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"I was born in London and went to school in Scotland - I used to be dead tired when I got home at night."- Norman Wisdom, All the islands in the ocean all the heaven's in motion, As the sun was shining and I was strolling And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling As the fog was lifting a voice was saying, Boogie-wonder, Electric baby-blue land, I am your man I'll work out a five-year plan So vote for me brothers And I will save this land, I've got three ships and sixty men A course for ports unread I'll stand at mast let north winds blow till half of us are dead Land ho!, In the land of the free Land of the free land of the free Move on there's nothing to see, So I drove down that old country road And the spirits conjured something Grey clouds over storms did roll And I searched for you in the cyclone, Sometimes I think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own., The land created me. I'm wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities I'm more at home in the vacant lots., There's a magic land not far from here and they call it Nutwood
Landlocked
This land is:
Our land,
Island,
Argh-land,
Ireland . . .
The ampersand land of
Fathers afore,
&
Our forefathers,
And at least four
Mothers, to be fair (or sure);
Former others,
Toomevara to Kildare.
The
Father land.
Mother land.
Heartland.
Homeland.
Security.
Wasteland.
All over this . . .
Landslip:
There’s many twixt cup and lip.
Land ho!
A sense of humour is vital.
Land of hope and glory.
Is it really?
A land of the brave, home of the free.
Debatable.
Land owners.
Get off MY land.
But my land is your land.
Such landscrapes! —
He floundered:
A landed fish.
Take note, I said.
Fish do not
Love the land,
For they drown
Gasping for air upon it.
Just watch the flounder err.
The landed gentry:
What of the landed ladyry —
Did they land well?
I’ll take the highland, and you
Take the lowland.
Then let us drive away
In a landaulet carriage,
To fantasy argh-land,
Ire-land, our land, island.
The plane! The plane!
Boss.
The Land of Nod:
Preludes and nocturnes.
You like Chopin but I
Like choppin’ an’ shoppin’.
James Dean — big chopper.
A man of sand.
No man is an island.
Islands in the stream.
You scream,
‘Eye creme!’
‘Ice cream!’ I scream.
Arse cream tooting
Fireworks and kazoos.
Baby you’re a . . .
Neverland:
On the never, never,
Ending story.
An ending story —
Never for some,
Hidden and found
On unholy ground,
Peter Pan’s dark disgrace . . .
A land of hurt, this place.
La-la land:
Tell that to Tubby.
I believe you’ve visited;
Is the weather clement?
‘Yes it is,’Freud replied,
Or was it Attlee?
What weather we’re having!
Landlord:
Master of the Free House.
Master of his rented accommodation.
And servant.
Ah, Rigsby!
Oh! Miss Jones.
Are you a landlubber, me hearty?
I lub my land almost as much as I lub you.
This land that time forgot.
Yet I shall forever remember,
Without choice.
Wonderland: Mad as a mercury-addled hatter.
Landlady:
A lady to land upon;
A shoulder to cry upon, anon.
Why aye? Go on.
B&B she’ll comply
With the drinks she will ply.
Must soldier on,
Stand your ground on
In times bygone, on and on . . .
Eyes land upon her.
The Promised Land:
Promises all broken.
Broken, somehow,
Whilst the land of the living,
Doubles as the land of the dead,
Often unnecessarily.
Ultimately pertinent in every case,
At least once with the moon landing
This feels like some enchanting landmark.
Or so the tuppence said
Midst the mess of thoughts just read;
Both legs and ears cocked,
A pot of words crocked,
And what’s left to be righted
Whilst stranded and blighted
& . . .
(so said the ampersand)
Is it to be landlocked, cock
Or ought ye strive to unlock your rock?
The Cloud surveys all standing under,
Recognizing it as blunder
To be trapped within the mapped
In clapped-out histories crapped.
So meld the world as one, all lands;
Don a unifying face as each homeland stands;
Smiling together as one glorious place;
For ye are all but one human race.
[Meum est terra vestra terram]
Esme's Cloud 
What a fine rollicking ’tis to be sure to be sure!
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Thank you sir! It be, it be! Arrghhh, pieces of fate and the like.
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With nary an ocean
On waking this day
(Mind calm as karma
From sure to sure)
Never dreamt of all this
Far from shore, all at sea
Staggering groggily to n fro
(‘tween Master Bates
And Roger the cabin boy)
Sudden signal from a cloud
Waving me on, waving back
Swept away now on a wave
(Short wave, long wave
Medium wave – Am I AM, FM)
Not waving, not drowning
Only dreaming …
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HAHAHAHAHAHA, marvellous, I love that you spark words off the Cloud so Ben! I want to put that to music, and now I have a rude Sex Pistols song going around my head now that I recall being chastised for soundly due to singing said song loudly down the road as a wee kiddy, not realising just how filthy they were – falls about and off the ropes – I’ll leave it to the readers to check out the lyrics. It reached number three in the charts!
Interesting side notes on the origin and the like here – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Good_Ship_Venus
Thank you Ben, a superb offering on your part. –throws a bouquet of tropical fruit laced with rum his way
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Aye aye, cap’n.
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There are some very good vintage rums and I deduce that Kermit is circumcised (not that I was wondering).
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AHAHAHAHAHAHA. Blimey, that gets you at the top of the board for best comment of the months that does.
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Sublime use of language [img]http://www.gomotes.com/emoticon/tiphat.gif[/img]
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Sincere thanks Mr Pink. I’m really pleased you think so ❤
Esme looking very happy he caught all the twists and enjoyed them upon the Cloud
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Love the word association and the lilting romp towards the end. Thanks for the chuckle Esme. 😄
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Yes, there needs a bit of light after the dark, the balance tips and rolls all the time. Thank you for reading and loving the wordage Val!
Esme blowing a kiss from the Cloud to Val’s present land
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Amper Sand lands anchor ===> & <=== ‘pon the strand of Island Argh — claimin’ Eire Land for You’re Land or Fantasy Arghland for FARArGhE’s FollyLollyLaLaLand
Ze plane! Ze plane!
I yell, you holler, we all wail for eye’s creme.
Arse Cream Toots, BigMakes, BurgerKinks, WhiteChrysalises, ‘n’ KFC CracklinCakes courtesy o’ the Trumpin’ Arse
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You know I did think of having the Trumping Arse in there and his invisible wall, and Farage’s Follylang is spot on as well, but in all honesty I felt they’d sully the Cloud with their presence, not that they do via you of course, for you have them well caged there Bill with your fine wails and Walls ice cream, hahahahaha.
Arse cream toots.
Marvellous.
Thank you sir.
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I’d say there’s more than a hinterland in that there piece.
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Missed that one – well done for picking it up – nicely done mister Em Em.
I think you might be onto something there.
Thank you for the wordage sir – beams
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Delightful, it moves so gingerly across the page. Would that I had your wordsmithing talents. Thank you for your wonderful pieces and much appreciated words of encouragement.
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Why thank you MW for visiting, reading and more-so commenting so kindly, ‘gingerly across the page’ – lovely – curtsies; I always wait for the best ones, no matter how long a hiatus they take. I’m glad to read you’re dipping your toes back in the blogesphere’s wordy pond again.
Keep on and on. x
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makes so much turmoil & fun
out of thinking
of being on the land
before, again
returning to it 🙂
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I like the cut of your gib
by which I mean nowt that’s glib
of land you are right and sound
for ’tis the core of which we are found(ed)
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before going to a dictionary
i’m smiling to your lexicological
kind way with words, Esme upon the Cloud 🙂
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I do love to play with them smilecalm, much joy can be gleaned from wily wordage.
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