Graves
*
Graves,
Graves,
Silent rust down,
Graves,
Graves,
Strained bedfellows we are,
Graves,
Graves,
So far and so near,
Graves,
Graves,
What more can I say?
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Author Archives: The Crazymad Writer
There was a minister, quite bad
There was a minister, quite bad,
Who told us one day we were mad,
That we borrowed too much,
And with reality had lost touch,
I say it is he, not us, who is MAD.
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The Day the Weather Went MAD
The day the weather went mad
A day I thought I had been had,
By the weather extreme, quite obscene,
The day the weather went mad.
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He Thought He Saw…
He Thought He Saw…
He thought he saw a politician,
Who lived the perfect life,
He looked again, and saw it was,
A huge, humongous lie .
That’s it, he said, I realise,
The foolishness of life.
*****
He thought he saw an honest man,
Within the parliament,
He looked again, and saw it was,
Another bloated blimp.
Unless they leave this house, he said,
There will be no hope, I think.
*****
He thought he saw a banker man,
Who made an honest buck,
He looked again, and saw he was,
Entwined in all the muck.
If I were king, he said,
His head would be on the block.
*****
He thought he saw a banker’s clerk,
A man of honest youth,
He looked again, and saw he was,
A succubus forsooth.
If he should stay, he said, for sure,
My savings I will lose.
*****
He thought he saw a kangaroo,
Hopping down his street one day,
He looked again, and saw it was,
A banker’s ill gained pay.
Were I to accept this, he said,
It would be a dark, dark day.
*****
He though he saw limousine,
With groom and bride, so sweet,
He looked again, and saw it was,
The country on its knees.
We’re lost, he said, the country’s bust,
Kaput, no more, deceased.
*****
He though he saw a shaft of light,
That shone through all this gloom,
He looked again, and saw it was,
The cold, reflected moon.
If I were young, he said aloud,
I’d make them swing – and soon!
*****
He though he saw a chink of light,
A way from all this mess,
He looked again, and saw it was,
Their New World Order – yes!
Their ways are bad, corrupt, he said
For them, not us, excess.
*****
He thought he saw the final words,
Inscribed upon a sheet,
He looked again, and saw it was,
Them sweating from the heat.
They thought us fools, he sorely said,
Come on, we’ve lives to live.
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Crisis, what crisis?
Crisis, what crisis?
Crisis, what crisis? the minister asked, looking on,
There is no crisis; it’s a part of my plan,
A plan for better water for one and for all,
Meanwhile, just BOIL IT; that is all.
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Stories for children and young at heart adults.
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TIME – Does it REALLY exist?
TIME – Does it REALLY exist?
Time will come, time will go
Time shall reap, that time has sown
Time comes slowly, time goes fast
Time will linger, time outlasts
Time sees all, time knows best
Time remembers, time never forgets
Time will hide, time will reveal
Time will open, time will seal
Time brings hope, time brings fear
Time brings distance, time draws near
Time will help, time will hinder
Time will shine, time turns to cinder
We forget about time, yet it’s all we would know
In time, there is everything, and time will show
Nate Hawk
TIME – Does it REALLY exist?
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There was an Old Man with a Beard
There was an Old Man with a Beard
There was an old man with a beard,
Who said, “It is just as I feared,
Two owls and a hen,
Four larks and a wren,
Have built their nests in my beard!”
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I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
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For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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Stories for children and young at heart adults
