Y’all took the u out of humour
Yoo took it out of colour too
I think yoo should honour r langwidge
If yer going to ewes it yoo know.
Yew’d think that a country called Yew S
Wud honour the letter ‘u’.
So why don’t you want to ewes it?
Let’s hear it for the letter ‘U’.
This is my tale of a chai wallah
Met on an Indian train
If you’ve heard it before forgive me for
You are going to hear it again.
We are travelling on an Indian train
The only non Indians there.
A chai wallah’s moving down the train
And I guess you know the score.
He’s calling out to sell his wares
So this is what we heard,
“Chai, chai, chai, chai.”
Moving down the train.
“Chai, chai, chai, chai.”
Closer all the time.
“Chai, chai, chai, chai”,
Until he got to me.
Without the slightest hint of pause
Or any break in rhythm
He changed his call
As he went by me
And this is what we heard.
“Chai, chai, chai, chai,
Chai, chai, Tea, chai, chai”.
He changed his call from chai to tea
Just as he went by me.
Two nations tied together
By so much history
I hope we share our humour
And it’s funny to him
As to me.
Don’t you worry, don’t you fret
The future hasn’t happened yet.
Deal with troubles when they come
Fretting don’t help anyone.
To worry is to pay a debt
That we have not incurred just yet.
May not happen, may not come.
Fretting won’t help anyone.
The past is past, it’s done, it’s gone
The future’s future not yet come.
All we have’s the here and now
And that is quite enough for now.
via Fret
A response to the Daily Prompt
Who put the fog in forgetful
Who put the blank in my mind?
Thoughts that were in there one time
Are so much harder to find.
Who tied the knot in my hankie?
What was it there to remind?
Something I can’t remember
Need help with jogging my mind.
Somehow it slipped my memory
Was painfully pushed to one side
Some things are better forgotten
There’s times I can’t bring to mind.
My mind is gently slipping
And taking sad memories away
Somewhere and somehow you’re in there
But you’re gone and there’s nothing to say.
The man’s an outsider,
The man’s a crank.
He’s not one of us
So let’s close ranks.
Crank up the rhetoric,
Crank up the lies.
Hes not one of us
He’ll be ostracized.
The man’s an outsider
The man’s a crank
Crank up the rhetoric
And shove him aside.
via Crank
A response to the Daily Prompt
The sea went out. I missed the tide.
I’m stranded, abandoned, left on shore.
My dreams, ambitions all denied.
The sea went out I missed the tide
Like flotsam, jetsam cast aside;
My hopes are dashed, I’m feeling sore.
The sea went out. I missed the tide.
Stranded, abandoned, left on shore.
The tide goes out but will come in
The waves will touch my feet again.
I’ll feel their splash against my skin.
The tide goes out but will come in.
Chances return though odds seem slim.
I’ll be prepared; be ready then.
The tide goes out but will come in.
The waves will touch my feet again.
My song’s not an air, not a chant or a ditty
Not an: aria, canticle, ballad or hymn.
It’s simply these lines that keep running in my head,
Make me hum, tap my fingers, before long have to sing.
It’s nothing too grand, it might not make you cry.
Not a poem, not a hymn, not a psalm or lullaby
It doesn’t have great lyrics; it barely has a tune
But it’s a song to sing along to so just give it a try.
Songs can raise the spirits, songs can bring you down.
Here’s no rousing anthem, not much melody.
But once you start to sing it; it’ll carry you along
And your friends will all join in before too long.
And your friends will all join in before too long.
via Song
A response to the Daily Prompt
He meant to be both good and true.
But where he was was who he’d be
He would not wish to lie to you.
He thought he knew just who to be
Yet acted inconsistently.
He’d different faces, different lives.
His life so lacked integrity
That all the lives he lived were lies;
Not really sure of who he was.
Or who it was he meant to be.
A face for faces that he met
He was not whole, he was not free.
He couldn’t be true, would often forget
What he was for and who he was.
He couldn’t live authentically.
He hid himself afraid they’d see.
The self he’d hidden deep inside.
His hidden vulnerability.
He could not show them who he was.
Something deep inside had died.
Morgue-file photo by vickiayala
Once we were legion, now we’re depleted.
So few of us now; we used to be more.
There’s me and my brothers, a few others too
Not sure about some of them; not sure of you!
Surrounded, depleted, outnumbered too few
Our ranks are diminished, whose with us, are you?
Do you stand where you once did? Do you stand with us now?
Our numbers depleted, we sorely need you.
Certainties questioned, the things we once knew,
We’re down to the hard core, the core chosen few.
Rally the ranks, stay true to the cause
it may be a lost cause but surely it’s yours?
via Deplete
We hate chemical warfare
Dropping the wrong kind of bombs.
We’re taking retaliatory action
Because chemical bombing is wrong.
Our smart bombs will all hit their target
Make sure no civilians are hurt
But if we hit any women or children
At least they’re the right kind of bombs?
We still sell conventional weapons
We don’t care who they’re sold too
We hope they won’t kill any children
Though the ‘right kind’ of bombs sometimes do.
Andrew Green's Poems 