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It Is Pot Of Stew Day For The Blessed Arrival Of Sister Darling

Sister Darling, of

The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),

Will arrive

On the Sunday tide,

To help me on the way

To Heaven.

So, I will prepare,

And let simmer,

A rip-roaring

Pot o’ stew,

To warm her up,

(As she warms me)..

Turnips & parsnips,

Carrots & potatoes,

Onions & garlic & a trove

Of seasonings.

All to augment,

And enhance,

The liberal chunks

Of venison.

It will simmer overnight

Much as will I.

She will bring bread,

And pastries,

And a jug of red wine,

Though she is more than welcome

If she arrives

Empty handed.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

The Almighty and The Elephant Share Poems on World Poetry Day

The elephant was contemplating his muse.

He was lying beside the river, trailing one of his big feet in the water.

He watched as the current rippled and sparkled past, and noted the occasional
leaping fish with bemusement.He looked across to the other shore with a sigh,
and then closed his eyes to more fully experience the race of the river against his toes.
After indulging himself in this manner for awhile, he flopped onto his back, so he could
look at the trees.

He traced their outline against the blue sky with his trunk, and followed

the curve of some branches overhanging the river with interest. He even smiled benignly as a family of monkeys clambered up one tree, leapt through the canopy of leaves, and

raced down another.

He suddenly slapped his forehead with his trunk, rolled over with such force that

he jostled a boulder with his flank, and began to emote.

The monkeys, in the trees,

“Cause a breeze, when they sneeze.”

“Pardon me?” said the boulder.

I nudged the boulder with my shoulder.

“It was older, and much colder.”

“Oh boy,” said God.

“I am a POET,” said the elephant.

“Oh boy, again,” said God.

It is a stone, which has grown,

“In a zone, all alone.”

“Would that I were – alone, and away from the voices.”

“I’m expressing myself,” said the elephant.

“That is a statement of truth,” said God, “which does not contain the whole truth.”

“It is a thrill, to have free will,

“That is until, others say `nil’.”

“To be fair,” God stifled a chuckle. “You seem to have grasped the concept of

rhyme – although your reach sometimes exceeds it.”

“But that’s what heaven’s for,” pointed out the elephant.

“You’ll get,” said God, “no Browning points from me.”

“That’s not my last, don’t be so fast,

“My muse to cast, into the past.”

“You’ve heard about too much of a good thing?” asked the boulder, giving a nudge of its own.

“Yes,” said the elephant.

“Well – this isn’t it.”

“You don’t like the way I make the words dance?”

“I’d rather sit this one out.”

In the misty morn, he sat forlorn;

“He wouldn’t adorn, the dance floor well-worn.”

“Oh boy,”said God.

“As you can see,” said the elephant. “I provide a lot of bon mot for each and

every occasion.”

“Such a threat is enough to make a boulder crumble,” said the boulder.

“The rock of ages, dissolved in stages,

“And proved the sages’, `noblesse obliges’.”

“Oy veh,” said God. “I’ve become a straight man for a stand-up elephant.”

“I could pack a hall,” said the elephant.

“You could pachyderm,” pointed out God.

It’s just a guess, I do confess,

“That more is less, in the wilderness.”

“This could go on forever,” said God.

“You’re the expert there,” pointed out the elephant.

“Then I think I’ll repair to the forest,” said the boulder.

“He stood, in the wood,

“Where he could, do most good.”

The boulder rumbled with a voice which filled the jungle.

Poems are made by fools like thee,

“But only I can make a tree.”

The Sea Birds Find Safe Haven In The Fog With The Light House Beam

If it was not for the

Sweep Sweep Sweep

Of the Light House light

We would see nothing.

The tired, exhausted sea birds,

Who have seen nothing for hours,

But the fog,

Take what haven they can

And descend around

And upon

The Lighthouse.

Dozens of them,

By what I can count in the

Sweep Sweep Sweep

Of the Light House light.

Paw, my cat/kitten

Himself black as a fog night,

With one white mitten,

Went up to one of the

Near dead birds,

And sniffed him.

Smelled the exhaustion

Beyond even the fear,

And left him alone.

I’ll find some dead tomorrow

And we’ll let the others rest

Until they can

Fly.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Not A Wild Goose Chase, But A Groundhog On Groundhog Day

Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as coal
With one white mitten.
Is bemused with me
(I think).
I took him out
To hunt down

The damned groundhog,
On Groundhog Day.
Though
I admit
I’ve never seen a
Groundhog
On this island.
But, I’d point,
And tell him to run.
And he did,
Until
He stopped.
Which wasn’t long
Into my tomfoolery.
Gotta say
My cat/kitten
Puts up

With a lot.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL

Sister Darling Saves My Soul In The Snow Storm Blizzard Of The Year (so far)

Like everyone along the coast,
Sister Darling, of the

Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),

Knew that a

“When Hell Freezes Over”

Storm
Was on the way.
She came to my
Lighthouse Island
The day before,

Because the fishing boats
(Her mode of transport).
Would be staying put in port.
She quickly got the soul-saving
Out of the way,
Renewed her friendship with
Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as tar
With one white mitten
And then, the next day,
Romped with us
In front of the fire,
Happily sharing
Her own warmth.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL

James Bond Interviews Hamlet

Q; To be or not to be?
A;  Who asketh the query?
Q: Bond – James Bond.
A: Sound and fury, it seems to me.
Q: They say you’re a talker – is that true?
A: More of a thinker.
Q: Then a doer?
A: I put many acts in play.
Q: The power behind the throne?
A: When the throne is rotten.
Q:  So, do you dither?
A:  Whilst thou hither.
Q: What is your wish?
A: To whisper in your ear.
Q To tell me what?
A: Fear not, it won’t be poisonous.
Q:  Will it be a secret?
A:  More likely than not.
Q: In my line of work, secrets are Death.
A:  You deal with Kings and Queens?
Q: I’m on Her Majesty’s Secret Service.
A: A double life is a double sword is a double bind.
Q: How do you know that?
A:  I write plays.
Q And tell the truth?
A: My word is my bond.

DE BA UEL

Favorite Quote

Because I could not stop for Death / He kindly stopped for me” ~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

And the why because . . . Why – because it sums up life.

The Biggest Ship At Sea I Ever Did See

Up in the turret
Of my Lighthouse,
Out to sea,
And through my
Nautical spyglass,
I saw
The largest,
Meanest,
Baddest,
Man-o’-War
I have ever seen.
Not coming into port,
But passing to an
Unknown (to me) destination.
I’m glad I am only
Out to sea
On this harbour
Lighthouse Island,
Because I have just
Seen
The Angel of Death.


(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

Sea Smoke On The Water And A Cat On The Land

Too much excitement,
And confusion,
For Paw
My cat/kitten,
Black as last night

With one white mitten.

Down by the water.
I had to grab him
By
The scruff of his neck
(Just like a mother cat),
And haul him back
As he batted at,
And reached for,
The fog on the water.
Mind you,

I held him over it,
And let him kick

His darn fool legs
In every direction
At the white mist.
He growled
But they were,
Contented growls.

(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL

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