31 poems in 30 days. Napowrimo.

31 poems in 30 days.

Napowrimo.

Has it been good?

Has it been fun?

Successful? Now that it’s done?

We’ll assess success...

I certainly was up to the test.

Managed a sizeable poem every day,

Not always the best; I’ll admit and say.

But I did it.

And feel quite smug.

I really caught the writing bug.

But.

There was a decided lack of credit.

Now, I don’t look for praise and don’t often get it...

Truth is – I was amongst hundreds of other participants

And so, I got lost, I didn’t really ever stand much chance.

I think.

But I’m not really sure.

That I wrote a couple of bits that were

Really quite good.

Didn’t I deserve more hits?

For those good bits?

Whatever.

And as for participant of the day.

Managing a four syllable landay

And an eight word gomolotay

Again. Whatever .  Nuff said.

I really enjoyed the challenge. And thank you all.

All told 7500 odd words (often quite)

My apologies if I wasn’t always polite.

Dave Strong.

x-rated pictures, all x-rated porn

(with my apologies to the faint-hearted)

X-rated pictures, all x-rated porn;

X-rated videos and film.

Even triple-x girls

All on their own website.

How much more is it you need

To feed your appetite?

Now, I know it’s nothing new.

We’ve been over-taxed

By the sexual act.

Since forever.

Just look at Egyptian hieroglyphs

And remember Roman orgy-ists

They wenched and slaved away,

Since before recorded time.

And presumably images scratched and daubed on walls

Were really quite rudely fine.

But we now have the media to record more...

And more.

Then there’s books.

Oh yes.

Shades Of Grey is nothing new.

Fanny Hill, Kama thing, the Perfumed Garden...

DH Lawrence had his Lady Chatting away with the gardener.

Then we come to Emmanuelle

Who gave her Arsan and even other bits

To any man that wanted its.

And she called it female liberty

I call it with incredulity, depravity.

Bless her! But she meant well.

And didn’t hurt anyone.

We have now so moved on.

Now it is just nasty.

Children in playgrounds on their mobile phones;

Can see scenes of sex clips free and on it drones.

We call out for censorship;

And perhaps we get a little bit.

But it is not enough!

Images.

And people get caught up in it all,

A little is not enough, they always want more.

And younger.

Nubile teen and little girl obscene.

The internet treats them as objects of desire,

Without choice and freely ready for hire.

There are people who profit from all this:

I hope their balls shrivel up and cause a lot of pain

Just a little would not be the same.

They resort to the dark web.

Where hidden to only them (at a cost)

Are images that should be gone and lost.

Expunged!

There are paedophiles who create these files.

To them I say..

You disgust me.

I abhor the way you are.

With you gratification and your self-satisfaction.

Next time you cough – I hope your dick drops off.

Bugger it all!

Bugger it all! It’s just so unfair!

Sometimes it seems more than one can bear.

How can a little child be so fragile?

So easily broken?

Children living with leukaemia: it’s all so sad.

Or born with aids – what chance do they have?

In third world countries living in filth and war;

Hunger, disease and even more...

And yet you still see them laughing and playing on the tv...

And now I’m saying just words.

And you glaze over. Yes you!

Bugger you too!

This could so easily affect you!

Illness strikes everyone

Sometimes.

And we recover, yes I know.

But some do not..

In and out of hospital is their lot.

Never completely free of pain.

The unfairness of it all is so insane.

And yet in their serenity they do not complain.

To see someone who is so brave

So quick to smile, so well behaved

So unassuming,  calm and yet seemingly unafraid.

I am awed.

The world is so much a richer, more worthwhile place,

With wonderful kids like these.

But that does not make it right anywhere,

It only exacerbates the unfair.

Now, I’m not asking you to be sad and moribund,

Or dash off to start a charity fund.

Or dedicate yourself to finding a cure.

What do I want? I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

Perhaps all I want is to rant and shout,

Have a chance to let my feelings out.

But then what’s left but to declare..

Bugger it all – it’s so unfair!

Under the undergrowth

Under the undergrowth of society;

Living amid the brambles, the bracken and the bushes.

The flowers, grasses and plants grow and fight

All clamouring for their share of the light..

In the borders and the hedges of human life.

Seeds germinate there constantly

And not all flourish.

Sadly so many wither and perish

And do not stand a chance.

Yet the weeds-with-attitude

They survive in all their plentitude.

And yet so much depends on fate:

What is an environmental state.

Lucky to be born in richer soil?

It helps you can be sure.

There is such an abundance of life,

And a beauty and a reverence.

So many species live in harmony:

Insects, little mammals, invertebrates.

Yet living in the dark corners, in the undergrowth,

There is a vampirical scum.

Feeding on the lives of others, it’s a blight

Elbowing out the good like a parasite.

They do so little that is good

Selfish is there way, they feed

On their violence fear and greed.

They don’t care about the good of all

They only care about themselves

And it’s controlling of these self same choking weeds

That holds the future of our undergrowth needs.

38262

38262 entries who open Summers door;

The cacophony of London Town,

Giving it all what for.

The Tower, Cutty Sark, up the Mall.

It makes you fair burst with pride.

Wonderful amazing people and all

Running along Old Thames side.

There’s always a few Spidermen

And a dalek or three or four

A grandfather clock,

A main in a frock

False boobs and wigs;

A team from London zoo.

Twelve guys from the fire brigade

And bring a ladder do...

38262 stories to tell

Of sweat and tears

Of dreams and fears.

Dedicated to friends they’ve lost

And as well, they count the cost

In blisters and pain and the sores remain.

But memories there are made.

Thousands cheering lining the route

The best of London marathon praised,

Charity millions too are raised,

By the very best of me and you.

All British through and through.

Lady, you are perfection to me

Girl

Lithe and graceful with perfect smooth skin,

Your maturity yet lies within.

Delicate hands, soft hair and bright eyes.

With your easy giggles, your natural confidence.

All must protect such precious innocence.

Woman

You are perfection to me. With the years and motherhood you grow so wise.

Always I never tire of your day’s disguise

The attire of colour and co-ordination

Lace and perfume, I live in constant infatuation.

But clothes are designed to cover the fragility beneath,

And that is the real you;  that I am really attracted to.

Lady

There is such feminine beauty in the way that you are.

Natural and easy, comfortable you.

Wrinkles of crinkly skin,

Laughter lines that long ago begin

You struggle a bit with your age; and then just a bit more.

And I know it’s not easy being a lady growing older..

Until laughter lights up your face

And then the age goes without a trace

And you are a girl again.

Over the hill?

Over the hill?                                                                      (ANNOYED/VEHEMENTLY)

What do you mean over the hill?

I could still race you to that tree over there... yeah?

Or make it 5K away..

Bet you wouldn’t even make it... I would!

Over the hill?

What do you mean over the hill?

Give me your Morry’s shopping list.

Make it 30 items, say..
And I could add it up in my head.

Bet you couldn’t even do that... I could!

Over the hill?

Oh!... You mean that hill over there?...                                  (OOPS!  SUDDEN CALM)

Oh!  I see what you mean... ah... yes...

               

There’s always a new challenge.

I always want to see what’s over the next hill..

What is in the next town; the next country.

I want to see it all.

I have spreadsheets. Oh yes, I do spreadsheets.

Austria: fly to Salzburg; Alp around; then train to Vienna and Schloss abound.

Sweden: fly to Stockholm; then train to Tromso; arctic circle and surround.

Canada: Fly to Montreal  only  £425 return.

Youth hostels all the way. Oh yes. I prefer that type of stay.

All-adventuring me. Sometimes, when I can afford...

Alone travelling and blogging.

As I go.

And yes. I’m afraid of going over the hill...

But.

Just because I’ve lost my hair.

And my back creaks: just there...

And I have trouble remembering the right words and where

They go.

Doesn’t mean that....

Umm... er... what was I saying?                                                 (LOST FOR WORDS)