BogRhymes

Moaning and groaning, but not taking action.
We talk the best fight, you will hear.
Quick to condemn, but quicker relaxing.
How we gained independence? Unclear.

Is it when Dearmud Gavin
Fears his garden won’t happen?
Or is it when Sepp Blather
Can’t get any madder?
Is it when special needs
Aren’t treated so special?
Or is it when cucumbers
Aren’t eaten, but threaten?

This was the first really calm and long evening,
This year.
A thrush belted out a song with meaning,
So clear.

My pen is my weapon
And I keep it in my pocket
So when I go stepping out,
I’ve always got it.
I find a piece of paper,
And a few minutes later,
Something gets created
From the rhyme maker.
As a consequence,
I tend to sit on the fence
So when you pass by,
Don’t catch my eye, or else.
Because it’s my addiction
To watch people and listen
While they’re talking,
Walking or kissing.
Strolling through the city,
I’m just like Walter Mitty.
Another persona,
To compose another ditty.
Then I adjust the contrast,
Build it strong enough to last.
Find a few snakes,
To place in your grass.
Apathy, sympathy,
Both of them attract to me.
Frustration,
Debate and,
Foolish flattery.
Home thoughts from abroad,
Or broad thoughts from near.
The frivolous, ridiculous,
Delight and fear.
Grief, relief,
Anger and boredom.
You may disagree,
Just don’t ignore them.

Neil made us feel,
Helpless.
Robin describes well,
Helplessness.
Folks who dig one of these songs,
Might like
Both,
I guess.

The wind has been blowing now
For so long,
And so strong.
I can’t remember the last time it was still.
I’ve become rather sick of it.
It’s gone on,
For too long.
Time for the wind to chill.

This past week,
I have had,
A hectic week,
A week a bit mad.
It ended with a funeral.
It started with a wedding,
In between,
A christening…
Wreck heading!

We’re having a feast of guests,
Sometimes, a famine is best.
A while ago, the Dalai Lama,
Now it’s the Queen, and Obama.

One word for his name
One word for his game

We live in a Republic
Or do we?
We think we do,
As history tells us.
We stink we do,
As history tells us.
We accept so much
Bloody shit,
We detect so little,
We are tits.
I wonder if,
We were to grow up
Into adults,
And show up.
And announce to the world,
This is a republic true.
Would the world care?
Would they..?
Would you?

Rain falls lightly, but helps in the drama,
Our April bog fires are lightly drenched.
Obama et al, watch the murder of Bin Laden,
And for a while, his nation’s thirst is quenched.

Chestnut trees have lit their candles,
The witches’ lace are stitched.
And whitethorn takes on the baton,
As the blackthorn now is ditched.
Dandelion seeds preparing to fly,
While the elder mimics the rowan.
The daisies are lazy and low lie,
They all bring a light of their own.

Passing the buck, whilst hand wringing,
We can’t even give it up for lent!
Loads of gold medals we’d be winning,
Were it only an Olympic event!

I couldn’t capture it on camera…
Pure abracadabra..!

Some people write stuff,
Some people – nothing much.
Some people think,
That they’ll never have enough.

Some people draw lines,
Some people they draw blanks.
Some people – so blind…
And some people, run banks.

Some people are nice,
Some people make your day.
Some people throw dice,
And then… they run away.

We have zombie banks,
We have ghost estates.
We have bankers with necks,
That don’t tend to break.

We have gobshite politicians
Who follow and don’t lead.
We have no need to protest,
We settle and reseed.

We live from week to week
We dream of better days.
We hope each month to seek,
A month just to amaze.