B-Town

Brighton Bounty

Check this out!

Good friend does shout,

From the handstand nation,

To sea brains of the operation,

Though topsy turvey,

Not one ounce pervy,

More admiration of technique,

Than bare faced cheek,

Good times assured in Sussex county,

Reaping the wheat of Brighton bounty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A good friend moved to Brighton a few years ago, with his lovely lady friend and many resplendent trips have been had down Brighton town since (and Hove). The inspiration for this cheeky number came from the very first trip, the first time in a good while when the lads got together to cause a serious dent in the number of alcoholic beverages of that good town. And dent we did, with an all day sesh and a power hour thrown into the mixer the subsequent re-birth launched the meaning of this right up in my grill. One love B-dog!

Word

Shattered Habit 

Idle hands work, yet another drink poured,

Joint fresh rolled, pleas from sanity ignored,

Repeated routine, the same old here's,

We live for the moment that spans the years,

Fooling ourselves that this is a good path,

Notice not its grasp, slow poisoned heart,

While those good times hold, we sit, we laugh,

Proclaim that our great stupidity's smart,

Stagnation where wisdom should grow,

That day of dreams shall remain ever elusive,

With our minds left wild, left too long fallow,

Nothing from procrastination turns conclusive,

It's time to put those hard etched habits away,

It's time, for me at least, to seize this day.

Boo Drizzle

Miserable Isle Weather

Is this the power of nature?

A limp rag of weather smears the land.

Nothing to inspire awe, enforce respect,

Just a test of patience, dour to withstand,

The lurking threat as offensive as the act itself,

The promise that cancels most outdoor activities,

So it is to the inner world we turn our views,

Remain chipper of sprit, fester new creativies,

With these new avenues of joy to explore,

Discovery of fresh complexities expands pride,

Helping to forget the dire drizzle of our country,

But just remember, when it's sunny, go outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that much super shiny sun time the inevitable British weather machine churns out some extra arse drizzle for all to enjoy. Ooh it just makes cycling those miles between work and home that much more fun! But I suppose with no down there is no up. Peace.

The Last Of The Stockpile

Word Smithin'

Word smithin' with my favourite ally

From the ether these words I pry

Cloak and dagger as the boss might spy

Disciplinary, questions why?

Expand your mind these lines I try

Let your thoughts take to the sky

Arching through clouds free to fly

Cannot I have this to help me by?

No.

Back to work hippy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is indeed the last of the stockpile, well I say last what I mean is last that I deem good enough to put out to the electronic public. You will see a noted dip in posts, by my reckoning about two to three postings a week. So save your hurried, must see, cutting edge clickings up for a mini poetry break at one point in your week. I'd recommend a nice cup of tea, even if you drink coffee, a relax and let the words work their magic. Big love.

Shattered

(avoiding punctures)

Cunning's the daggers of roads we travel,

High times of the foolish they do unravel,

Always alert of eyes, these traps to spy,

Their numeracy a test of patience to try,

For getting anywhere on roads unscathed,

A task; amusement for the misbehaved,

Each scattering a trial, tribulations bore,

Shards swept, for eager replacements more,

With their taint befouling the land insipid,

Easy to let rage engulf, speeding thoughts decrepit.

Be swift of motion, with perceptions keened,

To avoid the dilemma's of miscreants weaned,

Ready your packs for to travel is a must,

To keep a soul sane, sate that wanderlust,

But carry a repair kit, prepare your load,

For there will always be punctures out on the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Believe it or not this was written after getting a puncture! Well it was my first one in 9 months of riding to work so I shouldn't be too peeved, but the amount of glass out on the roads now is silly. Don't people know how to use bins? Or more importantly recycle? Jeebsquous, bloody heuligans.

Late Delivery

A Time To See

To stand still in this frantic world,

Begets remarks of hatred churl,

As they rush so pure of goal,

I exclaim, do you not see this whole?

So desperate you are, to want to get,

That you cannot possibly have found yet,

That beauty of this life we hold.

With fear and pace they turn old,

To forget the joys of a world laid bold,

Natures activities are its gold.

To be witness you must observe,

A steadiness to still its nerve,

With the exuberance of calm,

Cede to possibilities of inquisitive charm,

Receive delight, a gift that humbles,

Those city wide, shallow gaited stumbles,

To those lives of haste I wish to sway,

For ten minutes out of your hectic day,

Is nary too high a price to pay,

So bestill yourself, watch your stay,

Warmth of reward for this delay,

Will colour your life in wondrous way,

Noting if this time luck gifts you sorrow,

Fear thee not, there's always tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is Friday's post a wee bit late. What can I say? Friday night, lengthened of light with half a fart of wind and some glorious sun shine with someone awesome uttering the magical word 'Bar-Bee-Que'. It was time for some meat, heat and love with drinkies to biggedy boot. Big time. And what a splendid spread it was! :)

Glory Days

Unhidden Joy of Sunny Days

Cradled in the warmth of her mighty gaze,

For light to enjoy her world I give much praise,

Days like these open the conquering of quests,

Stretch out my mind to discover new tests,

Smite the daemons that darkness does bring,

This is indeed a day to run, to laugh, to sing,

Smiles are creased into faces all around,

Comfort in these lengthened days abound,

So put down your burdens, come walk with me,

Adventures in this land our pleasure to see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To mark the Bee-A-Eutiful spurt of weather we've been having a poem fresh off the press. Few things are nicer than a wonderfully sunny day :)

Work?! When the Sun Shines? Madness.

Unnecessarily Necessary Tedium

Bored, I must conclude,

Do not let sleep intrude

As the repetition starts to grate

My mind frays at a worrying rate,

Knowing the next;

Line of text;

Has been written for me,

Lack of input to write and be free.

Eyes to the horizon, await the weekend,

Where freedom lives and my mind can mend;

The evening too temporary a reprieve

To repair fully, I believe;

Thoughts dragged back to the idea of tomorrow

Knowing the same shade of grey, fills my sorrow.

Institutioned to the corporation is a growing fear,

With each day is a step too near.

So I fill my mind with ideas grand

Sate the urge of my imagination's demand.

Happy here in my dreamscape

From my tedium it's my escape.

The form my fear now takes, the delusion,

That my dreams shall remain illusion;

Have I placed the bar too high?

As this fear looms I sigh.

Fatigued from the long road travelled

Hoping truly that my mind's not yet unravelled,

Knowing that I've still to cover many miles

Before I've passed these trials.

So to my next step I look to place,

Responsibilities of effort I must face

To excuse the sacrifices I've made;

The price weighty, I'm sure I've paid

It's time to ignore the fears in my mind

The reality of my dreams I'm sure to find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well what a sublime day it was today :) Mons. Sun had his hat and his corn cob pipe firmly on and in, whistling a happy tune for all to enjoy (no small task mit a corn cob on the go, but the old shiner has got himself some mad skills). It was truly glorious out there, so looking at it through a window whilst sitting at a desk was unfair to the utmost! Personally I think that when it gets over a certain level of shininess all work should be optional; with full pay (invest in sun cream companies ;). At least the cycle home was a true joy and the climb after a sweaty mess. Much fun to be had on such days!

Poetic Discipline

Misplaced Blame

A sonnet for good friends whom I love as family.

I stare up at you through eyes of shock,

Why was it that you allowed me drop?

You were supposed to stand as my rock,

To catch my stumbles, to help me stop,

But I fear I've garnered too much weight,

Asked you to carry much against your will,

Now my burden has affected your gait,

It came to you to offer that bitter pill,

Hoping that my rave it will help to sedate,

Knowing well this timing will always be ill,

I find again, I have misplaced my blame,

For now I see through heavy eyes of shame,

Fault does not belong at your door at all,

Next time I'll try that much harder not to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was an attempt at a sonnet, I nallsed the rhyming scheme right up but have, more or less, hit the syllabic count so for a first attempt at a recognised poetic structure nee too bad. This was also written just after a sizable climbing fall, with the original purpose of saying 'Hey bud, it's not your fault.' but then evolved, as these things do, into something a little deeper. As I know I can be a bit of a mental and emotional burden more often and not, so I just wanted to put into form that I'm trying my hardest buddies! That and everything my friends do for me is always much appreciated, even if it may not seem that way at the time :)

Muff respek.

Sunny Weekend

Climb on?

I thought;

Just in case I should,

I knew that I could,

So I thought I would;

These things must be done;

Now it has begun

Can it be halted?

Can it be faulted?

Held high exalted?

Nary a cheek insulted?

Fingers may bleed,

To sate the need,

To climb so free,

Me and thee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the last weekend in Cardiff cracking open a fresh tin of sunshine I ventured out with my seasoned climbing buddy for our first of the year outdoor climbing sesh; I thought this little number most apt. Big love.

Colourful Language

My Favourite Colour

You could spend many an hour,

Extolling the richness of reds,

With their seductive scarlet’s,

Captivating crimsons, moody mauve’s,

Beguile to me the beauty of blues,

The multi-tonal hues of the sea’s,

The ethereal majesty of the skies,

Naturalist’s out there might make a case,

For the crumbly, earthy browns,

Its affluence of life clear for all to see,

A few among you could even twist my ear,

To the golden qualities of yellow;

Attack me at a weak spot opting opinions orange,

Or even try your hand to convince,

That purple through violet is where,

I should be plumbing the depth of my affections.

What’s more is, at most, I’d agree with you,

On every point you propose,

I’d linger in the joys of every shade,

Absorb their virtue for all they can give,

For all they add to the spectrum's beauty.

Yet, when all is said and done,

My favourite colour, is still green.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written after a polite rejection, my heart was tired of shallow excuses when reading between those gaping lines I just wasn't her cup of tea. A perfectly understandable thing but dressed up so as my heart sees hope where hers thinks things have been sown up nicely. This is probably as far as it'll get with the whole heart issues; otherwise we're in for some serious angst, which is no good for person or piglet.