ifuliki's channel

Not to get too serious, an entomologist and his musicologist friend were walking in the cemetery of their parish church while the boy's choir was practicing an anthem for next Sunday`s service. The musicoligist aroused by the beauty of the boys voices said,`` Listen, George isn`t that beautiful.``
``Yes, Paul`` replied the entomoligist aware only of the loud chirping of the grasshoppers, ``and to think they make that sound by rubbing theeir back legs together``.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Take a silken spider`s web adorned the morn with pearls of dew
Add to this the warming morning sun
Interweave a gentle zexphyr blowing cooling air across an ocean blue
Add the bubbled cooing of a life begun
Do not forget the laughter of the kids when summer`s come
The quiet lullaby of a nursing girls
The joy of listening to the quiet garden symphony of insect's hum
The fluting notes of nesting English Merles
The thunder of a mighty organ that roars its heavenly praise
All of these for me are life's sweet joys
But for all of them combined I my glass shall raise
At sight and sound of choirs of singing boys.
. The Boy he Wants is You
Where d'ya get the medals, Dad?
Does this one mean you're tough? Never mind my little son.
Did ya do some real brave stuff ?
Were you a real brave soldier Dad?
Where'd they make you go?
I'll tell you when you're older son.
You're still too young to know.
You've got two purple hearts I see;
Are those the wounds you hide?
You see the scars on top my son,
But not the wounds inside.
Did you have to kill a man?
Would he have killed you first?
Do not ask more questions son.
I feel that I've been cursed.
But Dad I have to know these things.
Your medals sure are swell.
I shall go to war perhaps
WAR MY SON IS HELL!
The things you do to stay alive
The men you leave behind
The kids that lose their Daddies
The men who come back blind
The boys who lose a leg or hand
The girls who lose a man
The billions that they spend on war
Forget how it began
Hell it is but more my son
It's just plain stupid too
He'll stay at home who starts a war
The boy he wants is YOU!
The boy he needs is YOU!
The boy that goes is YOU -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- QUESTION PERIOD IN OTTAWA
We wish for more decorum
In the nation's forum.
They seek to teach the masses,
They act like silly asses. --o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- DEATH
With fear or hope we think of thee,
Where will we be f'r eternity.
Thou tak'st away all pain and strife
Yet end'th f'r us all joys of life
Separate from all those we love
To see again in heaven above?
Should we thus, Death, welcome thee
To be no more fr'eternity?
We cannot know. Yet we are told
By those who make those statements bold. THE BEAUTY OF MOSAICS




The beauty of mosaics discovered on an ancient Roman floor;
Sandpipers dancing in the gentle ripples on a wave-swept English shore;
The wide expanse of Neptune's realm from Dover's sunny cliff;
The wonder of a boy I wish I'd known and still say "only if".
The ugliness of cityscapes disguise/d now by winter's first fresh snows;
The freshness of sod green shoots, and that emerging first spring rose;
Young David springing forth beneath the sculptor's hand from alabaster block;
All beauteous forms of boys they carved in ancient times from marble rock.
Exquisite Helen who drew ten thousand men across the wine-dark sea;
The joyous slave boy's merry laugh when told that now he's free;
That lovely, first dear smile that breaths, "I love you" from your child;
The freshness of the air when rainstorm's gone in places wild.
The brightness of the sun when's past the darkness of a storm;
The tiny hand, the perfect foot, the beauty of an infant's toes;
A gentle maiden's heaving breast as still she stands in artist's pose.
All those I dearly love but none of the above yet maybe all
Together will perhaps match the image of that boy I now recall;
A picture in my mind for ever in my brain by memory froze;
That boy I watched as still he quietly slept when I arose.
Aug 2007
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- WALES

There is a land I know it well,
A land across the sea.
Where my kith and kin did dwell
A land that's dear to me.
It is place of wild sea coasts,
Of mountains, moors and vales
And the greatest folk on earth, I boast
That land I love is Wales
"One day I must return," I cry,
"To breath sweet Cymru's air.
I vow I'll go before I die
To a land that's sweet and fair.
To hear that ancient tongue once more
The invaders could not quell."
I yearn to cross that rocky shore,
Sing the songs I love so well.

Any poem of mine may be copied and reproduced by anybody who enjoys it

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