymes
were Donald Trump with his silly looking toupee
And Joe Biden whose mind was lost on the way
While in the background, Stalin’s and Mao’s ghosts were at play.

At the end of the hall Lincoln sat in his Ford Theatre seat looking sad
For the play title author’s American cousin had gone mad
Neo-Nazi and Confederate vampire battled Bolshevik and Maoist
And meditating on the sidelines was Buddhist and Taoist

Lincoln’s last words heard by Mary Todd were
“We will visit the Holy Land and see those places
hallowed by the footsteps of the Savior”
like an empty tomb that once marked where a grave were
“There is no city on Earth I so much desire to see as Jerusalem”
Site of where Isaac was saved by the blood of the ram
And the world’s humanity was saved by the blood of the Lamb.

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday September 6th
2020.

Permalink 2 Comments

Another September

September 1, 2020 at 10:06 pm (Poetry) (, , )

Dawn of a new month
September
It was strange he had always thought of September
as an autumn month
Yet technically speaking the first 20 days of September
were usually considered officially summer
The last days of summer

But the leaves on the trees did not follow technicalities
For already they were starting to turn red and gold
The colours of autumn
heralding the advent of autumn

The city in which he lived
worshipped strange gods
cruel gods
perverted gods
Abomination and depravity
was how they marked September
He much prefered the leaves on the trees
falling to the ground
and being swept up by the winds
of a change of seasons
than any celebration of the darkness
within human hearts

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday September 1st 2020.

Permalink 22 Comments

Tidings

August 4, 2020 at 10:47 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry) (, , )


It was a pleasant autumn evening in Moscow
when the news came
The government in Saint Petersburg
had fallen to Lenin and the Bolsheviks

A way of life was about to change
Tyranny now imposed in the name of freedom
Russians must revert back to serfdom
to serve the chosen few
The vanguard of the Revolution

The spires of Christ’s Cross now replaced by the Hammer and Sickle
A hammer that nailed the nails into Christ’s wrists
and a sickle to cut down hordes of people like grain
in a harvest of blood
from which will rise Heaven on Earth
so the new Soviet masters say

Russians must go from honouring the empty tomb of Christ
To honouring the Pergamum temple shaped mausoleum tomb of Lenin
within a space of seven years

The Soviet “paradise” was Hell on Earth
but the official Party line was
“It’s Heaven on Earth”

And Siberia or worse
for denying the official Party line

Today the Washington Post, New York Times and CNN
disinformation branches of the New World Order Ministry of Propaganda
speak a similar Party line
as the old USSR
seeks to rise again
and this time go global
riding the wings of a virus.

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday August 4th 2020.

Permalink 28 Comments

Toad of Toad Hall: An Early July Evening’s Dream

July 5, 2020 at 10:40 pm (Humour, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Toad of Toad Hall was having a ball
but forgetting to send invitations to all
He spent the evening dancing by himself
And looking at all those bottles of booze on the shelf

“If I drank them all, I’d have quite the hangover
And wouldn’t be sober enough to spot a 4-leaf clover”
So Toad went upstairs and gazed at his portrait
“My God, you look resplendent, my mate”.

The portrait was painted by Amedeo Modigliani
And showed Toad smacking a maidservant on the fanny
He was warned not to show the portrait to suffragettes
Or he might lose some body parts not so repairable by vets.

Toad went downstairs and sat in his favourite chair
And thought to himself, “How green’s my underwear”
He got his valet to bring him some absinthe
because Toad of Toad Hall lacked common sense
And having partook much of the Green Fairy
He fell asleep because he felt so weary.

Toad dreamed he was smelling some blossoms of cherries
As he strode through woods in search of Titania Queen of Fairies
For Toad fancied he and Titania were lovers
As amphibian sighed happily under his covers

And there by soft yonder gleam of elegant moonlight
Toad of Toad Hall encountered a most frightful sight

Nick Bottom that most uneloquent jackass
Was making of Queen Titania his most bonnie lass

Toad’s poor heart was not made of stone
As he listened to Titania’s pleasurable moan
The amphibian’s tender heart did up and break
And imagined wedding nuptials would ‘stead become his wake

As he traversed through the woods in search of a poisoned gourd
He by chance stumbled upon the great Pyramis’ sword
He thrust the sword through his chest
Saying “Cruel fate! Give it a rest!”.

They buried Toad on the other side of the stream
As Rat, Badger and Mole wished it was but a dream
King Oberon heard their wish as he rode a moonbeam
and Toad awakened to the sound of tea kettle steam

-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday July 5th 2020
inspired by Kenneth Graham’s
The Wind In The Willows
and
William Shakespeare’s
A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Permalink 6 Comments

Philosophers In A Bar

July 3, 2020 at 10:49 pm (Philosophy, Poetry) ()

A couple of philosophers were sitting at a table in a bar
“Why?” asked the 1st philosopher
“Why not?” asked the 2nd
At that moment a truck carrying 30 tons of grains, wheat, rice and legumes
bound for a vegan plant meat based slaughter house
spun out out of control
and slammed into the bar
killing both men as they sat

“Life is both meaningless and absurd” mused the philosophically inclined bartender as he calmly wiped glasses
Those were the last words he spoke as
the impact of the crash
caused two giant cement boots
that had the sign Property of Godot on them
and were hanging from the ceiling above the bar
to fall on top of the bartender
killing him instantly

-A philosophcal poem
written by Christopher
Friday July 3rd
2020

Permalink 14 Comments

Toad of Toad Hall

July 2, 2020 at 10:34 pm (Humour, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Toad of Toad Hall
Motorbike came to a crawl
As petrol had leaked in bike stall

So Toad took his car keys out of a jar
And went for a spin in his motor car
But when he hit a tree, it gave his car a dent
But since he owned Toad Hall, he didn’t pay any rent

He took his motor boat for a ride down the river
With Dodds for his kidneys and gin for his liver
He passed Mole, Rat and Badger in a row boat
And not watching his way, he hit a castle moat
But lucky for him, his life jacket did float

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday July 2nd 2020
Inspired by the characters in
Kenneth Grahame’s
novel
The Wind In The Willows.

Permalink 18 Comments

String On A Stick

June 29, 2020 at 9:34 pm (Poetry) ()

String on a stick
Was his fishing line
as the boy sat on the banks of a small creek

No line, hook, sinker of a fancy fishing rod
Just sandals on his feet, a dog by his side
and over his head the endless rolling skies above
Skies of blue and sometimes gray
And a sunset to bid adieu to day

He sat and looked at the skies above
The dog wagged his tail
A cricket chirped a brief hello
and a butterfly danced on his nose

He dreamed someday of the man he would become
As he waited for the fish bite on string that never came

Far in the future no creek, no dog, no string on a stick
Just bills and work and deadlines and rush here rush there
Vows of eternal friendship with old classmates he no longer saw
In the adult world, friends are fickle and fleeting
They’re all around on your way up, all gone on your way down

Childhood dreams turn to dust
like sand after a prairie dust storm
The dark clouds no longer have the dramatic thunder of Zeus
But bouts of depression and occasionally despair
Lightning bolts may be dramatic still
But now they’ll keep one down as they move in for the kill

Life was golden down by that creek
with sandals on your feet
and a dog by your side
and clouds in the sky
and sunset bidding the day goodbye
and waiting for the fish bite on string that never came
but somehow life was happy just the same.

-A poem written by Christopher
Monday June 29th 2020

Permalink 10 Comments

Next page »