Death in a vase

Flowers, withering without water.

Drying, dying, none to care.

Petals dropping, one by one,

Dying, drying, abhorrent, uncared.

The slightest breeze and several fall

Dried, died, yet still fragrant.

Their perfume fills only the imagination.

Reality is the smell of stagnation.

The aroma of death,

By midday sun or moonlit night

They fall, dead, dry, parched.

A flower head bends, droops,

As if looking down,

searching for the water.

Leaves, curl and crisp

Pale to the eye, pallid to the touch

Drying, perishing, bleached of colour.

Stalk, brown and shrivelled.

Crisp to touch, hard, unforgiving.

This is my life, my love, my death.

My very existence, displayed in a vase.

Arranged with care and an eye for form.

Such beauty once was there

Now dead, so dead, so dead. So very dead.

This is what I dread.

©Jospeph R Mason 2021

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Petals – July 29, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

Happiness.

Happiness is not on the face of a clown,

They always have a permanent frown.

Happiness is something you just have inside.

But in people I know, it knows how to hide.

So, give us a smile, no, give us a grin,

Showing you’re happy, is not yet a sin,

Big hearty laughs, so your wobbly bits wobble.

Laughing out loud so it makes the mind boggle.

Like sand in your toes and the wind in your hair.

Joy to the world like you’ve laughter to share.

Pleasure, delight, big thrills, and elation.

Let’s spread it like marmite across our great nation.

So, love it or loathe it, let’s spread it around.

Let happiness, joy, and laughter abound.

Photo by Mary Taylor on Pexels.com

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Happiness – June 24, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

A Celebration of the Confusion of Adolescence.

22nd June 2021

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Let’s celebrate the celibate, those who have not cherished,

Or lived, or lain in sinful pose, or loved before they perished?

Remember those who cannot love, because great pain it causes,

Who hesitate at every touch with long and stiffened pauses.

Forget not those who live to love and love to live enraptured,

Whose very breath, and every thought, through each desire is captured.

Who’s bodies quiver at every touch, perspire at every thought.

Even though they think it’s wrong and shameful if they’re caught.

Let us not dwell too long on this, of lust and things impure.

Instead, consider purity, and how we shall endure.

The former things of which we spoke, put them behind us now,

For growing up is difficult, but we’ll get through somehow.

As adolescence dawns, hair in armpits, face and places,

We fancy boys, we fancy girls, and our voices change to basses.

But we’ll get through, we always do, without every asking mother.

Just take it all in hand you see, just like every other.

©Joseph R Mason 2021

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From Another Viewpoint

Your viewpoint or my point of view?

Ambling, rambling, almost gambling.

Alliterations flow.

But still, I do not know.

I never have and never will.

But then I hear you say,

You know the drill.

What drill?

What thrill?

What bitter pill?

Resonances flow you know.

And so it goes, or blows, or glows, who knows?

I don’t understand.

Totally underhand.

It’s yours for under a grand.

The farmer says,

“Get off my land,,

You and your band,

You’re Banned!”

Assonances.

Resonances.

Alliterations flow.

Absolutely always avoid annoying alliterations.

That’s my point of view.

It doesn’t rhyme,

It don’t keep time,

The timbres right off key.

Grammar’s lousy too, but that’s just me!

©Joseph R. Mason 2021

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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https://amanpan.com/2021/05/13/eugis-weekly-prompt-viewpoint-may-13-2021/

Dawning

© Richard j. Kirk 2019

A new day is dawning.

A new era is upon us.

A new world has begun.

Clichés each and every one.

Irrelevant all.

Pointless.

Demeaning to the ears.

Sayings which should be evicted.

Vanished.

Expunged.

Erased from all literature.

Cut from the tongues that speak it.

Then.

Dipping quill into crimson mixed with spittle.

We will compose afresh.

Then will arise a new patois.

Acrolect and basilect

Sociolinguistic labels

The upper and lower boundaries

The dawning of a new age.

© Joseph R. Mason 2021

29th January 2021

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Dawning – January 21, 2021 ‹ Eugi’s Causerie ‹ Reader — WordPress.com

Everlasting Twaddle

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Everlasting twaddle,

Everlasting twat.

Everlasting wobble,

Everlasting this and that.

Everlasting gobstopper?

Surely that’s a piece of clay.

Everlasting tedium?

Now that’s a groundhog day.

Twaddle, twat, wobble, that,

A list of words you think.

Perhaps they are an anagram?

Or another crossword link.

Think on it and

Think on it

Think all day and night.

When the sun does rise, it’ll dawn on you,

And give your brain a fright.

And so the poem, repeats itself.

It just goes on and on.

I knew the bloke what wrote it.

I know he’s too far gone.

Please don’t read it to the end,

Or it will send you round the bend.

Everlasting twaddle,

Everlasting twat.

Everlasting wobble,

Everlasting this and that.

Everlasting gobstopper?

Surely that’s a piece of clay.

Everlasting tedium?

Now that’s a groundhog day.

Twaddle, twat, wobble, that,

A list of words you think.

Perhaps they are an anagram?

Or another crossword link.

Think on it and

Think on it

Think all day and night.

When the sun does rise, it’ll dawn on you,

And give your brain a fright.

And so the poem, repeats itself.

It just goes on and on.

I knew the bloke what wrote it.

I know he’s too far gone.

Everlasting twaddle,

Everlasting twat.

Everlasting wobble,

Everlasting this and that.

Everlasting gobstopper?

Surely that’s a piece of clay.

Everlasting tedium?

Now that’s a groundhog day.

Twaddle, twat, wobble, that,

A list of words you think.

Perhaps they are an anagram?

Or another crossword link.

Think on it and

Think on it

Think all day and night.

When the sun does rise, it’ll dawn on you,

And give your brain a fright.

And so the poem, repeats itself.

It just goes on and on.

I knew the bloke what wrote it.

I know he’s too far gone.

Everlasting twaddle,

Everlasting twat.

Everlasting wobble,

Everlasting this and that.

Everlasting gobstopper?

Surely that’s a piece of clay.

Everlasting tedium?

Now that’s a groundhog day.

Twaddle, twat, wobble, that,

A list of words you think.

Perhaps they are an anagram?

Or another crossword link.

Think on it and

Think on it

Think all day and night.

When the sun does rise, it’ll dawn on you,

And give your brain a fright.

And if you read it to the end,

Then you, like me, are round the bend,

And so the poem, repeats itself.

It just goes on and on.

I knew the bloke what wrote it.

I know he’s too far gone…………………………………………..

and on, and on, and on……………………………………………

©joseph r mason 2020

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Be.

Berkelium  a transuranic radioactive chemical element – atomic number 97

Be whatever you want to be

Beginning or be ending

Be dazzled or bejazzled

Be beautiful be belonging

Befitting or befuddled

Beryllium if you’re only four

Betrothed and then be married

Beatitude with an attitude

Beekeeper or be kepter

Belicose and berserk

Berkelium if you’re 97 or

Beccafico if you’re a bird

Be Berberine if that’s your salt

or bengaline if you’re cloth

Bestriding or bestraggling

Beshrouding all the others

Just

DON’T

Be Bewitched.

©joseph r mason 2020

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Look to your own future…

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

A crystal ball? An amazing tool,

it can be believed by any fool.

Makes up the future, the now and past,

and it can not tell you how long you’ll last.

It can only tell you that now you live,

that you’re here now, that you believe

that there may be a future too.

One day you’ll die, now that bit’s true.

Apart from that, the future’s yours,

You have to make your own encores.

Divining the future is just a lie,

the only truth is, one day you’ll die.

So don’t believe in tarot readings,

crystal balls and new beginnings,

Believe in you, what you’ll achieve,

Not fairy tales you don’t believe.

A crystal ball’s just a piece of glass

On a piece of wood and a ring of brass

It has no power to call its’ own.

No one’s future has it ever shown.

©joseph r mason 2020

In response to Eugenia’s weekly prompt:

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gods – (small ‘g’).

Not one of my better missives or even near to good. But try to enjoy. All CONSTRUCTIVE criticism welcome.

August comes from the Latin word augustus, meaning “consecrated” or “venerable,” which in turn is related to the Latin augur, meaning “consecrated by augury” or “auspicious.” In 8 B.C. the Roman Senate honored Augustus Caesar, the first Roman emperor, by changing the name of their month Sextilis to Augustus

August by nature, he strode the palace floors.

Revered by all, feared by most, yet sad beyond his strength.

Ruler of the known world but not of his own.

Troubled and tormented by fear and guilt.

About which he knew not either why or how.

His problematic mind anathematic to his own.

In dreams he saw only what he dreaded.

The gods of Rome were powerless to abate.

What power can come from him who is not there.

Sacrifices to your empty deities bring no healing.

Waxing moons supposedly bring spiritual hope,

Waning  again like unrequited love on a distant shore,

White sand running through your fingers like the days of life.

No hope was found, no pity lost on mortal man.

Jupiter, supreme ruler of the gods, Juno his queen,

“Surely I am a god, does not Rome worship me?”

“Woe to you Minerva and Neptune, fake deities of Rome”

“Venus and Mars, you are planets not gods like me.”

“Apollo, son of Jupiter, loose your arrow and slay your father,

Thought he does not exist, but then, nor you.”

And so he curses every useless god he knows in hope of finding peace.

But no, each non-existent deity curses him back in incredulity.

How dare he say we don’t endure, just because we ……………..

There is no god save one.

Save one,

Save one.

He died

He lives.

©joseph r mason 2020

Photo by Michael Giugliano on Pexels.com

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