Who’s messy? Who’s fussy? ©(Poem)

Mummy says I’m messy.

I explain I’m not.

My things you’ll find, in the place

Exactly where they’re dropped!

 

Papers not in order

Are a puzzle to be solved,

And clothes piled, in a big heap

Is a system yet to evolve!

 

My bed is rarely ever made

In an ‘exhausting’ effort, to time save;

And dust gathers, on the sides

To stop it scattering, if it’s wiped!

 

My toys lie, on the ground

So there’s no need, to get them out,

And books stay open, on the page

So I won’t ever, lose my place!

 

But Mummy still, says I’m messy;

I’ve begun to think, she’s kind of fussy.

I’d written a letter, to tell her my mind…

Please tell me if it, you manage to find!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2018/11/17/whos-messy-whos-fussypoem/

Ghost in my town © (poem)

I’ve heard stories about you,

And yet we’ve never met.

How can you hide in this small town

like shadow in silhouette?

 

Do you crawl amongst the dewy moss?

Do you bury down deep underground?

Do you go to bed when lights turn out,

or do owls hoot to you a sign?

 

Do you sing a merry tune to the sun,

or howl at the sight of the moon?

Can you see through fog and mist,

or are you blind and hear just sounds?

 

Do you freeze at the feel of Jack’s tingly frost,

or turn to stone in the summer rays?

Do you melt in April showers,

or does heat make you fade?

 

Father says you’re in the graveyard,

While Mum says you haunt homes;

How can you be in two places at once,

or do you often roam?

 

One thing is for certain,

We’ll surely meet one day

But I feel I must warn you:

I may run the other way!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2018/11/14/ghost-in-my-town-poem/

Sleep dreams of life ©

Owls hoot, Tigers roar and Rabbits dance around

The magic little island, all your friends dream about;

Each has a dragon, which hides within a cave

That’s dark and damp, mysterious,

And has a maiden to be saved

A Pirate hides a treasure, stolen from a King

And a Princess is locked high in a tower, nothing to do but sing

A wicked witch lurks in the woods and hopes for a cruel capture

While the Wolf waits and watches, for what it does not matter.

You see our dreams are all the same cos we’re too scared to think;

And so we’re lost in a template maze, we might as well call sleep!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2018/10/06/sleep-dreams-of-life/

Love in the music – Duet© (Poem)

Said Cello to Piano, you have all the right keys and notes

And you play in such a way I do adore;

Said Piano to the Cello, you’re a mighty well strung fellow

Have you not rested here beside me once before?

Dear Piano you are Grand, back then I couldn’t stand

I was merely a Violin when you last saw!

 

You’re so deep Cello,

You’ve the scale Piano

Do you think we might duet?

 

If we start Cello,

Never break your bow

And you must play until the end;

Never solo our sonata

Don’t flatten what is sharper

Else chorus I’ll apprehend.

 

Porticello, portamento

Sentimento, you and me two

We shall play, au naturel.

Other instruments uptempo

I won’t chase them with crescendo

To encore we’ll be compelled

 

Cello dear, before you hear

Poco amore in our score

I must suggest this little request,

I shall not quaver to begin

Nor let you pinch at your own strings

Until you buy me a Treble Clef.

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/08/love-in-the-music-duet-poem/

Poem – A warning about gorging! (The Goplikagoot)©

In a time and a place

Beyond lands that you know

Lived a creature – full of horror.

 

Villagers leapt when he crept

Cos they knew, they’d be stew

If caught in a grip

Covered in scale.

 

His eyes were big, skin tough

Brown and furry, kind of rough

Had such a stink, even skunks held their nose!

His hair matted, eyebrows platted

Fingers hooked, claws crooked

He stood – as tall – as the biggest home.

 

In a cave by the bay

Was the place where he stay

And villagers daredn’t disturb.

A dark layer where he lay

Laze about, most the day

Destination for disappearing herds.

 

Each day at noon, birds would swoon

To the note of his croon

As he cleared out and emptied the trash;

Out of waste hauled, hair would fall,

Bones would scatter, teeth clatter

From remains – of supper and foe.

 

Then one day,

There was thumping,

Footsteps coming

Up the hill

To the village – where everyone froze,

The monster grumbled

Belly rumbled…

When an old man screamed

Beware!  The Goplikagoot!

 

The village emptied, not a soul,

Not a fish, not a mole

Was left, to challenge the guest;

Out the forest stepped a boy,

Who had seen once before

And knew exactly – what he should do.

 

Potion mixed, feast fixed

He hid himself, awful quick

Then he rang  – the dinner bell.

The boy waited in the shadows

While monster screamed and bellowed

Until he saw  – the mountain of food.

 

Then Goplikagoot gorged:

All through night,

On chocolate delight

Oh what a sight:

To see him covered in goo!

Fast asleep there he lay,

Till the sun reached midday

And he’d baked into a stone statue!

 

Now all parents tell their children

To eating rules they must listen

Know the difference between need and greed;

Sweet as chocolate is to taste

Never gorge on it in haste

Else they’ll end up like the Goplikagoot!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/12/07/the-goplikagoot-a-warning-about-gorging/

Paint the soul ©

And so the Wizard, out of forest peeked

To the Girl, him came to seek

Surprised but happy she found her goal

Her secret tale to him she told:

The pain, the sorrow, won’t you wash it away?

My soul to colour, not this ugly grey.

 

My dear, you are but, still a child

The ink well full, and paper dry

Your soul is yours, as is how to paint

You need nature, not magic to taint.

 

Oh wise old Wizard, can you not see?

The one I love, does not love me;

He seeks a rainbow bright and pure

With promise of a pot of gold.

 

Dear child, you already shine so bright

I fear magic only dims the light.

But if you must this path to choose,

Free will and victory you both will lose.

 

I hear your voice and words I heed

But will the magic make Him need me?

 

Magic is, as magic does

All is made from ash and dust,

Were you to put this in his food

Then he will love you like a fool,

Be you fat or be you thin,

Be your hair unkempt or skin;

Be you funny or be you bore

Just the same, you he’ll adore.

True love it may seem to be,

Or crazy lemming – jumping to sea.

Even if you gain a new start,

Only true love can mend a broken heart.

 

Then tell me wizard, what do you see?

How is the best way forward for me?

 

The Choice be yours, and you must do:

Put potion in the poor boy’s food;

Or, free it now into the air

And let your soul, the colours snare.

The girl took a moment, pondering

Each decision, what would life bring?

Then after weighty pause,

She reasoned out, her best course…

 

And so she blew into the wind,

Dust flew out and coloured within

The smile upon the sweet girl’s face

Showed she had discovered herself.

 

With no further need to manipulate

She left true love to deal with fate.

And Mother Nature, with loving sigh,

Painted her hair with bright pink dye.

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/paint-the-soul/

Married to the Dog ©

It’s not how I imagined:

Being married to a dog,

Faithfulness unquestionable

Until we’re at the pub.

 

My Mother was the first to warn

That instinct controls the heart.

I really should have listened,

But, once together, hard to part.

 

It’s true you never take me out

And we dine in front of TV

I guess it’s better than being alone

Nobody to comfort me.

 

And though I do enjoy our walks

You never have much to say,

Sometimes I feel like your keeper

A distraction from your play.

 

And it’s true, that while I’m at work,

What you do, I never know;

I suppose I should be grateful that –

On return – you don’t want me to go.

 

And I know that our happiest times

Are when you and I have food;

We’re still better off than my best friend

Whose husband she calls a fool!

 

©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address

https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/married-to-the-dog/