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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Thu Mar 06, 2008 10:36 am    Post subject: John Kelly Reply with quote

Hello folks, just like to say thanks to all those who made this site available, must say I do feel rather like the schoolboy going reluctantly to school, but methinks somehow that will pass, just like the .......

Virtual blues

Autumn mist surrounds the dawn
woodpecker pecks on emerald lawn
as I search in vain for faults amongst the garden lights
wondering if I've blown it yet again.
Me and my big mouth
more trouble than a bar of drunks
stumbling from day to day
in ghost like fashion
with an air of arrogance
that would make the heavens weep
tears of pity
that would be wasted
on fools like me.
Yet somewhere I hear your laugh
and love arises
tho' I thought it lost,
shall we meet again
and laugh out loud beside the madding world
and cast aside our woes from weary years
and play like no one ever played
one chord
that lays to rest a thousand thoughts or more.

And there beside the dark damp winter wood
where strings joined hearts like words just never could
and notes rang free with sweet refrain
It felt like I'd come home at last
to laugh with you again.
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David Taylor



Joined: 15 Nov 2007
Posts: 254
Location: Sutton, Surrey, UK

PostPosted: Thu Mar 06, 2008 11:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hello John.
A very warm welcome...

This "school" to which you say
with some reluctance you came today
is full of the laughter that you found
in dark damp wood that lay around.
Your poem is an entrance made
with such beauty, love and grace,
I for one hope that you will stay
and strike more chords inside our hearts
that with such homely joy you bring
to make all our hearts that same music sing.

_________________
David
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Fri Mar 07, 2008 10:33 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

[quote="David Taylor"]Hello John.
A very warm welcome...


Hi David,
thank you for the warm welcome
to the new shool in spring
where sometimes the hand just writes
uncovered rhymes in bits and bytes
sitting still in this new class
thoughts they come and then they pass
like sand inside an hour glass
they slip and slide away
hey hey hey
wonder what I'll learn today.

John.
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 5:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Today there was a peace march in London against knife crime so
it seems appropriate to post......
this was lying unfinished and forgotten on the hard drive and brought back to life after reading the Plato thread on Knife Crime.

The Rapper's Curse

Rapping words aint no fun
When tempting you with a knife or gun
And all your good just comes undone
All alone you just become
Another prisoner number,
Take him away the Judge he sighs
As tears fall from your mother's eyes.

With a fool's lost mind that turns to guns
Taking lives of beloved sons
In the prison you'll just sweat
Long lonely days if ill regret
You killed your brother now pay the price
But be warned now that it aint nice
Banged up bawled at, the bloody fights
Watch your back when out go the lights.

Now inside you are all alone
A once kind heart is turned to stone
Darkness in the mind is grown
When twisted words in there are sown
And strange ideas become your own,
And you believe them.

Locked behind the jailers gate
Somehow you wake but all to late
As light falls through the cold steel bars
And pains your conscience full of scars
Now you wish you'd turned your cheek
On so called respect so dark and weak.

You want "Respect" but don't show any
One twisted word is one too many
Pretending you know what the word it means
You stain the world with dreadful scenes
So out of tune you cannot detect
What it means, you just neglect.

Perhaps to-day you will hear instead
Your clear conscience within your head
And save your self from the jury's dread
Of twisted words, believed in lies
That covers your soul in a thin disguise
Like a nightmare figure that steals your eyes,
You should know by now, it will get far worse
If you get fooled,
By the Rapper's Curse.


Last edited by John Kelly on Thu Sep 25, 2008 8:15 pm; edited 2 times in total
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Mon Sep 22, 2008 1:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

after watching a programme about the Troubles.

Lilting Tongues

We were not English in our youth
Nor Irish with a lilting tongue
We knew no difference in faith
When we were lovely free and young.

But we grew up and thoughts possessed the mind
And wanting what we thought we'd lost
Made clear eyes turn blind
And with our bullets blasted love and law
And killed our own in kind
With blood upon our hands and brows we taught our kids the same,
And never knowingly
We sow the seeds of pain.

But freedom lies on other shores
Past bullets bombs and bloody scores
Where Spirit flies and love restores,
Your heart to me,
Across the hills and rocky shores
I long to be.

In violent minds the truth is spun
Another bullet from a gun
Lays to rest a mothers son
Another bomb another blast
Across the mind the shadow's cast
Now all you do is from the past.

But freedom lies on other shores
Past bullets bombs and bloody scores
Where Spirit flies and love restores,
Your heart to me,
Across the hills and rocky shores
I long to be.


Last edited by John Kelly on Fri Sep 26, 2008 2:09 pm; edited 1 time in total
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Thu Sep 25, 2008 3:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Apprentice Wordsmith

A master poet may compose
Lines of words in see through rows
But the apprentice's clumsy mind don't knows
Why you can't say that when writing prose
Or why affinatives don't get rit in split,
Because it's written, there's no such word as rit,
Or why some words are made out of grit.
So books in verse unfold each day
Learning what, just not to say,
Opening dictionaries a word to find
The perfect one within the mind.

The Scouser's almost incoherent tongue
Slipped from lips when I was young
But now in Cockney twang are wrung
Coz darn Sarf London I woz brung
From Liverpool's noxious gas works streets
And the Mystery park where we swapped sweets,
Or by the big Cathedral where we played
Or on bomb sites all disarrayed,
On the Mersey's banks where the wooly back greets
Huge sailing ships with billowing sheets
Of hand made sails that filled with wind
Then sailed off silent, to sunsets dimmed,
I wonder why you can't say beginned,
Coz the teacher always said begun,
But never said that writing's fun...
How come some times my tense gets mixed?
'bout time I got my time warp fixed...
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Sat Sep 27, 2008 9:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Special thanks to RW for coaxing this one into life.
He sent, The imperfect actor on a stage (Shakespeare sonnet)
via email. I read it and re-read it, trying to fathom it's meaning.
Unsure, I wrote a tongue in cheek letter to William
to try and unravel the wires in the mind,
and hopefuly make the connection within......

The Imperfect Electrician

Dear Mr. Shakespeare,
I feel as though the imperfect electrician on stage and page.
And seeing that you know me better than I know my self is clear
Gives rise to some unknown, unwanted fear
At times with power, bucking like a wild unbroken horse
Lending strength to tongue tho' often course,
And all alone I sit and sometimes wonder why
How come you know me better,
Than I know I?

And yet here I sit a March filled stormy monday morn,
The wind's a-howling like some giant's breaking in the dawn
And pluck out words from whence I know not where
It's the only time I just can't seem to find a worldly care
Tho' time is passing, with the teeth and falling hair,
The toolbag gets heavier with each passing week
March and still I haven't learned to turn full cheek
To wisdoms words that give strength and light to all who seek.

And yet, a poets guise is something sometimes yearned
Or is this just some escape from something I've not yet learned?
For when at school your words so so strange and earthly cold,
But what do un-wise schoolboys think when they grow old?
Searching for some lines, as yet not yet read or told
For in my teenage way, I thought a poet had no place,
But seeing that is just a line that rhymes without grace,
When the light unfolds without a switch,
Around your face.

Yours Thoughtfuly
John
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Thu Oct 02, 2008 9:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Led by The Muse?

Today I was found by a book
Waiting patiently on the shelf
Amongst the bric-a-brac,
Next to a Beatles book of songs;
Vases trinkets by row and row
Hardbound and clean as though
Had never read a human eye
Scripted calligraphy in bold style....
Thought I could read in cafe awhile,
Waiting for the builder
Got a bloody parking ticket tho'
£50... just let it go...

And so this book
It danced it shook
Grabbed a hold as if by hook
My hand
£4....thank you...bye.

Got it home Carole looked
"It's very famous", while she cooked,
I browsed a page and wowed when found,
King Alfred made it Old English sound
Worth a swap for fifty pound
When hidden treasure's all around;

Boethius: Consolation of Philosophy.

Forward by Brian Keenan,
Lebanese prisoner.

Never heard of Beothius before this day.

Thank you.
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 1:23 pm    Post subject: City Towers Reply with quote

The City Towers

The City towers are falling, yet some fat cats are still being paid
They pack their bags and scramble, from the chaos that they have made
While our children kill on streets with minds that seem so lost
And the merchants close their eyes and go counting up the cost
As all around the world, the walls come crashing down
While professors speak so softly from deep inside their gown
As the banker builds his vaults and fills it with his jewels
And points his finger coldly, and says the Priests are fools
But we’ve heard it from the past; we’ll hear it yet again
Houses built on sand will tumble with the rain
But the merchants who deal in debts
Will build them up again.


Between the news in flashes the Archbishops speak their views
But no- one is there to hear them, they speak to empty pews
As the youths are led to prison and lost inside the gate
And mothers cry their greif for their son’s now empty fate
And all the politicians scramble for a seat inside the rain
Spinning words for voters trying to catch their train
While the mothers in the graveyard stand frozen- like winters icy frost
Starved of love and kindness that so many have now lost.


Out in the lonesome churches the light through stained glass shines
And falls upon the choir who sing softly their new lines,
The news is bringing heart aches the aging poet sighs
All this blood and thunder is choking up the skies
And shaking at foundations of what are built on lies
And the lonesome father figure,
Carries a question in his eyes.

The city streets are choking the taxi driver feints
As a man inside a sheepskin sits on his roof and paints
A sign to those above, his sheep are now for sale
You can see them in the auction house - tied tightly to a rail
The auctioneer he rattles- millions by the score
As the art collector checks his wallet, to purchase just one more
And the lonesome father figure
Hands out clothes to passing poor.





The carnival it stutters- the band play out of key
As traders in their jackets walk by with signs of me
Emblazoned upon their backs for the entire world to see,
As the chaos just gets deeper, the darkness grows as wide
A sparking- stuttering lamppost fails to stem the lamp black tide
A traffic warden passes- writing debts inside her book
And the lonesome father figure
Knows not which way to look

The city walls are crashing the paths obscured by dust
And the blind just lead the blind, blinded by mistrust
As the teacher with her virtue allows a child to smile
But the razor sharp headmistress is counting all the while
And the builders charge a ransom to put right a wreck just bodged
While those that don’t speak English pull smiles at questions dodged,
Out in the fields of battle, a blind eye causes grief
And the lonesome father figure
Is lost without belief

Out on the grassy slopes the farmer’s son he sings
And whistles to his dog as home the sheep he brings
But father in the pasture sheds tears for all the lifeless weeds
That he was forced to nurture - in place of natures seeds
And the rusty tractor blades-now blunted by buried stones
Are used to shear the sheep- and scrape meat from off their bones
And the lonesome father figure:
A prayer at last intones
Praying for forgiveness
For the blind eyes that he turned
And all the words of wisdom
That in his heart he spurned.

Out in the morning cafes breakfast time confers
On all the passing tradesmen and chauffeured connoisseurs
The taste of tea on tongues or costly brewed liqueurs
Served up cold by dealers all dressed as monsieur’s
And all the while they tumble, concreted walls unfold
Built of paper tokens and tons of fool’s false gold
Just like the ancient wise, with certainty foretold,
And the lonesome father figure- whose heart at last admits
As the judge without a jury his shattered mind a quits,
Twas just a play that fooled you,
Passing shadows who thought they ruled;
For the lonesome father figure
In ignorance he was schooled.
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 5:37 am    Post subject: Colchester Reply with quote

June in Hythe, Colchester

Down in Hythe by the river side
Where the reeds are growing five feet wide
Cherries hanging from fruitful tree
By the allotments, tended so lovingly
Swallows glide by in harmony
In the meadows by the town.

Within the park by the Roman Keep
Stands a cold grey stone in history deep
From the civil war that made men weep,
Up on the hill the view is wide,
As the sunsets orange at evening tide.

Buildings yawn from ancient times
Creaking gables, coloured limes
Roman wall built with hands
All since passed like shifting sands
Sagging rooftops on the move,
But to the eye they still approve.


Twisted oaks no longer square
Hold up walls of horses’ hair
Mixed with plaster centuries old
Changing shape like molten gold,
Walls leaning, moving through the years
Fill builders’ minds with sinking fears.

In Colchester town where time recedes
On Roman walls now grown with weeds,
History calls from building shapes
In coloured forms of architectural drapes,
Up on the hill the view is wide,
As the sunsets orange at evening tide.
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Peter Blumsom



Joined: 09 Mar 2007
Posts: 1104
Location: Wembley, London, UK

PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 9:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Monsieur Kelly,

Hope you don't mind me clambering over the leaning walls into your domain, but this poem I found extremely evocative and clear, and to this untutored soul at least, easily the best thing I've heard from you, (and as good as any of the originals on this site).

John Boonham, I'm sure would recognise his home town, oops, City, here as a gentle counterpoint to its mad cap drivers, of whom he is ALWAYS complaining!

Pete
Code:
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 12:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Peter Blumsom wrote:
Monsieur Kelly,

Hope you don't mind me clambering over the leaning walls into your domain,
Pete
Code:


Come on over Pete,
you are most welcome anytime,
don't forget your banjo tho'.Wink
and your piano
and the wine.
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 1:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Whoops double post.
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John Kelly



Joined: 28 Feb 2008
Posts: 127
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 12:57 pm    Post subject: The Thought of Marsilio Ficino Reply with quote

Following
The Thought of Marsilio Ficino Thread

Oh come all ye scholars please can you agree
And pull back the curtains on time for to see
The love of his wisdom for us to imbibe
And let some light on this...
Sec. Modern scribe
For I'm just a worker, some call us "that tribe",
Can I mend you a fuse , or fix you a bribe?
So come all ye scholars shine light on his love
Just let it pour down from the heavens above,
Now I guess from your words that you've not blown a fuse
And I'm sure you won't mind if I sit here and just muse
Coz your guiding light, I do not wish to lose.

the apprentice Wink
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Michael Shepherd



Joined: 07 Dec 2007
Posts: 1395
Location: London, UK

PostPosted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 2:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Now John, don't let yourself get queasy --
the 'thought' of sages isn't always easy :
remember, he only had a few years' chance
to launch the whole ****** Renaissance...

and the ways of the loving Lord
are mysterious to men...
no wonder readers then get bored
when scholars tie themselves in knots, now and then...
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