Worcestershire:
Sir Worcestershire the fur shaver,
Sir shaves fur for her,
He shaves with a razor,
But the more fur he gave her only labeled him a cur.
Cur Worcestershire curtain cutter,
£2 per curtain cut,
Cur cuts for her,
He cuts curtains curtly,
Gets home by 8:30,
And mails them all to her,
But for each curtain cut,
He gets mauled by her mutt,
So she calls him a burr,
Burr Worcestershire loves her for sure,
Each week he works,
Ignores all the perks,
Just to send gifts to her.
She doesn’t like it,
And has often been chided,
To leave Worcestershire for dirt,
Worcestershire now nameless,
Wandered around aimless,
Until revelation hit him like a truck,
He should start working in muck!
To become more of a charmer,
Worcestershire worked as a cow farmer,
He milked mama moo-moos monthly,
Lending litres to the hungry,
Each morning he sends her dairy,
Now their relationship is quite hairy.
In his dedication, he forgot his aim,
To make her happy, he must now take the blame.
He presents himself to her,
His feelings laid out,
Whether Sir, Cur, or Burr,
His love for her is true.
Realising his mistakes, the manliest thing a man could do,
He asks her for forgiveness, even if he’s punished he won’t pout.
Moved by his honesty, she reaches out her hand,
Pokes him in the eyes, and banishes him from the land.
By Anonymous
Dawn.
The sun rises.
Silence
Consumes the whole world,
Nothing-
Moves or speaks at all,
Colours scream with glory because sounds cannot silence them-
Eternity passes,
The slow hurrying of the sun
And the beauty of dawn,
Blooming into space-
The flower whose honey’d petals,
Glisten with a fragrance sweeter than ignorant bliss.
Cold, dew-laden grass shimmers with the rising light,
Stretching its arms, sunshine basks the East
In its warm glow. Yet caught in the moment,
Time passes quickly,
At once,
Dawn is gone.
When the sun labours up above, blistering heat
Glaring down,
And life slows to a lull,
Brooks burble,
Crickets hum in-tune with the sun,
Birds flit between branches
Singing sweet melodies,
The wooded undergrowth,
Rustling quietly, cool with the hush of wonders
Dozing sleepily, yet,
Others’ restlessness,
Adds to the symphony of nature, and-
The sun, still, stuck in time, watching over all,
The glorious blue, hugging yellow.
Time passes.
Where sky was once blue, the sun bleeds
Across the horizon, reaching to embrace the west.
A sigh of relief,
Descending,
A golden eve weaving scarlet whispers through the clouds,
The sun drifts down from the sky,
Gone.
The aether’s blue seems a void,
An awesomeness that consumes the soul whole in its
Suffocatingly sublime beauty.
Sky darkens, washed over with a brilliant indigoan velvet.
Seconds pass, and the twilight saturates the fading empyrean.
The sky exhales,
Extinguishing the light of the sun, then,
Dusk disappears into the night,
Darkness.
By Anonymous
Complaints to the chef
I wish I want I would have had,
If only there was a god.
Tokens of kindness, scripture be true.
Thankfully there’s none left of you.
Take what you wanted, kiss your goodbyes,
Into the fire of a scornful eye.
Languish, lament. Slowest pace, up ahead.
Yet roads do not end when upwards fed.
Take on your shoulders, wishes, worries true,
Beleaguered by burdens of solitude.
By Anonymous
Blind Sight
Staring at my reflection in the lake,
Eyes darting from left to right,
Rippling the water,
Watching the sky turn from day to dusk as evening sets in.
Darkness spreads through the clouds,
Intertwined with the night.
Moonlight shines down,
A melancholy mess, strewn through unforgiving clouds
That race across the sky to judge their next victim.
That otherworldly twilight,
Engraved in my soul,
The slight chill,
And blind light,
Darker still, the sky aches with fatigue,
Laying to rest it’s hopeful dreams.
Midnight is here.
A light speckled abyss,
Two eyes staring into space,
Mine.
The entirety of all that is known and unknown gazes through me.
Feeling the nothingness seeping into my soul I cry.
Both for the magnitude of everything, and for the insignificance of myself.
My tears fill the abyss of the night,
Pulling on the fabric of space-time and bursting out as stars.
The origin of the universe,
Our planet,
And I.
By Anonymous
Elements Magazine 