"Always be a poet - even in prose" - Charles Baudelaire, "I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything" - Steven Wright, Legless sheep or drunk Clouds?
My fellow loon Jess pointed me in the way of a blogger who’s writing she thought I might enjoy. She was right. The Occasional Musing of Peter J. Thomas, is an definitely an enjoyable read, and often a smile is raised of a morning, when reading his quirky rhymes. However, they are not all rib-ticklers, for he also tackles the melancholy and poignant.
My taste tends to sit firmly at the farthest reaches of the pendulum when it comes to writing – I love purple prose, words tied up in artful knots, unique, and rare to come across well crafted I find, but I also enjoy quite the opposite, and envy the apparent ease with which simple verse that hits the spot appears – for usually I’m only happy with mine own verse if it has some intricacy and dancing within. So I’ve been working on broadening my range there. It makes for useful exercises within the grey matter it seems, and definitely lends itself to humour as devices go.
Here is a sample of Peter J’s work for you, I think most of you will find something in there you like smiles (each title links back to the original). I’ve posted a few, as most of his poems are short ones;
I’m not saying that I’m sick,
I certainly wont die,
But last time that I went,
I could’ve thread a needle’s eye.
Please don’t make me go to work,
For I am not to well,
The problems that I seem to have,
Are not easy to tell,
I do not have a broken bone,
Or sores or just a cold,
My problem is my soul is broke,
I’m tired, alone and old.
I often go to bed at night,
With a grumble in my tum,
And once it has then settled down,
I play tunes out of my……….
If you offer out a helping hand,
Before requests are made,
If you challenge the direction,
Long before the weak have strayed,
You must never bow your head to fear,
Nor acquiesce to wrong demands,
Hope is the last virtue,
When it’s time to make a stand
Clouds rush by like legless sheep,
All hurried by the breeze,
Whilst bumble bees and butterflies,
Dance about with graceful ease,
For nature shows us how to be,
How to enjoy life,
So when you get a moment,
Let nature ease your strife.
The lights are fading now on Broadway,
The tale’s been told too many times,
Characters they’ve lost their edge,
The plot lines we all mime,
The spotlight’s spread too thin across,
A stage shadowed by black,
We remember all the good times,
But they are never coming back,
Perhaps one last performance,
Maybe a matinee,
I doubt they’ll get an audience,
For my life’s final day.
Thank you for sharing my work. I am glad that I can make people smile. It is something you can never grow tired of.
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sonmi upon the Cloud said:
You are most welcome Peter. And I agree, the more smiles the better – adds to the pot with her own there and then
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