Poem of 2024

fanciful thought
... I don't dive or swim. It would've been nice to see them in action.

In a garden deep in the sea within
there, the corals are blooming
in the soft filtered light
fish swims in patterned shoals

two rainbow fish live together
their scales all colours that glitter
among the garden of corals on seabed
happy snuggles on thier coral bed

In the garden seaweed sways
rainbow fish happy all their days
in their coral garden in ocean blue
two hearts beat together forever true

the coral planting is one of their conservation efforts against coral deterioration due to fish bombing and other human factors
https://youtu.be/b4lGD61ulbQ?si=KC7_kAIPLzpb6ZAN

Clown Fish 🤡🐠

He's here again! The Clown's still hanging round,
but now he's gone all finny with a tail,
and while she's standing there on sandy ground,
he's swimming in the water with the Whale,
and looking at his girl upon the sand –
who's left her footprints deep upon his shore! –
still hoping that she'll get to understand
he thinks the whole wet world of her and more.
Alas, she has no eyes for Clowny fish;
she's built a reef to keep them all away,
and though it is his very dearest wish
he knows she'll never swim with him and stay.
But, still, he'll keep on swimming in her stream,
for even Clowny Fish can smile and dream. 🙃

🐟🐠


Sandy Sure 🏝️

The Blue-Sand Girl has sandy toes today,
and sandy hair and sandy ears as well.
Her face is sandy, too, she has to say –
she's total sand, as far as I can tell!
She's taking photographs for them and me,
and strolling round her heaven of a beach;
but stopping now and then to drink iced tea,
while looking lovely as a pretty peach.
I must confess to thinking jealously
of long hot happy days beneath the sun,
because it's raining here most miserably
and dark November days are grim and glum.
My day would brighten, though, be free from care,
if I were on that sunny beach with her. 🙃

🏝️☀️🐬


https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=otOcsjoa63k&pp=ygUTdHJ1ZSBzcGFuZGF1IGx5cmljcw%3D%3D

🐬🦈

You don't swim? If we were on a beach, I'd pick you up and chuck you in. You'd soon learn. 🙃

(Well, you are on holiday, so I'm hoping the little bit of gentle flirtation in the two poems above is permitted without you getting cross🙃🐟)

🐟

Blue
...not on a holiday..sigh..
I'm doing a write up on conservation and tourism impact

thrown into the sea
would be the end of me
I'm neither a cork
nor a buoy

I'd  float down to the seabed
and end up quite dead
I'd be food for the fish
the octopus and cuttlefish

so don't throw me in I pray
let me on land stay


I am a bit sunburnt
but all okay otherwise...so how was your day?
https://youtu.be/TdrL3QxjyVw?si=rF5LnRBPm5C93K80

She asks him how his day went,
or
'I don't want to go, Mum!' ☹️

So, now the party games are put away,
the summer fun is just a memory,
and all that's left is doom and gloom for me –
the hateful new School Term begins today!
Relentless toil – alas! – is here to stay
until December comes and Christmas break,
but till that blesséd time I have the ache
of work. To rise at dawn, so cold and bleak,
to face the long and awful child-filled week
is grim indeed, I’ve learned, make no mistake.

☹️

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HrxX9TBj2zY&pp=ygUgYW5vdGhlciBicmljayBpbiB0aGUgd2FsbCBwYXJ0IDI%3D

☹️


OK, I won't throw you in. 🙃🐬

The poem above is one that I wrote in the summer. I've adapted it a bit for this post, hence the chronological creak in the second line.🙃 I've not long come home – 6.30pm now. Still, a grim today of punching children is followed by a Friday night with the weekend ahead, so the corners of my mouth are once again in the ascendent. 🙃

You're getting paid for going to an island paradise and writing a report? Oooh! Now I'm doubly jealous. If you go again, bung down a PA on your expenses and I'll come with you. 🏝️🙃 How's your investigation going? Have you found the impact of tourism on the environment to be at all significant? I remember you mentioned the coral. ☹️

Just by the by, I'm also on DU now as jonesy333, just in case. 🕵️‍♂️

Always wear your hat ☀️👒☀️

Smiles 🙃

🏝️

Multiples
...wow. so what does jonesy333 do? I once had a multiple but I became single again. I couldn't manage one let alone two personalities. Each to each own I suppose. Send my best regards

so he walked the plank
and took the change
plunging into the sea
landing on the sand

he didn't understand
why it was over so fast
the smile the kiss
and the fare thee well

he recovered in the tropical storm
carried by his golden girl
towards ecstacy like a dream
dancing and swinging in the hurricane

it was love actually...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSeAXwh031Q

Crapulous

A spoon of golden marmalade,
a big thick slice of toast,
a cup of tea like mama made
is what he likes the most

to settle stomach, stop the pain
of bangingthrobbinghead,
to make him feel alive again,
to stop him feeling dead ...

Hooray! Once more it's done the trick!
The ache has gone away,
and now no longer he feels sick
he's fit to face the day. 🙃

🍷🍻🍺🍹🥂🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃


Just a poem☝️. No idea where it came from. 🙃🥃

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=bVh4GeEATcw&pp=ygUVc29uZ3MgYWJvdXQgaGFuZ292ZXJz

🥃🍷🍺


jonesy333's not going to be doing anything. Perhaps if I ever write any free verse – which I find difficult, to say the least😬 – the inevitably appalling result will end up on his page, to avoid bringing disgrace and dishonour on poor old ajay's head, bless him. 🙃

What name did you choose for your other identity, if it's not a secret? 🕵️‍♂️🙃

📝

ajay said:

What name did you choose for your other identity, if it's not a secret? 🕵️‍♂️🙃

📝


Her name was Mistral. Wrote short poems on the five senses and perceptions. A bit mystical a little otherworldly. Weird too.

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, my arse!'

To rain on Sunday surely isn't fair!
The day by name should shine, be warm and bright.
The gloom and greyness in the Autumn air
fit not at all with Sun Day's name of light.
Clouds, heavy, dull, spread out across the sky,
sit shrouding all the world, a sodden cloak;
a foggy mist hangs heavy as a sigh
and clings like sad and damp tobacco smoke.
So, Sunday, you should surely change your name
to Glumday, which today would more befit,
and then you would be free of any blame,
and people couldn't be misled by it.
There still remain a few hours of you yet,
so could you please desist from being wet? ☹️

🌧️

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UMPC8QJF6sI&pp=ygUJZ3JleSBzb25n

🌧️🌧️

Plummy

She splits just like a warm and juicy plum,
as digging in he searches for her stone.
His soft insistentcirclingknowing thumb
sends shivers through her, brings a little moan
as fingers slick with juices further go
within, exploring, pushing deeper in,
a kiss to make her sweetness faster flow,
to ooze and drip, to cause her to begin
to swell with ripeness, taut, begin to burst,
though bending head and kissing touch of lips
don't satisfy the urgent pressing thirst
of honeyed plum desire, as fingertips
still search for secret stone – but then no doubt.
His fingers close around it – rip it out!

🍓🍇🍒

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dWYbbxDWbzk&pp=ygULZnJ1aXR5IHNvbmc%3D

🍓

in shades of silver
Fruits... Plums are nice but a luxury here. Quite dear. I love tropical fruits like papaya and bananas. Cheaper and full of goodness so they say

it echoes against the wall
that sound that resounds
yet without words it prevail
like an old signature smeared

a single word or intonation
a slang or an expression
drown out the cocophony that surround
and zoom into that certain zone

the smiles are back
the handkerchief tucked away
but sometimes they come back
like a grooved vinyl  track
❤️‍🩹🍂🍃
https://youtu.be/B9g35fMP8u0?si=8ECt25cJ5ZbAMbUR

it never really goes away, grief, even after acceptance.

Poems aren't made from intentions, but perhaps they can come from hope.

He picks up all his favourite poem words
and puts them in his worn old poem bag.
He shakes them up and tips it up. Like birds
the words come flying out, they zig, they zag,
and then upon the blank, white page they land
in sentences of metred, pretty rhyme.
He looks to see if he can understand
their meaning, what the words have said this time,
but lacking grace, devoid of sense they sit
and chirp their notes, their mad discordant song,
and giving up he must at last admit
today his poem has come out all wrong.
The vital word's not there, it stands apart,
although that word's engraven on his heart.

☕

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obC0MFHWJ0A&pp=ygUPd2hlbiBpIG5lZWQgeW91

🏝️

It's true what you say about grief never going away. It becomes a part of the landscape of our life, in the same way as the background of a painting is always present for the person in the foreground, even if they're not looking directly towards it. We live with it, it becomes a part of us, but onwards down our road we have to go. ☹️

Your island looks lovely. This is the first time I've been envious of a goat.🐐🙃 I could happily laze about on that beach and swim in the sea forever . It's like how I imagined your Blue-Sand Beach to be when I was writing those poems about the Blue-Sand Girl. 🐬
If you have more photos, I'd love to see them all. 🏝️🐬


🏝️🐬

Dancing with a Ghost
the island I went to isn't the greatest. there are others around the same area that are breathtaking. I might go there to just snap some photographs just for you.

purpose buoy up spirits
life goes on, a silly cliche
an excuse to get up and sit
look out the window again

does it matter to the dead
are they free and in elysian garden
playing the harp unconcerned
are our tears just a watering shed

looking back and wishing
things were different in our strength to cope
or we had more time, did something else
but they are just wishes written in tears

its true about grief, its always there in different levels. I miss my mother, very much and of course Gabe and other poets that left us. Will you write a remembrance for me, when its my turn to go... just kidding!

Cold Snap

Now Old Man Winter's blasted through
and everywhere is ice.
Me poor old nose has turned bright blue,
me fingers are the same shade too,
the temperature's not nice!

Alas, this cold is here to stay,
the frostiness appals!
Brass monkeys all have fallen prey
to bitterfreezing winter's day –
it's frozen off their balls!

I must have fifteen jumpers on,
me warmest wooly hat.
The snow is deep upon me lawn,
the birds have said, 'F*ck this!' and gone,
and that for them was that!

And with those birds I quite agree,
in fact, if wings I had,
I would be cryin', 'Wait for me!'
and flappin' off across the sea,
then I'd be feelin' glad,

and I would fly to where it's nice,
a sandygolden isle,
and then with you in paradise,
I'd quite forget this English ice,
and in the sun we'd smile. ☀️🙃

☕☀️


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2U1BhziqzM&pp=ygUTZG93biBieSB0aGUgc2Vhc2lkZQ%3D%3D

❄️⛄


I'll hold you to that. Get yourself off to a sandy island🏝️ and start snapping. Take a million photographs!🙃 if you should come across Mother Crab and her Crablets, be sure to take some of them too🙃 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

When you snuff it, the tragic event will inspire me to write the best eulogy that anyone's ever written for anyone📝. Thomas Hardy's and Douglas Dunn's will pale into insignificance by comparison🙃. Your name will be forever remembered by the world and people will say: 'Ah! He loved her so!' 🙃 However, you're not going anywhere for a good long while yet🙃☀️☕🐬👒

❄️⛄❄️