To treat thus a Maiden’s a shame and disgrace;
‘Twas vile to desert her – unfeeling and base;
Yet, what but such conduct could any one hope;
(Not forgiven, I’m sure, would it be by the Pope)
From one, who by evidence clear it is shown,
Was really possessed of THE HEART OF A STONE.
Written in Court at Abingdon Assizes (Abingdon County Hall Sessions Hall) circa 1823, during the trial of a breach of promise of marriage.
Thursday 8 October 2015 is National Poetry Day. The day is a chance to break with the tyranny of prose by sharing poetry with the hashtag #nationalpoetryday.
Well, today I’m in Rome
and far from my home,
but I’m sure to return
you’ll be happy to learn.
This blog means so much
as it keeps me in touch
with opinions and views
of my town’s local news.
To each and to all –
but mostly Backstreeter –
this ode comes from Paul
as an opening greeter.
When I left Oxfordshire
I knew I’d require
To stay in touch
Nothing so much
as a blog that’s online
So if I should pine
For a pint at the Kings head
I could read this instead.
A poetic blogger, backstreeter
Experimented with both rhyme and meter
And although his verse
Could have be worse
His blog was the clear world-beater
She stood on the bridge at midnight
Her belly all a quiver
She gave a cough
Her leg fell off
And floated down the river ‘
The problem was our poor guild hall
Not fit for a theatre or even a balll
Let’s call in consultants
There’s plenty at hand
Then we can waste 100 grand.
Half a cinema would certainly fail
Hold up ! How about a car boot sale?
The doors have closed, the lights not on
Where Has that wonderful tapestry gone?
Now that 60’s building of Portland stone
Stands empty and cold.
And a tad forlorn
Even The mayors Christmas party
Will need a new home.
The Guildhall changed ownership
Not so long ago
The district wanted rid of it
The town could make a go
A Cinema or Cinemas
Was the first rallying call
They brought in some consultants
to transform the old Guildhall
The costs began to spiral
And grants did not come in
A new council were elected
old schemes went in bin
Sober heads decided
to make a simpler plan
and not risk on a venture
that could go down the pan…..
Oh no!
Ay up everyone
Info overload
They’re starting to build at
65 Oxford road,
A digger, a dumper,
A site hut too
They’ve even installed
A blue port-a-loo
The planners are there
All scratching their heads
Where’s the trees, the shrubs
And the established beds?
Ought to finish the gaol
Before they build there
And What will they build
Does anyone care?
A huge block of flats
Na, that wouldn’t look right
A hotel? a garage?
It’s a pretty big site
I know, I’ve got it,
A new guild hall
A gift from the builder
In return for the gaol!
No cinema and theatre in our town of Abingdon
Sadly the opportunity has now been and gone
The plans were realistic and not that controversial
The newly elected council are simply not commercial
They say that borrorwing money represents cash lost
Whilst ignoring the net impact on the running cost
New plans will add no revenue unfortunately I fear
And we will keep on paying one fifty grand a year
A million pounds will achieve a charming ‘village hall’
Ideal for masonic meetings and a lovely mayor’s ball
But for our younger people there’s nothing they will want
So well done town council – a shiny white elephant
(Sorry about tenuous last rhyme)
Tenuous, Ian? It’s a flaming disgrace;
stand at the back and cover your face!
I’ve just been across to Rome’s Colosseum –
it’s a little bit bigger than our town museum.
Meanwhile at St Paul’s that’s “outside the walls”
I’ve got a small room in the abbey’s grand halls.
The Tiber’s all right; my nostalgia stems
from fact that right now I can’t walk by the Thames.
====
I’ve had just enough
of this rhyming stuff!
Good evening all
from your friend Paul.
So long as it’s ideal for masons’ meetings then we can say “Job done”
it would not do to encourage the riff-raff into town for too much fun.
And now I am near
to Castelgandolfo,
and whatever you hear
I’m not playing golf. No
that wouldn’t be right
and might give Pope Francis
a terrible fright
or draw killing glances
from Swiss Army guards
who demand more respect
or they’ll show you your cards.
Shall I continue? I’d better relent,
or else I’ll find I’m forced to repent.
====
Why am I doing this?
I really can’t tell.
If it goes on my longer
I’ll end up in…
… HULL.
sorry, “much” longer!
Italy is obviously eroding any sense I might have earlier laid claim to. Note: this is not a poem.
Ah ppjs-
you’re on holiday I guess
In the papel city?
The pantheon is so pretty
No doubt to see the pope?
The guy that gives us hope
I’ve seen him on a Sunday morning
Been witness to his warnings
His teaching and preaching
Are a joy to behold
About a never ending story
Or so we are told
Are you there to meet him?
Or escape from this cold
Or chasing a whim
The De Vinci code?
Quest the Knights Templar
Galahad, Tristram and kin
The bold table who fought Saladin
And what of the fable
This story, nay tale
Is there really such
As the Holy Grail?
I suppose it comes down to faith within
As to whether you fear the devil and sin
It matters not to everyone else
As long as you can be true to yourself !
OK, I’m sorry I’m late,
I guess I’ve taken the bait
…perhaps it was fate
An itch to satiate?
But I just couldn’t wait
And after a spate
Of rhymes first rate
I’d rather placate
Instead of berate
An unusual trait
But I’ll just say it straight…
Wait
Wait
The flowers look great!
Oh dear I feel inadequate
Because a poem I have not writ
And for a topic I despair
Ah – here’s a plug for the Craft Fair
Abbey Buildings Thurs- Sat this week and next.
St Benedict’s footsteps I have come here to trace,
and Monte Cassino will be a sure place,
but first in the catacombs and Lateran John
I begin with some friends my pilgrimage on.
Our leader has given us each a timetable
with Italian names that I am not able
to find rhyming words for in my native tongue
so here’s where the last of my song will be sung.
On lake Alban’s quiet hillside at old Palazzola
I sit with ristretto – not for me rum and cola –
but under the sun and a deep azure sky
the news on this blog will gladden my eye.
====
No, no – enough, I really must stop
or you, my good friends, will throw a great strop.
Addio,a prossimo tempo, and ciao;
it really must be farewell for now.