Celeste

CELESTE          P.J. Murphy

If I could 
induce Zeus
to rearrange
the heavens...

I'd have the
night skies dappled
with your eyes

And the dawn
adorned
with your smile.

Some Limericks

A Selection of Limericks     P.J. Murphy

"NUTS"
======

The squirrel's an odd little chappie
He's normally placid and happy
But, no if's and but's
Put your hand on his nuts
And he'll riddle your ass pretty snappy

He's usually spotted in trees
Which he climbs with the greatest of ease
You think he looks cute
'Till he takes aim to shoot
And you suddenly find you've no knees

A stroll in the woods can be pleasant
Watching rabbit and peacock and pheasant
But you really should worry
Get out in a hurry
'Cos the squirrel's attacks are incessant

To conclude, if with woodland you're charmed
I suggest that you should be alarmed
Though you feel no foreboding
The bugger's reloading
Watch out - those damn squirrels are armed!


LIMERICK JUNCTION
=================

I knew a girl from Tipperary
Who's legs were incredibly hairy
The hairs grew in size
from her toes to her thighs
After that, it was just bloody scary...

WHERE'S FIFI?
============

















A corpulant woman from Delhi
Had a body that quivered like jelly
From her couch she stood up
And her poor little pup
Had got lost in the folds of her belly

A lady who hailed from Madras
Was a really voluptuous lass
She's searched for her pet
But with no success yet
'Cause he's wedged in the crack of her ass

A voluptuous girl from Kirkut
was distraught at the loss of her mutt
Her search was in vain
The poor dog was in pain
He was trapped in the cleft of her butt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: This was an entry for an AllPoetry contest, where the image was the contest prompt, and won the Gold Trophy for First Place in the contest

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




POT NOODLE
==========
I once fed the family poodle
With some leftover stale apple strudel
The dog promptly shat
and the texture of that
Was exactly like Chicken Pot Noodle....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



DES MOINES
==========

I hope you'll enjoy this short ditty
Of a girl who was potless but pretty
She does end up rich
From becoming a bitch
Which was really a terrible pity

The tale's of a girl from Des Moines
Who hadn't a note or a coin
She took to the streets
Meeting sailors from fleets
And now her bank balance is 'foine'

With her ill-gotten gains she felt plucky
so she bought a stud farm in Kentucky
The horses, she reckoned
would come first, or second
- and she'd still get a ride, if she's lucky.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

S'NO JOKE...

==========
















It may have been foolish to go
Mow the lawn in a downpour of snow
As well as the grass
I cut half of my ass,
An elbow, two shins and a toe

~~~~~~~~~~


TIMING?
=======

I'm really obsessed about rhyming
Writing words that are pealing and chiming
So a ditty like this
Is a real piece-of-piss
.. so long as I stay completely focussed and concentrate on my timing.......


~

Raw Talent

========

I gave it my very best shot

- got all of the stuff in the pot.

Peppered and salted it

It's not my fault that

the cooking's the bit I forgot...

Quietude

dusky
descendants
of quixotic
mutineers

perform
practiced
perfected
polynesian dance

erotic

on soft
Tahitian sand

my hands
drip with dregs
of spilt exotic
citrus

sundried
by lustrous lagoon
insidious
hynotic tune
and rhythm
consume

dancers,
semiclad,
gyrate,

waves lap...


shrill
shriek

shatters
mood of
quietude

Rude
awakening

Rainy
Irish
Monday...

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

www.guitarsongs.info pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com  

Moonstruck

Moonstruck     P.J. Murphy

Okay, I appreciate that you've

been always there for me
through each long tortuous,
restless, sleepless night

And brightened up the gloom
each time I broke down when
some floozy made my fickle
foolish fragile heart a mess

And yes, 'twas you who kept me
company when no other friends
were there to offer comfort
in my deepest darkest night

But, right now I just feel
That I can't furnish any answers
to your sad fixation with this
fiery, feisty object of your lust

I must point out to you, in fact
that you have chased this hot
and haughty goddess, with no ray of hope
for thousands of millenia now

And how much longer, my pale friend
Can you sail sadly through the night
hoping for a glimpse or sight of she
who always dodges you till dawn?

And ~yawn~ you know it's really late
I don't feel great and need my sleep
I'd love to keep you company but
We both know she'll hide until you're gone

Just one last piece of genuine advice
- there are millions out there who
are twice as nice, and like to hang around
with you, I've even seen them swoon...

So goodnight moon, aw - please don't cry
There's plenty more stars in the sky...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Goodnight Moon",  

 www.guitarsongs.info pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Aurora Corporalis

Aurora Corporis           P. J. Murphy

bursts of
flame's glory
in moments
before
ember fades
and dies



exhausted;
exothermic
energy
explodes -

Magdala Red
and
Magnesium
Orange -



the colours
of a soul

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was submitted to an Allpoetry Contest "Prewrite Party".

www.guitarsongs.info
pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com
 

Galileo

Galileo        P. J. Murphy

Gifts of celestial truths
he brings to them,
charts, orbits, trajectories
- order and meaning
to the chaos
that is
the cosmos.

Long years observing,
plotting, deducing,
concluding
re-constructing
God's universe
for those whose eyes
would never see
further than their
misconceptions.

Magisterium,
by way of gratitude
remove freedom,
God-given rights.
Father of Science,
strident follower
of  trails of stars,
now trails strides
between portals
in prison-home

Bereft of confiscated
tools of Science,
nightly seated
by high barred window
intent on Tuscan night sky.
Eyes dart to locate
Sirius, Jupiter, Mars.
Memory telescopes,
repaints the universe
in all of its celestial majesty.


An AllPoetry contest entry, the theme "Telescope"

Galileo Galilei, known as the Father of Science, was a scientist and astronomer, whose theories on heliocentricity ( earth revolving around the Sun, rather than vice versa ) led to his being put under house arrest by Pope Urban VIII .

Sink or Swim? ( a Piscean fish tale )

I swim simultaneously
in both directions
a synchronized confusion
at once clear-thinking
and muddle-headed

It works.
Most of the time.

Thoughtlessness and compassion
compete, I feel deeply for those
less well off than I,
but have to force myself to remember
to actually do something

My love of music drives me (crazy...),
my laziness ensures mediocrity, at best
I strum and sing
And promise myself
I will learn the harder things.

Tomorrow.
Next week, at the latest.

My fertile imagination -
a breeding ground for grand ideas
which scuttle off of the page.
- once I've finally
found a pen.

Indecision my Nemesis.
So many great ideas
for things to make
friends and family happy.
Or would they?

But for my acceptance
of who I am
and who I'll never be
I would stop swimming
altogether.

And sink.
To the bottom.


This was another AllPoetry contest entry, one of a series of Astrological themes, this one being obviously "Pisces".

Who Are You?

You, you who wage this war
spatter children in the rubble
piss on your conquered enemy
torture and humiliate your captives
speak lightly of 'collateral damage'
while pieces of families
are fumbled from crumbled concrete
Consider this.

You are an accident of your birth.
It caused your allegiance to your country,
to the fundamentalism of your religion,
to a taught hatred of an enemy
whose birthright is also accidental
who hates and wants to kill you
because of where you live
and the God you believe in.

Strip away your flag.
Remove your pious garb.
Forget for a moment
Your ancestral dead.

Who
Are
You?

Sinecure

He remembers a time
when he was the centre
of the circle.

A social hub, a club
close colleagues, no -
more than that -
firm friends...

Spontaneous
sojourns to the pub
on Friday evenings
...just for a quick one.

Rolling home
at Eleven-thirty
bursting with
camaraderie
and a full bladder.

A pleasant institution
in their voluntary
institutionalised
Public Service
sinecure

So hard to
stick a pin
in the point
of change

Drive.
Disillusionment.
Disinterest.
Dismissals.
Dispersals.

Deaths.


All leading toward
this unfamiliar place
sharing space with
strangers with names.

Hearty
hallos
in halls.
Hollow.

Next Friday
they will
toast his health
tell bawdy
half-remembered
stories, badly.

Exaggerate his
achievements.
Present him with
their heartfelt gift

( travel vouchers
he will never use -
he has no heart for travel
since he lost her.
How would they know? )

Monday
the alarm will ring.
He will turn it off
one final time.

He will accept
well meant
invitations
to future
Friday frolics.

Until
one Friday
the strangers
will have no names.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was an entry for an Allpoetry contest where the prompt was the line "strangers with names", and won the Bronze trophy for 3rd place in the contest

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Bull

Ok, so we've
lied a little

They need our lies -
our reconstruction
of the fables
is what keeps them
hanging on to
the dream


The faithful.
Bless 'em.

Follow us
on the
fast-track
to Heaven


They swallow it all
- transubstantiation
( literally...)
the whole
omnipotent
omniscient and
omnipresent God
trichotomy

explained
expertly,
excursively...

ethically
morally
mystically


Divine Mystery

Say it often enough, it acquires substance
Two thousand years of repetition
create an article of faith most absolute
for those in fervent need of absolution


We make the world
a better place
as fear of Hellfire
and damnation
( did I mention 'Vengeful?' )
keep them in check -
a docile flock
the Good Shepherd
ensures
the silence
of the lambs

So we will continue
to fire our canon
at the ninety-nine
who suckle on it's
outpourings
perpetuated by this
Papal Bull.

Ah... Men...

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was an entry for an AllPoetry Contest "Take a step back ( Round 2 )" http://allpoetry.com/contest/2374596 and won Gold for 1st place


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Poetry

What Lies Beneath

Never terribly
far away, they
clamour constantly
to make their
presence felt..

Suppressed,
repressed,
bubbling
just below
the surface,
they jeer this
veneer of
stolid, solid
middle-aged
respectability

"Hush", I tell them
this is not
the time nor place
to show your face
and we are not
as young as
we once used to be

I guess
I'd always
just assumed
that they would
fade away and die
dissolving with
the remnants of
my long-lost
misspent youth

But no, they tease
and taunt and pester,
these ghosts of
rampant yesteryear.

"Someday", I promise,
"I will let you
out to play again".

And then, By God,
let the world beware...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Where the Wild Things Are"

City Lights Fade

Inert gases
tout tawdry
titillations

Illuminate
paved paths
to hellish
haunts

Bad intentions
in sin soaked
stagnant pond

Lurid
invitations
dazzle -
guzzle,
gamble
drink,
debauch...

illicit felicity,
fun and frolic
unfurled in
neon netherworld

~~~

Disenchanted
denizen
forges Ford
forward
- final glance
at pallid promises -
- Gomorrah still
glows gaudy

Firefly flits,
points pathway
to reality,
to civilized
enlightenment

In rear-view
mirror
Babylon
burnishes
fainter,
ever
fainter

Along with
it's
delusive
dreams

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Errant Panther's Race - Round 3"