A Love Without End.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

23rd October 2021

A beauty that beguiles the eye

Such a splendour cannot lie

I am compelled to look and stare

To see if he’s not really there

Straining every optic nerve

I look, I study, every curve

That sight will haunt for evermore

As I look upon the son she bore

He’ll be forever my small lad,

and I’ll be his ever-loving dad

I love you son, with all my heart

With a love I know will never part

© Joseph R Mason

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Alphabetti Spagetti

23rd October 2021

Here is a challenge

Write a poem where the first letters in each line are in alphabetical order.
1) A … … …
2) B … … …
3) C … … …
n) … … … and so on.
Write as many lines as you wish, but at least 4 lines.
Good luck! 🔠 👍

Link back to this page by copying the link into the comments.

Let’s see how many we get.

Alphabetti Spaghetti is not my favourite food

Because of all the letters, they might spell something rude

Condensed milk, now I do love, and eat it from the tin

Dipping in a doughnut, I know that it’s a sin

Egg and chips with baked beans, and tomato sauce

Forever a favourite dinner, not everyday, of course

Grilled fish, especially on the bone, is something to avoid

Hate the thought of choking, it makes me quite annoyed

Ice cream of course, with chocolate sauce, is something to enjoy

Jelly too, with more ice cream, the dream of every boy

Kale, the stuff of smoothies, it makes me feel quite sick

Lattes, on the other hand, all frothy, creamy and thick

Munch, munch, munch, I love my food, that’s why I’m rather fat

No, please don’t say I need a diet, I really won’t like that

On the other hand, a heart attack, can really be quite fatal

Perhaps it’s time to trim my waist, it’s really rather ample

Quesadilla of course, the Mexican food is really rather spicy

Ridiculous as this may sound, it goes with chocolate brownie

Salmon, fried and juicy, simmering in the pan, with

Tarragon, the ideal herb, I’m really quite a fan

Unless you’re vegetarian, or you really don’t like meat,

Veal will not be on your plate, just dragged from mother’s teat

Watermelon, what a treat, especially in the summer

Xigua fruit is the African name, great if you’re a Boer

You know, I’m running out, of silly things to rhyme

Zander is last on my list, and now I’m out of time.

©Joseph R Mason – 2021

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It’s Not Sustainable – A Poem

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12th September 2021

Just dry hot earth, parched and cracked by heat

No wheat, no maize, no barley, no beet

The world, it has changed, and not for the best

There’s just not enough food to feed all the rest.

Flooded plains and the crops are all washed away

So I’m sorry, there’s no food for you here today

Just crying the of babies and the weeping of mothers

There’s just not enough food to feed all the others

It’s not our fault, just blame global warming

It just crept up upon us without any warning

Nobody told us, or we just didn’t listen

Maybe the news has just made us hard bitten

But here in the West,

we all do our best

We’re all okay here,

so there’s no need to fear

We might send some aid,

once we get paid

For the guns we sell

to your leaders from hell

How dare you suggest that we do not care

It’s not us pumping gases up into the air

It’s the others you see, so don’t you blame me

It’s not my insecticide that killed the last bee

Anyway, global warming, it may not be so true

If it is, it’s not me, but you, you, and you

So don’t point the finger at me as you die

Don’t say it was me because that’s just a lie

What do you mean there’s no food without pollination?

But I live in the west, in a very rich nation

Something has to be done and it has to be now!

What do you mean it’s too late? We’ll all die anyhow.

©Joseph R Mason 2021

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A Journey – A Poem

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3rd September 2021

Life’s journey for some just plods along,

for others, it’s a riot!

Some rather not have too much fun,

they like it rather quiet.

Wherever life’s journey takes you,

be sure to understand,

The dealer does not hold the cards,

and there’s aces in your hand.

That deal of fate does not exist,

you make your own luck here.

So, voyage on with hope and faith,

there’s nothing here to fear.

Journey with your head held high,

with purpose in your stride,

You’re unique and in God’s image,

there’s nothing here to hide.

So, straight, or gay, or black, or white,

step out with self-respect.

With pride, affection, with sorrow and joy,

for with love, we can connect.

Love, God’s great commandment,

love your neighbour as yourself.

Respect each one for who they are,

think of others, not of self.

© Joseph Mason 2021

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Journey – Sept. 2, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

Purple Moon – A Poem

Image from Clapway.com

28th August 2021

The modern-day definition of a Blue Moon is when there are 2 Full Moons in one month. A Full Moon occurs roughly every 29.5 days and on the rare occasion when the Full Moon falls at the very beginning of a month there is a good chance a Blue Moon will occur at the end of the month. A purple moon is the special name given to the second full moon of a 30-day month, especially in April. Generally, second full moon in a month is called the blue moon. The first full moon occurring in April is called the Pink Moon. Purple Moon fits well as the name of second full moon in April following Pink Moon, analogous to mixing pink and blue yielding purple. Giving that April has only 30 days, a second full moon in April is extremely rare, which led to the idiom once in a purple moon referring to an extremely rare event, even rarer than the more familiar ‘once in a blue moon’.

Purple Moon

August is the corn moon; it happens every year.

And once in a blue moon rising is something rather rare.

February never has two moons, it never sees one blue,

It sometimes has no moon at all, and cares little about that too.

But April is the pink moon when flowers and seeds break out,

So, two full moons in April are a bonus to shout about.

Pink and blue make purple, so we call it the purple moon,

There’s not been one in fifty years, let’s hope we have one soon.

©Joseph R Mason 2021

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Choice

21st August 2021

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In my ear a small voice, “We all have a choice.

We all have free will, to do good or for ill.”

“We were never made perfect; we were born out of conflict.

Sin was never our choice.” “But it was,” said the voice.

“We could never do better because sin was our fetter.

It’s like chains that bind us, in prison confines us.

Is there just no way out? No forgiveness about?

It’s a highway to hell, when for you tolls the bell.

There’s no stairway to heaven, there is no antigen.”

“But there is,” says the voice, “and it’s still about choice.”

“I chose darkness not light; can I still choose what’s right?

“I am not your nemesis, and way before Genesis,

Before you were in womb, you were then my heirloom,

My precious delight, never out of my sight,

No more wrong, just do right, come into the light.”

“But how do I get there, I don’t know how to pray?”

“Just be trusting in me, for I am the way.”

So, I asked for His grace, and His Spirit He sent.

When I got to my feet, on His cross I was leant.

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Midnight

21st August 2021

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Please note, this is just a poem, it does not reflect me at the present but may resonate with some.

Midnight?

That’s not my time

At least, not at my time of life

Cocoa’s long been drunk

Teeth cleaned, and into the arms of Morpheus

But when I was younger

Fifty years younger

Oh, how I remember

Or rather, I don’t

Was I drunk?

Those years I can’t recall

Those pints of ale

That singing

The darts

Those laughs with my mates

Most of them gone too

All vanished, like butterflies in winter

They may be there, but…

I remember them not

I ask, was I drunk?

Was I drunk?

But now

Dementia

…and now… I wish I were drunk.

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Midnight – August 19, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

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)

The Glider.

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Silence, gliding through the air.

Wings outstretched, not really there,

Thermals take me up and up

High into the atmosphere.

Soaring to heights where the air is thin

Tweaking aileron, tinkering fin.

Lost in a sky of azure blue,

I wish that you could be here too

To see the sights that I can see

Up in my glider, you, and me.

To see the fields a patchwork brown

With tiny people in a tiny town.

And then descending, down we glide

Like tiny children on a slide

We giggle, we chortle, we laugh with joy.

Back to the ground with the hobbledehoy.

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Soaring – July 22, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)