New art in the Round Room ..... in the round.
Friday, April 19, 2019
POEM ~ Country Agent ~ 20 Apr 2019
Country Agent
Through cobwebs and snakes
the agent trudged
to present a property
that was once much loved
But time rolls by
when people die
kids go to the city
someone must buy
The drone flies around
filming the homestead
once a stone mansion
now more dead
But words is words
and this may sell
to a city slicker
sees heaven in hell
The agency founder
dear departed Dad
once got smart
selling land to be had
Far away on the Moon
along with the title
just go claim
when possible
A chip off the block
why not sell Mars
where Musk plans a city
who could pass?
Its the re-sale value
once its legal
or go build a house
on a SpaceX shuttle
That shack is falling down
but a smart fella bought it
nicely restored
who would believe it?
A country house
in a country town
with a solid wood stove
the buyer's no clown
Back in the office
feet on his desk
the agent wonders
what could be next?
Why not apartments
in an orbital space city
a business plan drafted
the model's a beauty
A website created
all luscious and tempting
an investment of ages
retirement for spending
Dad would be proud
made a mint with the Moon
space cities are bigger
gold with a boom
Don't mind the shower
get a total refit
that tree has a lean
I'll get them to cut it
You want a hill?
The view will amaze
looking over a valley
to endlessly gaze
An old school house
Gothic in stone
could be a gallery
with an interesting home
An apartment in space
with a view of the Earth
time-share the expenses
with an annual berth
Anything's possible
when willing to dream
a tree-change in the country
or riding a Moon beam
Home again by the fire
the flames dance around
dreams of the future
celestial bound
Jaqi
Bluh
Saturday
20
April
2019
Through cobwebs and snakes
the agent trudged
to present a property
that was once much loved
But time rolls by
when people die
kids go to the city
someone must buy
The drone flies around
filming the homestead
once a stone mansion
now more dead
But words is words
and this may sell
to a city slicker
sees heaven in hell
The agency founder
dear departed Dad
once got smart
selling land to be had
Far away on the Moon
along with the title
just go claim
when possible
A chip off the block
why not sell Mars
where Musk plans a city
who could pass?
Its the re-sale value
once its legal
or go build a house
on a SpaceX shuttle
That shack is falling down
but a smart fella bought it
nicely restored
who would believe it?
A country house
in a country town
with a solid wood stove
the buyer's no clown
Back in the office
feet on his desk
the agent wonders
what could be next?
Why not apartments
in an orbital space city
a business plan drafted
the model's a beauty
A website created
all luscious and tempting
an investment of ages
retirement for spending
Dad would be proud
made a mint with the Moon
space cities are bigger
gold with a boom
Don't mind the shower
get a total refit
that tree has a lean
I'll get them to cut it
You want a hill?
The view will amaze
looking over a valley
to endlessly gaze
An old school house
Gothic in stone
could be a gallery
with an interesting home
An apartment in space
with a view of the Earth
time-share the expenses
with an annual berth
Anything's possible
when willing to dream
a tree-change in the country
or riding a Moon beam
Home again by the fire
the flames dance around
dreams of the future
celestial bound
Jaqi
Bluh
Saturday
20
April
2019
NOTE ~ Some people have made money by selling land on the Moon. Just try to claim it. Has anyone sold land on Mars ..... yet. Selling apartments in an orbital space settlement would be a very sound business plan, for an agent with vision ~
https://space.nss.org/settlement/nasa/
Sunday, April 14, 2019
POEM ~ Game of Fences ~ 15 Apr 2019
Game of Fences
Years went by
a daily drudge
digging holes
for posts
no bludge
The farmer hard
whip on back
dawn to dusk
a fencer's lot
life's evil stack
One frozen morn
wire snapped
whipped hard
clipped head
one eyed Jack
Something snapped
farmer vanished
never seen
ever again
years crashed
Decades later
posts rotted
dig out holes
new poles
strange sight spotted
A skeletal hand
struck with the bar
pulled up in the air
and stared at
like a star
The constable came
who knew of a rumour
had another post dug
and found the head
a rather grim humour
One eyed Jack
years of abuses
snapped like a wire
cut up the boss
buried the pieces
Bits down a hole
the fencer's revenge
ending the tyranny
a game of fences
the farmer's end
Ancient in years
old people's home
one eyed Jack
read the news
cackled alone
Years went by
a daily drudge
digging holes
for posts
no bludge
The farmer hard
whip on back
dawn to dusk
a fencer's lot
life's evil stack
One frozen morn
wire snapped
whipped hard
clipped head
one eyed Jack
Something snapped
farmer vanished
never seen
ever again
years crashed
Decades later
posts rotted
dig out holes
new poles
strange sight spotted
A skeletal hand
struck with the bar
pulled up in the air
and stared at
like a star
The constable came
who knew of a rumour
had another post dug
and found the head
a rather grim humour
One eyed Jack
years of abuses
snapped like a wire
cut up the boss
buried the pieces
Bits down a hole
the fencer's revenge
ending the tyranny
a game of fences
the farmer's end
Ancient in years
old people's home
one eyed Jack
read the news
cackled alone
Jaqi
Bluh
Monday
15
April
2019
NOTE ~ Fencing is a hard game, toughening the hands from digging holes for posts, and shedding blood when wire cuts and slashes. A farmer expecting more than a fencer can give, could end in strange places.
Saturday, April 6, 2019
Doggo Wisdoms rocketing away .....
The Doggo Wisdoms have been moved from a board on the wall ..... into a rocket ...... all fuelled up and taking off daily ..... in the Free Range Dog Pound in Second Life .....
"Love my blanket,
smells just fine.
Why wash it?
Another time."
Doggo
Doggo Wisdoms ~
https://stargategrid.forumchitchat.com/post/doggo-wisdom-a-spinoff-from-dogggdays-10086450?pid=1308080858
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
POEM ~ Thorn Bird ~ 4 Apr 2019
Thorn Bird
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Farmer Jack
was a happy chap
with loving wife
of big round eyes
and a dog called Nap
Hard the day
cutting boxthorn
a great swaith of prickle
bloodied hands
clothes torn
Neglected long
this bed of strife
must be cleared
for better use
by order of wife
From crack of dawn
to the midday sun
Jack cut a passage
to the heart of thorns
it was no fun
Then glimpsed a form
strange to see
like a fairy tale sleeper
skin white
in the prickle sea
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Thinking a statue
a work of art
Jack cut deeper
to the sleeper
thorns to part
Naked on bed
as if a grave
one branch away
thorn scratched white skin
blood it gave
Trickled red
down that arm
"Am I mad,
am I bewitched?"
a screamed alarm
Cutting with care
the beauty revealed
asleep to life
in the heart of thorns
no longer concealed
Should kiss those lips
like beauty sleeping
to waken the damsel
from strange slumber
from her dreaming
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Jack staggered back
quite overwhelmed
a kiss would be sex
between those legs
if he delved
His loving wife
with big round eyes
filled his sight
saved his mind
where passion lies
Looking back
the damsel vanished
only a stone to see
went home for lunch
quite astonished
Boxthorn regrew
best left alone
the forest stayed
the heart of thorns
with a sleeping stone
Only one soul heard
the strange encounter
when out with the sheep
Nap was told
the thorny adventure
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Farmer Jack
was a happy chap
with loving wife
of big round eyes
and a dog called Nap
Hard the day
cutting boxthorn
a great swaith of prickle
bloodied hands
clothes torn
Neglected long
this bed of strife
must be cleared
for better use
by order of wife
From crack of dawn
to the midday sun
Jack cut a passage
to the heart of thorns
it was no fun
Then glimpsed a form
strange to see
like a fairy tale sleeper
skin white
in the prickle sea
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Thinking a statue
a work of art
Jack cut deeper
to the sleeper
thorns to part
Naked on bed
as if a grave
one branch away
thorn scratched white skin
blood it gave
Trickled red
down that arm
"Am I mad,
am I bewitched?"
a screamed alarm
Cutting with care
the beauty revealed
asleep to life
in the heart of thorns
no longer concealed
Should kiss those lips
like beauty sleeping
to waken the damsel
from strange slumber
from her dreaming
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Jack staggered back
quite overwhelmed
a kiss would be sex
between those legs
if he delved
His loving wife
with big round eyes
filled his sight
saved his mind
where passion lies
Looking back
the damsel vanished
only a stone to see
went home for lunch
quite astonished
Boxthorn regrew
best left alone
the forest stayed
the heart of thorns
with a sleeping stone
Only one soul heard
the strange encounter
when out with the sheep
Nap was told
the thorny adventure
Snap a prickle
crack of thorn
drag the branch
to the pyre
in the morn
Jaqi
Bluh
Thursday
4
April
2019
NOTE ~ This poem is my take on sleeping beauty. The image is of boxthorn on my land in Tasmania, very old boxthorn. You never know what will be found in there. Clearing the ancient boxthorn at present, and it is hard to avoid blood running from prickled hands. Such long sharp spikes. No lover of people. Boxthorn is from South Africa, transported to Van Diemen’s Land as a hedge plant, but is gleefully removed now’a’days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)