Bard Stuff - I, Poet Series, Vol 2 Read online

  AARDVARK

  We’re familiar with horses and animals aplenty,

  With dogs and cats we’re complimentary,

  Though with elephants and lions we’re a little more careful,

  And monkeys and things are particularly delightful,

  But though everyone has heard of the aardvark thing,

  Few of us know what makes it zing,

  Even what it looks like we’re not very sure,

  Whether it’s rare or plentiful we can’t ensure,

  Infact, the only thing we’ve known all along,

  Is its habitat is the encyclopedia, page one

  YORKSHIRE-EESE

  Diz thee ‘ere whet a’say,

  Wi’me words on’t display,

  Tarkin’ like people dee,

  Livin’ ‘ere ner t’me?

  Ar’s askin’ ‘cos I used t’tark,

  Jus’ like this, an it’s nay lark,

  Allers avin’ te repeat me words,

  Gettin’ more sense outta’t birds;

  So’s if iver yer meet ‘em from m’land,

  ‘Old out a frindly ‘and,

  Says noo’then, ‘ow diz thee de?

  And ar’ll sez, aye, noo, dis’thee yan some tea?

  SPECTRAL IMAGES

  It flickers, brightly, then goes out,

  Something there, no doubt,

  Go a bit closer, take a peek,

  Knowledge, novelty, always seek;

  Definite activity – see it there,

  On the verge of sentient glare,

  Soon to blossom, come out to us,

  Join the vibe, universal buzz;

  Time to meet – let them join the club,

  No longer spectral, in the hub,

  Landing now, they seem very tense,

  Hello humans, we’re your friends

  FORK IN THE ROAD

  Left after right, walking on,

  Not looking around; not singing a song,

  Come to a fork – do I turn this way or that?

  Such decisions – getting to the fact;

  If only I’d been told what to do,

  For me the options are so very few;

  Robots do only what their programs pledge,

  And that’s why I walked straight into the hedge

  DON’T RHYME

  I’m stuck in a rut,

  I know I am,

  My poems are fine,

  But they always rhyme;

  I’m trying not to,

  There are other ways,

  Plenty of forms,

  Words that don’t rhyme …

  In my mind they cram,

  It’s just how I am

  (damn)

  But getting them out,

  And putting them on paper,

  And forming lines that

  … don’t

  Well, you know what I mean,

  It’s sometimes obscene

  (blast)

  But I love things that rhyme,

  They have such a chi …

  (nearly)

  But I’m trying my best,

  Blank verse I’ll rehearse,

  And you know?

  I’ll try,

  Really try,

  To write poems with more care

  So there!

  ROBIN

  As a child I remember well,

  Owning a Robin – it was swell,

  I’d often play with it all day,

  And I often wondered what it would say;

  Full of zest, a colourful thing,

  Although I never heard it sing,

  Its confidence would never dissolve,

  You could feel its total resolve;

  But it often felt a trinket, and no more,

  Always the sidekick was a chore,

  Not only to me, but Batman, too,

  Bashed about, held together by glue

  THAT’S FUNNY

  Knock, knock, who’s there; I say, I say, I say,

  This is a fun verse – do you want to play?

  What do you get if … ? Well, you know how it goes,

  Sometimes the joke is corny; gets right up your nose;

  Slap stick, stand up, so many types of fun,

  Clowns fire streamers from their big toy gun;

  From stage or screen or big top, laughter rings out,

  As tomfoolery goes on forever; ‘he’s behind you!’ we shout;

  A serious business is comedy, you certainly can’t deny,

  It offers us a choice to laugh, or give in and cry

  A SMELLY ONE

  Pungent smells, they’re always here,

  Sparking memories of something dear,

  Or maybe they are not so nice,

  Memory of a mistake or vice;

  Often they can be predictive, too,

  Warning you not to enter that loo,

  Or a perfume smelling oh so nice,

  She’s coming for yet another tryst;

  But a sense of smell is often defective,

  With people sniffing, as if detectives;

  What’s that? Where’s it from? Oh, phew!!

  Oh dear. Is it you?

  GREEN

  Phantoms & Shadows … A Summer’s Day … Organ Nick … Home Planet … Our Future Is Space

  PHANTOMS & SHADOWS

  Shadows fall upon mind, bringing melancholy;

  Memories of a time now gone,

  Cripple the sense of completion;

  What was good, now only phantoms, unbalanced,

  Defeating, destroying …

  Remembrance fading of eons past,

  Before he walked on two legs,

  Grasped thought,

  Produced tech,

  Did this to me,

  Your planet

  A SUMMER’S DAY

  The sun, it burns, so very bright,

  Enabling life, no respite,

  Forever glowing, bringing heat,

  Making the planet so complete;

  A summer’s day is testament to this,

  We look up, feel total bliss,

  Happy that it will go on forever,

  Allowing for our great endeavour;

  Yet summer days can come too soon,

  Bringing heat to make us swoon,

  Especially if we change the air,

  Trapping sunlight, causing despair,

  ’Til summer’s day will never end,

  And our endeavours go on to lend,

  The seed of destruction of an angry sun,

  Burnt to a crisp, life’s no longer fun

  ORGAN NICK

  Don’t you love him, he plays so well,

  Organ or piano, he’s just swell,

  Arranging notes in harmony,

  His own remarkable symphony;

  Music is so sublime and true,

  Its vibes washing over you,

  The musician playing in sympathy,

  Everything fits organically;

  An audial reflection of nature’s chime,

  All as one, a perfect rhyme;

  We love our music attuned and pure,

  So why make nature’s music poor?

  HOME PLANET

  I look to the sky, the blue, blue sky,

  A golden orb, so very high

  Home …

  So why do I have a carbon footprint?

  I look to the wild, nature’s raw child,

  Flora and fauna, so mild

  Home …

  So why do I allow extinction?

  I look to my lifestyle, all the while,

  Hoping to live, spawn child

  Home …

  So why do I allow pollution?

  I look to the future, I don’t want it to change,

  So why do I …?

  Why do I collude?

  Home

  Leave it alone

  It’s my …

  Home

  OUR FUTURE IS SPACE

  Space, space, there’s stars to chase,

  The ultimate role o
f the human race;

  What are we doing sat on this Earth,

  Stuck in a frightful, boring dearth,

  Of courage, of vigour, of get up and go,

  Infatuated by celebs called so and so;

  Wake up mankind! Realise your mission,

  There’s more to life than your car’s transmission;

  Time to stop selfishness, mass consumerism, too,

  Time for daring, curiosity to renew;

  So gather the CEOs and other toffs,

  Put ‘em in a rocket, and blast ‘em off!

  CRIMINAL

  The Spirit of the Law … Serpent … Thirteen Lines

  THE SPIRIT OF THE LAW

  Argument For

  The law I certainly don’t impute,

  But has it to be so absolute;

  Often actions that are incurred,

  Can be, as to intent, quite blurred;

  Now I know the villain is easy to catch,

  The police offering quite a match;

  Yet often intent is not so clear,

  Making illegal something to fear,

  When really it was not meant to be,

  And the law should show some leniency

  Argument Against

  I see at times you have a case,

  And legal minds can act with haste;

  But laws are there to be obeyed,

  Or civil society, it will fade;

  There is a right way to always be,

  But some people break the law with glee;

  We must be sure to lock them up,

  When from the devil’s brew they sup;

  So now found guilty by your peers,

  As the Judge, take him Down!

  Ten years

  SERPENT

  Serpent slithers around the tree,

  Placing evil thoughts in thee;

  Serpent gets deep within your mind,

  Leaving desires for you to find;

  Serpent advises what you’ll do,

  It’s hard to fight, this is so true;

  Serpent coils to make you play,

  Wrapping around to make you stray;

  It’s your double-helix DNA

  THIRTEEN LINES

  Thirteen lines of poetry

  Not many, but maybe enough to see,

  The events that happened I don’t know when,

  To the person, dead before ten;

  Was it murder? It surely must,

  Footprints – there! – in the dust;

  Weapon found by his side,

  Now the detective, he does pry,

  Into the circumstances of his lot,

  The reasons why he was surely shot,

  Well before it was his time;

  So, who was it – who dun this crime?

  Ah! If only I had another line …

  About the Author

  1955 (Yorkshire, England) – I am born (Damn! Already been done). ‘Twas the best of times … (Oh well).

  I was actually born to a family of newsagents. At 18 I did a Dick Whittington and went off to London, only to return to pretend to be Charlie and work in a chocolate factory.

  When I was ten I was asked what I wanted to be. I said soldier, writer and Dad. I never thought of it for years – having too much fun, such as a time as lead guitarist in a local rock band – but I served nine years in the RAF, got married and had seven kids. I realized my words had been precognitive when, at age 27, I came down with M.E. – a condition I’ve suffered ever since – and turned my attention to writing.

  My essays are based on Patternology, or P-ology, a thought process I devised to work as a bedfellow to specialisation. Holistic, it seeks out patterns the specialist may have missed. The subject is not about truth, but ideas, and covers everything from politics to the paranormal.

  I also specialise in Flash Fiction in all genres, most under 600 words, but also Mini Novels - 1500 word tales so full they think they're bigger.

  Connect with Anthony

  Smashwords Author page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/anthonynorth

  Anthony's Website: https://anthonynorth.com/

  Anthony's Blog (inc current affairs): https://anthonynorth.com/blog/blog

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/anthonynorth

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anthony.north.330