Bottled.

Poetics: Bottled Poetry

hi all not all bottle contain misery most do some don’t.

Here is one of my poems about addiction to alcohol written way back. it is not about me but based on a family member. https://pyscopoet.home.blog/?p=1989.

Message in a bottle.

Here I sit at life’s ending.
If I could bottle a message,
And toss it into my past,
What would I tell my younger self?

Leave of the beer you numpty!
You have seen what it does.

Getting yourself an education,
Does not just come from collage,
The university of life is tougher,
Live life and learn at the same time.

Love yourself not the bottle,
You have seen what it does.

Do not bottle it, if opportunity knocks,
We do not all get,
 opportunities to chase,
Empathy matters keep it in your heart.

Live life to the full,
You will see what it does.

© 22/08/2023 rog leach

pines #acroustic #quadrille

Quadrille #181: Are You Pining for Poems?

#dversepoetspub, #dejackson.

For many years now I have been working on a novel. based on the diaries of three main characters as the aids virus decimates the vampire population. one of the main characters ends up living in a serries of geodesic domes on the moon with a group of scientists.

poetry is one of my distractions. so I have added some to the journal entries over the years. this one will be added to the diary of Professor Gilbert (first name, no family names allowed where he lives). maybe one I will stop procrastinating and finish he thing.

pines.
#acroustc, #quadrille.

Pining for childhood forest home, after dome confinement, 
Instigates loneliness within breeding group, no love lost
Neurotic behaviour follows, sudden realisation of loss,   
Escape from the Moon Sanctuary certain death,
Stupor engulfs my breaking heart, suicide not an option.
  
Pining instigates neurotic escape stupor.

© 21/08/2023 rog leach

Enclave covenant.

MTB: Convince us with rhetorical devices

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

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,