Ancho and Chipotle

Ancho and Chipotle
at the same time
in my wings
ease us into an evening’s entertainment

Who’s to say there’s no
for half price margaritas

It all helps us
to enjoy/endure
open mic night

Most trying their best
with others’ creativities
but some original
the precious few
are worth the attention

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Twelvetide Silliness coming: run for the hills!

I think I’ve recovered from the April Silly poems ordeal and am planning a December flight of folly when I’m off work and more inclined to wax poetical. So I thought the Twelve Days of Christmas would be an appropriate venue for some more silly poetry. That would involve a daily dose from December 25th to January 5th. People are often too filled with Christmas turkey, ham and/or sweets to run away effectively so it’s a great time for poetical torture (think Vogon poetry).

If anyone has any suggestions for topics I would be glad to consider those ideas for that dirty dozen and I would certainly give credit where it is due although you might not wish to provide your actual name for fear of armed mobs and other, possibly more subtle, retaliation for encouraging me.

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Blue Clothed Lady

The concert
ran from
dramatic to humour
national to crossing boundaries
and we enjoyed
the piano, choir and soloists all.
following each particular excellence
sometimes during
the blue clothed lady would stand in the front row
as elegant as a queen,
and sit.
Sometimes she’d
go purposely
in front of centre stage
and the soloist.

It was surprising, distracting,
unusual, funny
and then annoyingly individual
for me
much more so for the

It continued on,
the bobbing. Through intermission, through the second half.

But I wonder now
when the applause has died
and the venue is quiet
she and not I
with my small addition
to the group-clap
did more
to express

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Further down the road
the grass grows
and the wind sings

The signs
stork less
from the edge
but the birds
don’t think
about how lonely
it is.

The people
you find there
are quiet
on their own
as they have
foregone their

Here they
my reluctant
so still
life silts up
leaving me

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What is larger
than life?
Stranger than fiction?

I know I can
and do
I can’t just go
to the Emergency
and see someone in handcuffs.
I have to add
make the story make
my kind of sense,
make it funny.

When it clearly isn’t.
Maybe because it isn’t.

I mean.
I’m there for something not funny
So was he.

But if it’s funny
there’s a change
that seems to help.

If I author
my own
for you you’ll use
me sense
and nonsense
about why we are here and still alive.

No wonder
a sense of humour
is valued.
It’s no practical stratagem.
No sure solution.
But it might let you cope
with a little
less drudgery.

So it is ltl?
Is it stf?

‘Cause that’s
we need it
to be.

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Carmina Burana may save us

Karen, Justin, some friends and I attended the closing show of Boris Brott’s Music Festival last night in Hamilton. I was on holiday so it was a bit of pain to get there but it was a chance to see Emily sing in the choir and I was very glad we made it. Their Carmina Burana was outstanding and deserved the standing ovation they received. I enjoyed their rendition of the Chichester Psalms by Bernstein too. Emily’s teacher Leslie Fagan was the soprano soloist and she did an amazing job in both pieces.

It constantly amazes me to see people, especially young people, who can work together in such a finely tuned coordination of skill, timing and motivation to produce such an unlikely reversal of entropy. That’s what an orchestral work with a choir is: literally hundreds of people absolutely in sync for a handful of hours. An amazing sign that there are signs of hope for our species when you think the world is unravelling.

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Sickness blesses
at times
not like a blessure
but maybe so
now that I reflect
as it gives us halt.

Which is always

And that
allows introspection
and pause
to absorb
more and slower
so you
see what you
missed at breakneck

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