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John Kelly
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 11:26 am    Post subject: can't believe it's not butter Reply with quote

Food of Thought

Fooled by the intricacies
Of nature
That can turn a molehill into a mountain
Or heaven into a sowís ear,
To be caught between
Two opposing views
Like butter in a sandwich,
Is it not easier
To know nothing
And be joyful,
Rather than being eaten alive
By someone
Mistaking
Better for butter?
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Mon Aug 31, 2009 3:52 pm    Post subject: Poem Reply with quote

Galloway Hills, Scotland


Dead Cattle and Rain.

She cried all night in the field
Surrounded by hills and pouring rain
The cry vibrating, echoing around the hills
Sounding like a ship lost in fog
Her belly arched then heaved
Bellowing mournful cries at lifeless calf
Cold and wet, unmoving in the sodden grass
All through the night she cried
And the following day
Surrounded by living beauty
Pierced by motherís cries

The young farmer with voice
As gentle as the hills
And sadness in his eyes
Loaded the calf into his trailer
Mother looked on head bowed
Then mourned again with dreadful cries
Across the naked beautiful field
Where streams run timeless to the Loch
And out to distant sea.


Dead Sheep and Buzzards

After the calf a sheep lay beautiful in death
Upon such a scene as only earth could paint
Swollen, stiff with white white fleece
Ripped in haste by magpie, buzzard and red kite,
Eyeless sockets ringed in crimson blood
Against the vibrant lush of green
Black headed with horns of grey
White fleece upon the grass
No mournful cries for lonely sheep
Just the squabbling of the birds
For their turn
Upon the carcass
In a valley of beautiful stillness.
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Sun Sep 13, 2009 11:22 am    Post subject: poem Reply with quote

A little more Beatles nostalgia.

The Rock Ďn Roll Tree.

When we were young in boyhood years
And unaware of grown ups fears
We climbed a tree above the town
And from the boughs we all looked down
And sang out songs not all in key
In our home from home in our rock n roll tree.

The endless summer skies above
The Beatles songs sang out in love
We had no drums no amplifiers
But knew the words like schoolboy choirs
O how the summer days seemed long
Learning lines of a new hit song
There were no crowds or screaming girls
We didnít have John Lennonís curls
We didnít care we sang so free
In our home from home in our rock n roll tree.

Hours we spent just learning lines
Whilst fathers grafted in the mines
No pits for us we all would sing
And waited for the bell to ring
And after school we made our way
To sing for free without no pay
Or watch the Magpies scoring goals
Or smoky trains move tons of coals
Or sing a song in leafy glades
While fathers dug for coal with spades.

Up a tree above the town
With fleshy leaves and bark all brown
Squeaky voices laughing fits
Sulphurous air from coal face pits
Foggy Tyneside drunken brawls
Old ladies wrapped in knitted shawls
Up our tree we didnít care
The rock n roll tree in winter bare
Itís still there now as I stand and stare
A childhood gone, I wonder where?
In the memory childhood friends who sang so loud
Have disappeared like morning cloud,
And now the icy wind it blows
The rock n roll tree in winter snows
Lies so quiet the times have changed
The boyhood bandís now rearranged
Where are they now and do they sing?
In winters frost or sunny spring.

The rock n roll tree now all alone
In windy storms the boughs just groan
Will stand there still when I have flown
And maybe in some other time
Some young souls will rise and climb and sing out songs in some new rhyme
Who am I? And who are thee? The answers In the Rock n Roll tree.



The rock n roll tree it sheds itís leaves
Just like the changing mind perceives,
The day we gave our final show
I canít recall I do not know
If Iíll climb again and sing out loud and float of free with summer cloud
Re-call the past of child hood names
Who sang so free in childhood games,
But in the mind I can recall
How the Beatles songs they moved us all.
Newcastle wood, wasnít it good.

Now I watch from fireside chair
The flying football in the air
Whoís that guy with rubber legs?
I hear that Robson has false tooth pegs
Where is Rudd with his double Dutch?
Some one said he lost his touch,
And now the ageing captains skills
Canít catch the wind or raise the thrills,
But you canít keep a good team down
Just try ten pints of that old brown
Then you may smile or maybe frown,
If Man U are back in town,
So farewell to the misery
Iím going back to the rock Ďn roll tree
And sing a while some sweet refrain
And forget about the football pain,
Isnít it good, Newcastle wood?

And now the station master cries with Geordie voice and tired eyes
The last train home has left but thereís a spare branch
Up the rock n roll tree where you can sleep uncomfortably
With the magpies.
Twenty men up a tree asleep in striped shirts
Would make you wonder if you were dreaming
Of the past and rock Ďn roll songs
Or old brass bands
And football throngs
Borrowed shirts and tough old boots
Catching minnows or spotted newts
Collecting jam jars or blowing bubbles,
When only grown ups carried troubles.

And when the distant memory fades
Of magical woods and grassy glades
I bring to mind the changing times
No more Beatles magic rhymes
No more Hollies but still the Stones
With saggy faces and creaky bones.
But look, the love it ever shines
In the rock n roll tree and Beatles lines.
Wasnít it good, Newcastle Wood?

Up in Dark Wood youíll find a tree
And carved in bark for all to see
The names of friends I was glad to see
Who played their part when we were free?
In the magic world of our rock Ďn roll tree.
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Sat May 01, 2010 12:56 pm    Post subject: Prayer to the Muse Reply with quote

Prayer to The Muse

Shower me with chords clothe me in vowels
Dissolve all my scorn and sarcastic scowls
Please fill my days with sweet flowing rhyme
But please keep it simple I canít write sublime

Send me sweet phrases from somewhere inside
Please fill them light with so thereís nowhere to hide
Entwine me with verbs that mean what they do
And the strings of my heart please tune them in too

Donít send any blues you know they donít sell
Everyoneís got them from where they wonít tell
Unlock my heart letís go for a walk
And tie up my tongue from any loose talk

Please send us some love wrapped up in a verse
Though the wrapping donít matter itís often a curse
Sing me the difference between doubting and hope
ĎCause everywhere I look I see a snake in a rope.

It donít have to be clever with pentameter feet
Ďcause folks here they all shuffle with guitars on the street
It does not have to be classic gospel will do
And if anyone likes it Iíll swear it was you.


Last edited by John Kelly on Mon May 10, 2010 4:54 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Cheryl ALbrecht



Joined: 12 May 2009
Posts: 99
Location: Brisbane, Australia

PostPosted: Sat May 01, 2010 11:27 pm    Post subject: Re: Prayer to the Muse Reply with quote

John wrote:
It donít have to be clever with pentameter feet
Ďcause folks here they all shuffle with guitars on the street
It does not have to be classic gospel will do
And if anyone likes it Iíll swear it was you.


Love the line dancing
and the beat of the feet
I like
very much
I do
Hail to you,
the muse too.

*******
Cheryl
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Mon May 24, 2010 9:13 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Vowels Revisited



So they rise within the breast
And join with consonants to rest
As thoughts upon a page

This exquisite language
Sweet English mother tongue
Immortal old, yet ever young.

Whence these vowels
That rise within?
A whole new poem, to begin.

And when to end
Oh where is best?
When one uncovers their source in rest?
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Peter Blumsom



Joined: 09 Mar 2007
Posts: 1099
Location: Wembley, London, UK

PostPosted: Mon May 24, 2010 11:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

This is very nice, John
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Wed May 26, 2010 7:25 am    Post subject: radios at work...aaaahhhh no... Reply with quote

Builders Blues
or Radio Active.

Where are they ?
The painter carpenter
The tiler the grouter
The fixer the foreman

Yea yea yea
And on it goes
Thump thump thump

Where they are no one knows
Off in some reverie
An old flame an old holiday
Fashioned from memory
With some longing thrown in
To spice up the dreams maybe

Yea yea yea
And so it goes
The radio
At work.

Drives my mate nuts
they think he doesn't like music
miserable even,
if they only knew....
he's smoother than
old Jeff Beck
with those blues,
on an ebony
or rosewood neck. Very Happy


Last edited by John Kelly on Tue Jul 13, 2010 10:52 am; edited 1 time in total
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Fri Jun 18, 2010 8:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Boo


Everywhere I look
my eyes melt
Into You
Flowers of your thoughts
Fill the gardens
Scenting the time
Where the rose and lavender
Know only natures
Hidden source.

How could you dream up
This sublime creation
From a loud bang ?
As if to say "Boo "
Waking us all up
From an eternity of sleep
Is that how you did it?
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Tue Jul 13, 2010 10:43 am    Post subject: english rain Reply with quote

The rain has come.


I'm wet through
with colours
my senses soaked
in greens
blown in
from some
dusty Western plain
across four thousand
fathoms of ultramarine blue
falling on grey suburbs
filling tea pots
and coffee cups
washing new life
into faded lawns
unfolding verbs
in a cascading
torrent
of natural wonder,
oh the rain the rain
tis as though
I'm born again.
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Tue Jul 13, 2010 10:47 am    Post subject: meeting old friends Reply with quote

If only

If I'd knew you were
coming so silently
with your pen and paper
I'd have brushed the lawn
and picked sweet peas
by the bundle
straightened the sunflowers
and gathered the roses
put away the slugs and snails
and emptied
the old flower pots
and stood them
to attention
filled them
with fresh compost
and planted
your old poems
with new vigour
but
you came unanounced
and poured new life
into this old alphabet
as if to say,
why are you so quiet
on this seemingly grey
tuesday morning
the week is but two days old
and your cup
is already full.
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Thu Jul 15, 2010 11:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

As still as stones

You'll get the picture
here
http://www.poetfreak.com/text/41877/as-still-as-stones.html

Happy holls. folks

JK
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Thu Jul 15, 2010 2:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Walk on the wild side
here in
The Galloway Hills.
http://www.poetfreak.com/text/44974/galloway-hills.html


Very Happy
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Sat Jul 17, 2010 2:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Just musing to William Shakespeare's
A Midsummer Night's Dream.
The title is of course from the bard's words.


"The lunatic, the lover, and the poet." (WS)

Written four hundred years ago
The truth it does not change
Some words appear so wise
Others seem so strange

From the deserts of Nevada
To Scotish rolling glens
The poet and the lunatic
Keep time with ryhming pens

Filling up the rivers
With metaphors that flow
I wish to be a lunatic
Oh words please let me go.

I wish to be a lunatic
Filled with rhymes in rows
Cool in English sumers
Warmed by winter snows .

Or let me be a poet
So I can cast a spell,
Let nature find the words
For things I cannot tell.

Not least nor last a lover
So secrets I can find
As to why you're sometimes hiding ,
Somewhere in the mind.


Last edited by John Kelly on Mon Jul 19, 2010 8:45 pm; edited 2 times in total
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John Kelly



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

PostPosted: Sat Jul 17, 2010 2:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Saturday Song

http://www.poetfreak.com/text/45272/saturday-song.html
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