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The Tournament

Time for a ripping yarn, knights of old, chivalry and all that stuff.

TPOTG Knight on Horseback Frame 01

It was the feast of King Faust, the day of the joust,
And the weather was decidedly chilly.
The frost on the ground made a soft crunching sound
Under the hooves of Sir Lancelot’s filly.

He’d been up with the lark, and it was still somewhat dark
As he rode through Castle Camelot’s gate.
His earnest intent was to win the tournament,
So he was determined not to be late.

With sword and lance he was furnished, his armour well burnished,
All polished by John, his loyal squire.
They made quite a display as they set out on their way,
Both dressed in their finest attire.

Ahead lay a hard fight with the notorious Black Knight,
Sir Lancelot’s old formidable foe;
And as metal met metal, a score they would settle;
This day down in history would go.

The beautiful Guinevere, she was sure to be there,
Watching the contest from the grandstand.
Although they were not married, her colours he carried
And if he won he would ask for her hand.

Before that could be done, there was a fight to be won,
The squire had his knight to prepare;
With a hand that was steady, John got Sir Lancelot ready;
A horse and rider to make people stare.

The joust got under way shortly after mid-day,
The knights on either side of the tilt.
As they began to advance, lowering visor and lance,
There was no time for courage to wilt.

Charging now at full pace, the noise filled the place,
As the crowd began to raise their voices.
Where to aim for the best, at the head or the chest?
The knights had to make their quick choices.

First hit to the Black Knight, he got his choice right,
Striking Lancelot on his polished breast plate.
And with a crashing sound, he hit the hard ground,
Pulled down by his armour’s great weight.

The Black Knight quickly turned, chivalry was now spurned,
And he attacked Lancelot from the rear.
The crowd stopped their cheering, and now started jeering;
John shouted a warning, loud and clear.

At the sound of John’s voice, Lancelot made the right choice,
Swung around with his shield raised up high.
The Black Knight’s sword crashed, Lancelot’s shield was smashed,
It all happened in the blink of an eye.

TPOTG Black Knight Fighting

The Black Knight charged again, another blow tried to rain
Down upon brave Sir Lancelot’s head.
But Lancelot’s blade flashed, the attack had been dashed,
And the Black Knight lost his sword now instead.

Still mounted on horse, the Black Knight changed his course,
And galloped away for to get a new lance.
But squire John, with great speed, caught Sir Lancelot’s steed,
Giving the brave knight just one more chance.

Even with his armour to straddle, he was quick in the saddle,
Reined his horse round to face the Black Knight.
With his sword now held high, he charged with a full battle cry,
It made such a wondrous sight.

The Black Knight stood not a chance, the sword dealt with the lance,
The pole fell to the ground sliced in two.
Grass sods got churned, as brave Lancelot turned,
And with his sword ran the Black Knight clean through.

So much blood now gushed, as the Black Knight’s horse rushed
Towards the stone wall by the side of the Keep.
At the wall the horse stopped and the Black Knight, dead, dropped
To the ground, where he lay in a heap.

The crowd cheered their approval at the Black Knight’s removal;
Sir Lancelot jumped down from his horse.
Climbing on the grandstand, he took Guinevere’s hand,
And so history had taken its course.

Apathy – A Story About Today

“Apathy is the glove into which evil slips its hand”
Bodie Thoene

It’s the story of our apathy,
That I watch unfold,
I’ve written it in rhyme,
That’s how my stories are told;
It’s a story of how
We succumb to pretence,
And how fear and ignorance
Defeats common sense.

TPOTG Apathy Hand 01

A story about how privacy
And freedom of speech,
Will soon be just memories,
Taken out of our reach;
Of how with indifference
We are now so infected,
And of how we’ve become
So politically corrected.

A story of children
Being schooled, not educated,
Caught when they’re young,
Their minds impregnated;
A story of democracy
Brought to its knees,
Being ruled by world bodies,
Governed by appointees.

A story of falsehoods,
By politicians conceived;
Like man-made global warming,
How is that ever believed?
Brainwashed by propaganda,
The lack of understanding shows,
So many now spellbound
By the emperor’s new clothes.

An Orwellian future
Brought on by this apathy;
Our governments not controlled
In the way they should be.
Increasingly we’re indoctrinated
Into a minority’s way of thinking,
The foundations of our culture
Into the mire slowly sinking.

A reflection of our time
Of achievements reversed,
How by our ambivalence
We seemed to be cursed,
Our liberty just grains of sand,
Through careless hands poured,
We’ve abandoned life’s anchors,
So how are we secured?

To many out there
My story just won’t appeal,
Dumbed down and confused,
Can’t tell the false from the real;
But my story’s no fiction,
It grieves me to say,
It’s the story of our apathy,
It’s “A Story About Today”.

The Kitchen Sink Brigade

One of the few things my wife and I disagree on, dishwasher versus the sink, but as I’m the dishwasher ……….

Don’t mind washing dishes,
It helps me to think;
Warm soapy water,
A stainless steel sink.
To wash dishes clean
At an early age taught,
So to using a dishwasher
I just wouldn’t resort.

TPOTG Washing Dishes Frame

Don’t understand dishwashers,
First you have to stack them,
Then an hour and a half later
You have to unpack them.
Don’t see the point;
In half the time taken
Could wash a whole sink full,
If I’m not mistaken.

And that extra electricity
Have we gone completely insane?
Decided I’m going to start
A “Ban Dishwashers” campaign,
Will install myself as leader,
Of “The Kitchen Sink Brigade”,
You see, when washing dishes
Cool decisions get made!

The Wind Blew Last Week

Some of us do not take the threat of catastrophic man made climate change and the impending end of the world seriously enough, … but not me…

The wind blew last week and that was followed by rain,
So the proof was right there, so obvious, so plain
That climate change is real, how much evidence did I need?
I had to reverse it, or at least try to impede.

TPOTG End of World 01 with Frame

So I sold my car and every domestic appliance,
On anything electrical now I have no reliance,
Stopped changing my clothes and showering as well,
To save the planet I’m prepared to smell.

No more trips abroad on those big, evil aircraft,
I know some still travel, but they are just so daft,
Now if I want to go anywhere I just have to walk,
You see I take action, rather than just talking the talk.

Stopped eating any meat, well that goes without saying,
(Think of the virtue signalling I must be conveying!);
And for those that remain so hard to convince,
Well, there’s been no wind or rain, no sign of them since!

So am I carbon neutral? Well no, I’m still breathing,
CO2 gas in great quantity from my body is leaving,
So the world will just have to wait until I’m no more
To find out if the climate has stopped changing for sure.

Can My Poetry Save the World?

“Two things are infinite – the Universe and human stupidity and I’m not sure about the Universe”
Albert Einstein

TPOTG Thinking 01 with Frame

Can my poetry save the world?
Can it drag it back from the brink?
By using common sense and logic,
Encourage people to think.

Stop reality being replaced
By what they want us to believe;
The dumbing down of a generation,
Now so gullible, so naïve.

Where facts from emotions
Are no longer separated,
And with the most irrational of fears
Millions are so easily indoctrinated.

Critical thinking by rhetoric
Is now being replaced,
And those who try to reason
With so many challenges are faced,

Finding debate and discussion
Is no longer being used,
The group think must be worshipped,
Or they will be abused.

Teaching what to, not how to,
Educators being tasked,
An enquiring mind’s questions
Can no longer be asked.

So will reading my verse
Make people stop and reflect?
Refocus their minds,
Maybe make them suspect
That through relentless propaganda
It’s a new world order some seek;
Forcing their dangerous ideology
Onto the uninformed and the weak.

Priceless

Some things you just can’t put a price on….

It’s not just the plants that give me such pleasure,
Deep in my garden lies its real hidden treasure.

004 with frame.JPG

I use my garden to grow my soul,
To anchor my roots, to make me whole;
To understand how good it can feel
To weed out life’s trivia, to nurture what’s real;
To connect with nature, finding peace in its earth,
So how can I value what my garden is worth?

How To Look After Your Bougainvillea; An ‘Axe Tony’ Guide

About bougainvilleas
I’m writing a guide,
Using my methods
Which are trusted and tried.
Now if your plant is unruly,
And frustration grips
Then help is at hand,
Just follow my tips.
First hack off the branches,
Cut back as far as you can,
(With those dangerous spikes
That’s best left to a man).
When you’re just left
With the base of the plant
Take a good spade,
Held at a slant,
And dig out the roots,
Needs a little persistence,
I find wielding an axe
Overcomes their resistance.
Once the base and the roots
Are successfully removed
Throw them on the compost,
(Remember my method’s approved)
Then go tell your spouse
With a smile of your face
And her reaction will tell you
That you’re in disgrace.
So retrieve your bougainvillea
From the compost heap,
Dig a new hole
Nice and deep,
Add a little bonemeal
And some water too
And replant the bougainvillea,
It’s so easy to do.
And in a few months
You’ll see new branches shoot.
You see fixing a bougainvillea
Is really a hoot!

What Would We Do If The Internet Died?

Scientists who study the sun are pretty certain that at sometime in the future there will be bursts of solar radiation so strong that they will disable all satellites, maybe for a few minutes, or hours, or days, or even longer….

What would we do if the internet died?
A burst of solar radiation, all satellites fried,
Useless mobile phones, no signals detected,
Facebook, You Tube, WhatsApp disconnected.

No bank transactions, no salaries paid,
No card facilities, no purchases made;
Selfies taken that you just couldn’t send,
It would seem like the world had come to an end.

Billions of records that no one could access;
Governments and businesses in turmoil and mess.
With digital connections being totally destroyed,
Old school techniques would need to be redeployed.

But those skills are forgotten, or have never been learned;
We’d have to think for ourselves, but that rulebook’s been burned.
By surrendering control to orbiting satcoms
We’ve exposed ourselves to ticking time bombs.

I hope I’m not around to weep and lament,
Witness the chaos and mayhem of this forecast event;
Humanity in a mess from an internet freeze,
Lost and confused in a world brought to its knees.

Fountain Pen

I haven’t used a fountain pen for longer than I care to remember, and I forgot just how nice it feels. It is slightly more inconvenient than a ballpoint pen or a pencil, but I’m sure that I can learn to live with that; until I spill the bottle of ink, that is!

I found an old fountain pen,
Alas, it had run out of ink,
But I was lucky to find a store
Selling Parker’s famous black Quink:
Now I’m writing with that pen
And it’s oh, so much better,
Resulting in an overwhelming feeling
To write someone a letter.
I can’t remember the last time
I sent anything hand written by post,
Letters are typewritten then printed,
Although I use e-mails the most;
Not forgetting about social media,
Facebook and WhatsApp now the thing,
But the satisfaction of hand writing
Electronic communication can’t bring.

Days End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

TPOTG Days End 01

The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

Time for a ripping yarn, knights of old, chivalry and all that stuff.

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