Merry Wives of Windsor in a nutshell

A welshman, preacher, merry met
A frenchman, hot of temper, yet
A while they stood, and wagged a jaw,
Ere stag betwixt the trees they saw.

A beauty fair, and lover poor,
Adorned her hair with faun and flor
And caught thereby, in flaxen net
Three suitors, ill fish, none a pet.
One lover, penny-pinching flop,
One foreign boor, one drunken fop.

Two sires at odds, jealous of dam,
Convinced of cuckoldry and scam,
Employed the service of this beast
Hoping to convict at least the one
If not the brace. But yet, mistook
In faces fair the lusty humour
That their trials shook.

And in the end, as oft is true,
All well, all broke, all mended too.

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Narcissistic Relationships

I fell for a boy – it was some time ago
His manner seem’d pleasant, his wit was not slow.
I cared for him long, but what I did not know,
He cared for himself over all, what a blow!
And I failed to note as my tenderness grew
That the love I had found had turn’d me to a shrew.
As I look’d to his comfort, did bill and did coo,
He looked to another, and slept with him too.

An Homage to Harvey

My conscience did prick as I sat here awhile
About some certain things that have made this girl smile.
I’m not too P.C., I can laugh with the best
But a slight has a cost, even when a mere jest.
So be wary, my love, as you open to speak
Of the deeds of an Imam and Rabbi last week
For ’tis better to laugh with the head and the heart
Than to poke fun at others – your comments do smart!
A quick wit is all very well, but take heed:
A slow tongue’s more pleasant, in word as in deed.

Do unto others…

I did to another what he did to me
But revenge tasted bitter – not my cup of tea.
My regret was so great for the wrong I had done
That I gave him the option to hurt me again.
A circle I started, one vicious and sad.
I waltzed him around – yes, the ending was bad
For greater mistakes I made far more than he
In repeating the woes they returned back times three.
Such discord I sowed as I tried to break free
That our dance was a picture without harmony.
For no balance may rest where love cannot be found,
Thus twisting and painful, we fell to the ground.
Take notice, my dear, of the lesson I learnt:
Jump away from the fire when you have been burnt,
For returning to fuel it, again and again
Will bring you but blisters and plenty more pain.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls

In praise of technology I’d like to say
A lifetime’s achievement’s now done in a day
Life’s so much the easier for this great boon
There’ll be no further use for the labourer soon.
Instead of a fact’ry, there’s one great machine,
Much faster than men and a good deal more clean.
No more will I rise at the cockerel’s crow
For my function has gone, I am obsolete. Though
I wonder how long the machine will resist
The temptations of ‘progress’, ‘improvement’ persist.
I shall watch with much int’rest the cogs start to turn
For the call of the future is too hard to spurn.
And however intelligent engines may be
I doubt even they will escape you and me.
As our scientists shrink to the size of a pin
The machine in it’s splendour can now be breathed in.
And the seeds of development soon start to grow
As the bell for technology tolls long and slow.
Perhaps in the future I once more may find
A use for my hand and my heart and my mind.

Fanning the flames

Time and again I tell myself
‘You would do better on the shelf’
For saucy romp where once was lust
Is hard where one finds now but rust.
I feel for you what should be felt,
I try to force my heart to melt,
But finding love where there is none
But brotherly, is less than fun.
Thou wooest me, thou plead’st thy case,
And lie with me, I know thy face
But yearn for one of old, Alas!
A Jack who is ne’er coming back.
So here we sit, in comfort sure,
But stale and dry, and not of yore.
And hence I know mine enemy,
Greatest of all: my memory.
To fight a foe within my mind
Is quite a chore I now do find.
But choose I did, and choosing well
Have thus consigned myself to dwell
Within a hell of my heart fashion’d,
Barren life, lacklustre passion.
You, my love, with whom I live,
I gave myself, I must forgive.
For loving me is all your crime,
Not knowing lust from love was mine.

Ode to a lost love

My love lay down in pastures green
As I cried out return to me
That which you took – I willingly
Would give again, but can’t you see?
I needs must show a worldly face
And so in public can embrace
No more my lusty jackanape,
Alone I cried – my heart did break
To see you turn away from me,
Thus leaving me to misery.
Where once was sworn repeatedly
In youth to Love a fealty.
I no more young, to work must go,
And try to find some youthly glow,
Reconquering what seemed as sure
To me as sea that meets the shore.
My daily task has thus become
To go in search of further fun:
To find new worlds of memory
Within this gulf where once was thee.

Lean on me

A mystery it is to me
Why people can’t more friendly be?
Tho’ time anon ’tis proven so
We need a friend in times of woe,
We fear to trust, we hesitate,
Until ’tis almost grown too late,
Then jealously, with scant affect,
We let our love peep out a bit.
A heart upon a sleeve do we
All mock in abject misery
Then wondering at loneliness
In modern times – we are a mess!
I wish, yet fear I wish in vain
To have my time over again.
The things I’ve done, I would undo,
That I could show more love to you
That I don’t know – we have not met,
But I would share that I might yet
Receive again that which is gone
The love I gave adieu, anon.
And so the world – less worldly might
Be given over to delight,
As gentles all we do agree
Our need for care is all you see.
If loneliness you would defeat,
Be kind to others that you meet,
For you may find greater return
In giving, ere it comes your turn.

Patriotism in far-off places

My sometime love for hearth and home
Lies not by fire, nor yet with those
Acquaintance of my passing day
For things material fade to grey
And colour-leeched, do turn to dust
They in my plains of mem’ry rust.
But lusty, strong, my heart does beat,
Not gazing ‘pon familiar street,
No haunt it loves, no buildings stir
My choosy organ, yet I fear,
That trav’ling through a countryside
All brown and barren, far and wide
Doth wake in me a tender gleam
For skies of grey and fields of green.
As seen from windows of a train,
My mind’s eye flashes ‘pon the rain
And ‘midst the warmth of climes more sunny
Tho’ yes – I also find it funny
Born not of humour, more of pain
I wish to be back home again.

A Stitch in Time…

Relax, said the wristwatch, his owner a flurry
For time moves too quickly when you’re in a hurry
And I need my rest or I’ll go double speed
And your life will be only the length of a reed.
Have patience, dear timepiece. The busy man said.
If I don’t make this meeting, I’m better off dead.
Oh pish, said the wristwatch, don’t butter me up.
No job’s worth this madness, you should try your luck
At giving another man the time of day
For you aren’t precisely happy this way.
Don’t know what you mean, the busy man huffed
As he clutched at his briefcase and doubled up, puffed.
I believe that you do, sighed the wristwatch, ashamed
As his owner tried vainly to breathe in again.
Don’t panic, just listen to tock and to tick
You’ll be panting again my dear sir, double quick.
But not one reply did the busy man give
For his rushing had sped through the time he’d to live.
So you see you should heed what your clock has to say
And learn to take time, not just rush through the day.