Monthly Archives: August 2012

Paěter’s Guardians

This is a poem I have written as part of my fantasy story based in Ersnon. This is a bedtime poem that the Mountain’s children are told. Paěter (Father) is their God and De’orcan (the Dark One) is their devil/demon. This poem is told to ease the children’s mind for sleep, and believe that the elves will protect them all through the night.

As the veil closes on another day,
Ensure to Paěter that you pray
For His elves will be sent to assure;
In sleep you lay safe and secure.

Sunning your blankets on the darkest nights,
Giving warmth where De’orcan’s frost bites,
Shedding light in shadows, so no beasts can hide.
So, respect and cherish all His pride.

Be rewarded, with elves to enchant dreams
Reaching out to quintessential streams.
Guardians for His messengers most dear:
So close those eyes, have no fear.

No harm shall befall you tonight.
Elves beckon sleep, so you wake of sprite.
Your sentinels for the blackened sky
And guides for ‘morrows sun rise.

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Posted by on Wednesday 29th August, 2012 in Poetry


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War’s “Beauty”

Found this image when I was doing some research on my “war songs”. The recollection of my high school studies of World War I all came flooding back. One thing that really stuck with me was No Man’s Land during the war. I think that understanding what it was like is impossible for someone who has never been there, and I can’t start to fathom the horrors of the war and trying to cross No Man’s Land. Personally, I don’t want to either (well not experience it first hand anyway).

My song I wrote No Man’s Land was inspired by letters from Wilfred Owen (a British poet and soldier during WWI).The other poet I really enjoy reading from WWI is Siegfired Sasson (another British poet and solider). Sasson had a great way of writing about death and the terrible state of affairs during the War.

When I look at the picture above I can but imagine the sight of bodies scattered everywhere, stuck in barb wires and those still living just moving ever so slightly, but out of anyone’s reach or help. I could not imagine though looking across this land into the eyes of the enemy with their machine guns ready and the daunting task of being asked to not only to get across the land but to do so whilst being shot at and having to combat barbed wire too. Then if you survive all that you have to then attack those in the trenches, not knowing how many of your fellow men may make it to help you. No wonder the war was so stagnant for so many years …

I think John McCrae’s In Flanders Fields really simply, yet very powerfully conveys the futility that many may have thought of No Man’s Land (and perhaps trench warfare in general). I especially think the power of the poem comes from the lines:

“We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.”

We will remember them … lest we forget!

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Posted by on Tuesday 28th August, 2012 in Comments


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Work Limerick

This limerick probably makes no sense to anyone outside our office, so I will give you some background. A man at our work, who will remain nameless, has a pretty ordinary sense of humour (to be it nicely). Anyway he started telling this Irish joke (which actually had nothing to with him being Irish) regarding a florist. Wasn’t funny the first time and after 10 times it still wasn’t funny. The punch line in the joke has the F word, and if anyone uses that word at work we have to do 10 push ups (sort of similar to a swear jar but with push ups). Anyway here is the limerick I came up for him (to keep with his Irish theme). You have to fill in the last word yourself … not that hard (it rhymes with the first two lines).

There was an old man of luck,
Who told a joke with much pluck.
Any chance through the day,
To our unfortunate dismay.
Laughs, then push ups for saying ____.


Posted by on Monday 27th August, 2012 in Poetry


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Time Sheet Limerick

Another time sheet poem I wrote for last Friday. Decided to try my hand at a limerick this time. Tried to keep it quite close to the standard, but the da-DUM rhythm may not be “great”. Enjoy.

There was a young maiden of grace
Who quietly worked at a great pace,
Hidden from our sight at times,
Cringing quietly at my rhymes.
Send her time sheets; to help me save face.

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Posted by on Monday 27th August, 2012 in Poetry


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Shelter from Above

Patiently the lumbering giants slept,
Our oblivion, blossomed each season
Yet  with stormy skies their eyes crept.
Tears from above cleansed away reason

When winds from world’s end blew,
These giants shed the bark of old.
Limbs mobilised and pushed through,
As others uprooted their foot hold.

Marching on our creations with ease.
In awe we stood, sapped by the blasts.
In their fury we see the forest from the trees,
But what we learned never lasts

So as leaves whispered in their crowns,
We braced for their coming rage.
Branching out across all the towns,
Shelter sort within our stone cage.

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Posted by on Wednesday 22nd August, 2012 in Poetry


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Work Dispute


I wrote this poem for work. It is based on a joke I found on the internet. It is quite appropriate for my work place as we have two sections, Engineering and Urban Planning. So the joke really suited our work place. Also thought it would be cool to try write some humourous poetry (and considering I can’t tell jokes thought best to use an existing joke). Enjoy!

Three men sat, vibrant muses over a beer
Footy blaring in the background,
Caring not for who was the victor,
A discussion at hand far more profound.

The doctor protested surgery the oldest profession,
For from Adam’s rib, God created Eve.
A strong argument to support his position.
So the engineer rolled up his fallen sleave,

Then spoke up, that God prior to us
Created order from chaos gone astray.
An engineering feat; the greatest truss!
Testament to the oldest profession today.

The last man, a planner, took a drink
Slowly a sly smile creased his face,
Self assured, he replied “And who do you think
Created the chaos in the first place?”


Posted by on Monday 20th August, 2012 in Poetry


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Cave In

Wrote this poem for a challenge on the Poet Sanctuary. The challenge required that the poem was 5 lines in length, had a colour (which was to appear in the poem), a homonym, a heteronym, a simile, and a rhyme scheme of a-a-a-a-a.

I stood at the caves entrance, afraid
Violet shadows hurry like a bat on parade.
Sunlight endeavours to refuse the shade,
Dare I enter? My mighty bat swayed,
A refuse tree branch. I am a charade.

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Posted by on Wednesday 15th August, 2012 in Challenge, Poetry


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