Enclave covenant.

MTB: Convince us with rhetorical devices
stop the fighting.

Thanks Bjorn for a challenging prompt about rhetorical devices here at MTB #dversepoetspub.

I had stated a poem yesterday for one of the spoken word groups I go to (word at the wharf) based on the next meetings subject of fall. and felt it could do with a bit of rhetoric.

Enclave covenant!
#wordatthewharf, #dversepoetspub.

Welcome, welcome, welcome,
To the old cool school enclave,
Where breathing is wasted,
 On the living,
Cannon fodder taught,
 Nationalism’s xenophobia,
Only to fall, fall, fall,
 Under another’s heel.

When there’s war, there’s war,
Even within a stagnating constitution.
The sweetest thunder of guns lives,
Only to kill bill’s will
Americans own guns, 
Guns taking American lives, 
Spend the lives of the poor,
 Spend the poor’s lives for???
To fall, fall, fall under another’s heel,
War what for? War what for?
To save the sulphuric,
 Enclave covenant of old.

What goes around comes around!

Will the conclave fall, fall, fall?
To Cheering, chuckling and sniggering,
Will the shunned poor rise, rise, rise?
To become the new school enclave?
Only to fall, fall, fall under another’s heel.

Only to come full circle back into an enclave covenant.
Welcome, welcome, welcome.


© 17/08/2023 rog leach

Goodbye Hobgoblin!

ha ha ha goodbye
Poetics: August Transitions

Back at the end of last year after only five years ( two of which were in the covid restrictions) of sharing my written words as spoken words, I decided to kill of my Alta ego. A character I had created to give me the confidence to get up at open mics and spoken word events. I even found myself sharing during covid restriction when I was not at work sharing over video links with the #dversepoetspub. 

Goodbye hobgoblin!

Going out with a bang was his plan,
But now he is oh so quiet.

Here lays the hobgoblin poet,
@ Glade valentine church yard,
My life now blank and peaceful,
Killed watching rainbows and missiles,
Which touched earth with beauty and destruction,
Indifferent to the suffering.
As war rages around him.

The Hobgoblin poet,
Without a bang he went out,
Died voice unheard.

But his written words,
Will be eternal,
Ready for future generations.
Who have learnt to get along.
Leaving war to the history books.
No going out with a bang required.

© 09/11/2022 rog leach #word@thewharf.
© 22/11/2022 rog leach #the guild.

As you can see this was written at in 2022. I thought it would fit with Merrill's transition prompt for her August prompt at  #dversepoetspub.

Cinema Yuck #quadrille

Pop Goes The Quadrille (#181)

well I bet you at #dversepoetspub can guess which corn based snack I am not a fan off?

the song that is linked here is one that was around about the time I first went to the cinema as a child. small town, tiny cinema filthy facilities etc. etc. when i smell said snack I think of that dirty old town.

Cinema Yuck! #quadrille.

Smell of hot dirty grease,
 Lights down low,
Strange noises from behind,
Sticky carpets under foot, 
 Filthy seats under clean trousers.

Adverts selling useless services,
Rancid popcorn sold by the bucket,
Overpriced Ice-cream in Intervale,
Rivers of blood on screen,
First Fleapit cinema visit.  

© 07/08/2023 rog leach
1970’s cheesy popcorn

peeled and pickled

Poetics: Peeled Away

hello one and all at #dverse tonight I have reworked an old poem from back when I could manage to grow onions for the pickling jars. time does not allow these days.

PEELED AND PICKLED.

Tears peel from my eyes,

As I strip the onions,

 Out of their papery, papery skins,

Birds eye chillies sneaking inn,

Ready for salty, salty bath time,

Prepped for the,

Dark malty vinegar,

Before hiding in the cool,

Darkness of the potting shed,

Three months until edible treats,

Until served with cheese ploughman’s,

Pickled onions BOMB my taste buds,

To the twang of the cheese.

© rog leach 24/2/2020

reworked 01/08/2023

shed ready