Grandads Knee

Grandads Knee

My granddaddy always said to me 

You wait until your thirty three 

You'll have some little'uns of your own

Your little princess or prince will sit upon this throne, 

This throne that's reserved just for you

Till childhood fairyland bids adieu.                                                      

So upon his knee I'd clumsily scramble,

Listening to his stories and rambles, 

His stories were off  far of lands, 

Of fairy queens, her kingdom and commands, 

The only wish he had for me 

Was I be as happy as happy as I could be.

On his throne that was his knee,

My childhood was like a fantasy, 

No seat ever has replaced that spot

That I'd climb upon as a tiny, tiny, tot 

Perhaps if grandaddies knees  were the law 

I'd still see my fantasy lands of wonder and awe 

 

 Submitted to : Jingle Poetry

Passion

This is a light hearted Poem about what makes us tick, Hope it makes you smile please leave comments .....Thank you  

Passion 

Passionate is not always about being horizontal,

Having to be in bed is just incidental,

Passion can be generated at the drop of a hat

That lusty feel you get in your tum, 

When you see the arch of a certain bum!

 It's true ,passion isn't for just the sack,

Passion can take control and that is fact!

Passion, when and if desired, 

Can be created if we stoke our fires, 

We dim the lights and fan the flames,

Sexy attire! The passion becomes untamed,

Subtle touches and gentle contact, 

Passion can be created and that's a fact !

Passion can breed when music is present, 

It warms your cockles and makes you ardent,

Your body sways, you feel the rhythms and beat, 

Your heart races as you move your feet,

When the evening ends, you'll complete the act, 

Passion can be absorbed and that's a fact ! 

Alvaro Castagnet

Submitted to Jingle Poetry for their  Passionate Nights of Love  theme

Missiles Of Love

Missiles of Love 

Banksy 

Around the World, missiles and guns.

 Constantly fired 

Death, birth and love though, 

Not yet retired. 

Innocent children brought into this political unrest 

Too young to fight

 Too young to protest 

Innocence and love in childhood

Is their life,

 It is their norm, 

 Yet elders of countries, 

Constantly fighting to reform!

Maybe the saviours from the devastation 

Emanates from their seed

For every fighting nation 

Its from the innocent 

They should take heed 

No prejudices indoctrinated 

Peace, love and tolerance, 

 The only missiles activated. 

    Jingle Poetry Potluck Week 44                       A Community for Poets to Share dVerse

A Drink For Friends

A Drink For Friends 

My friends are iconic,
Like bubbles in champagne,
They come infuse my life,
Prevent me from becoming insane!                                    

My friends are mental,
Like extra fizzy lemonade,
They come entertain my spirit,
Our joint memories replayed!

My friends are strong,
Like coco in my chocolate,
They come singing the same song.
No agendas to translate!

My friends are my diamonds,
In my multi coloured sky,
I drink up their friendship,
Never to say goodbye !

So to my friends I toast,
Our friendship will last for eternity !
I proudly  boast this,
For with friends like mine this is a certainty !

                                                                                                                

 Submitted To  Jingle Poetry Potluck

God is a Rap Star

A bit different for me and kind of experimental 

God is a Rap Star 

gather round the hood, 

this gig's gonna be loud 

gonna be well good 

Gonna make us well proud! 

cos 

god is a rap star!

gather round the hood 

the vibe is heavy,dark

gonna be wicked, it should !

gonna rain hard,gonna need an ark!

cos

 god is a rap star 

gather round the hood 

there's a rumble in our jungle

Gonna be mega, it could!

Gonna flash,gonna spangle!

cos

 god is a rap star! 

its wicked in the hood 

flashes and mega loud, 

chillin in the rain ,its good!

a wicked thunderous crowd 

cos 

god is a rap star!

jinglepoetry poetry potluck thunderstorms and floods

Nurture

Nurture

Gentle innocence was once mine,

Though in another life and earlier times. 

Can you no longer see the child that was once within, 

You who have taken me, under your wing,

Teaching me sin! 

When I was a child I grasped the world in awe, 

As my mentor now you challenge my boundaries once more. 

Your world has invited me in , flung open its doors, 

One of pure pleasure,

Behaving like a whore! 

I still possess some innocence which I haven't  yet explored.

Somewhere inside, still exist a child who needs to be adored. 

My boundaries I promise, will gently break,

Every pleasure you dream of

Will be ours to take! 

Submitted to Jingle Poetry Potluck

Dead meat

Dead Meat 

(feet)

                                                                                                             

                                                                                                           

There they are on the end of my legs, 

Strange horrid things that sometimes look dead. 

When I'm sitting they sometimes look blue, 

Other times when  I've been running they take on a violet hue .

I paint the ends red, the bits that stick out! 

Supposedly they look pretty , it something,

I doubt!

We wrap them up in black leather and  brown suede, 

We hide them away so they aren't on parade.

Ugly, painted pretty ,covered or bare, 

They're something we need and should always be there

But if you see mine promise

 Don't Stare 

Jingle Poetry Potluck

Family Chains

Family Chains
( For my sons 21st birthday ) 

To the children we love so much,

Small yet hardy,that's what they say

But as your mum and dad we see you in different ways

Your flawless skin, your sparkling eyes,

The way you drive us mad, always asking why?

One simple step that every child takes,

When you do the same our hearts could break.

From toddler to child you move away

Each independant trait, but we want you to stay

Our child yet our babe forever, we need

To feel somewhere inside you, we are your seed

So never forget that feeling inside,

That you'll always belong and never be freed,

For a chain has been created and will never be broken

To our children we write these words

Thou these thoughts are never spoken!

Photo : Claire Bloomfield

Life/Death Support.

Life/Death Support

There you lie in your sterile bed,

With your sterile hands and your sterile head.

Tubes growing from your torso and limbs,

Your body intact but your spirit becoming thin.

I look at this person I knew before 

All lifeless and blank,a human no more. 

The tubes are your lifeline,all yellow and clear 

To rip them out and give you your pride,

I would pay dear 

But to have loved and watch you now 

My own Death I fear !

Jingle Poetry Potluck