777 - Sonnet of three sevens

Three sevens, three flags blowing in the wind
Three spires of Lichfield, ladies of the vale
Three funnels of an ocean liner, lined
Around the top with black, three smoky trails
Three meerkats balanced on haunches and tails
Three leaning towers after an earthquake
Three tottering battlements deep in Wales
After the locals died for freedom’s sake
Three gibbets awaiting their next neck break
Three axes raised, hoping three necks to find
Three upturned golf clubs in a bag in Hale
After a round, waiting while thirst is slaked
Three horses or three greyhounds wait behind
Three gates for gunfire; which one will prevail?
Mon 20 Oct 2008

700 - Licensed to quill

James Bond reversed, not by some evil guy
Who ties him up, points a gun at his head
And then, inexplicably, lets him try
To escape, which he does; villain instead
Biting the dust soon after. No. I said
James Bond reversed, meaning by my good self
In using the number 700
Apparently, blogging’s good for the health
Publishing thoughts on a virtual bookshelf
Permits your internal conflict to fly
Somewhere out there where it is detected
Deflecting stress, defusing it by stealth
So I urge you, for your own sake, to try
It’s cheaper than the gym, James. So to bed
Mon 4 Aug 2008

669 - Freedom's yoke

Fourth of July, old anniversary
Of independence from the British rule
With similar feelings in Zimbabwe
Yes, colonisation it sure ain’t cool
But freedom brings responsibility
The kind that we all face when leaving school
When left to ourselves we can’t always see
What our next move should be, and can be fooled
By short-term gain, paid for expensively
In later years, as long-term debt accrual
Devours that freedom, causes enmity
And hardship, civil war, long-running duel
Between future wealth and immediacy
Yes, freedom often is a tarnished jewel
Fri 4 July 2008

666 - The sonnet of the beast

The name of this beastly verse? 666!
That’s ‘six six six,’ you daft devil, not six
Hundred and sixty-six. Oh, take your pick;
Same thing, ain’t it? Saints hate it. John depicts
The beast at the time of apocalypse
Behaving badly, more than men. He flits
And flops about, putting us in a fix
Causing us to forget the crucifix
Which has some bad effects that almost nix
Our slim resurrectionary prospects
But never fear, fear God, read his edicts
In Biblical tracts, obey Benedict’s
Dictates and those of prelates; I predict
That by eternal flames you’ll not be licked
Tue 1 July 2008

648 - Perfect day

Like every other blogger in the world
Okay, not you, him or her, but the rest
The subject of this poem is foretold
By today’s date. Let’s put it to the test
Have bad things happened? No, it’s been the best
Day possible in the circumstances
Although for some nights now I’ve had no rest
And even not eaten (had no chances
Except for twelve scotch eggs for lunch), munches
Or lack of notwithstanding, I’m not sold
On the bad luck thing, and I’ll now attest
That Friday the thirteenths have no glitches
Or hitches hatching, and I’ll be so bold
As to declare them safe, touch wood, God bless
Fri 13 June 2008

632 - A mathematical problem

I’d love to tear your clothes off, oh my love
I’d dearly love to do it, oh my dear
I’d really love to gaze where legs are wove
Into the body above, long and clear
Nobody interrupts or interferes
Slowly erupting volcanic desire
Climbing the Mount of Venus and the pair
Of foothills further on with strawberry spires
This food for thoughts of love, music for lyre
I oughtn’t brood on, but can’t move on, love
Although I can’t move on you when we are
When we are two not one, you don’t require
Subtraction, multiplication, but div-
Ision, your decision that costs me dear
Wed 28 May 2008

444 - Fourteen on 444

Three crosses side by side on Calvary Hill
Three bosses with crossed arms, cross expressions
Three yachts that are not sailing but are still
Three tots on fourth birthday, fortunate sons
Three pines await festive axe incisions
Three felines tiptoe, curious tails aloft
three ballerinas, all three pretty ones
Three Valentinos, hats fittingly doffed
Three former bipeds, drunk (too much ale quaffed)
Three warmer ice-free sleds sliding downhill
Three triangles fighting with knives and guns
Three hard machines becoming slightly soft
Three entangled knots caught in water's spill
Three sardines humming their night-swimming songs

Thur 22 Nov 2007

404 - 14 on 404

Phwoarrr, 404's a poem in itself!
Start from the left and it says 404
Start from the right, the same. There is a wealth
Of balanced sound and vision. If you're sore
It's 'LOL' crossed out, if written, or
If typed, two yachts each side of setting sun
Or two pines in moonshine, awaiting saw
For I fear 404 has just begun
404's a cricket score; someone's won
But probably not England. Or it's wealth
Measured in dollars if your country's poor
Or pages in a schoolbook - that's no fun!
I've used 'wealth' twice - this poem's in poor health
It's falling on the floor. Oh 404!
Sat 13 Oct 07

333 - Three threes make three hundred and thirty three

Three threes make three hundred and thirty three,
Or you can add three threes up and get nine;
Three threes, trinity of a trinity;
Three quatrains, three rhyme sounds to end a line.
Three strains of “Oh my darling” Clementine;
In the year 333 St Helen died,
Constantinople named by Constantine;
It’s half the number of the beast John spied;
Two little fleas plus one, bingo man cried.
A third of telephone emergency;
A third of thrice-repeated German “nein;”
Three insects each into three parts divide.
The Third Reich began 1933;
To Dante, three times thirty-three’s divine.
Fr1 3 Aug 2007