Perpetual Refuge

Perpetual Refuge

Out of the box

For false assurances of bliss.

Return to the box

Aged infinite secure haven.

© W. Heron, 2014

The Worst Jobs in History - A Review

" O' how full of briers is this working-day world."
William Shakespeare

Horrible Histories - Victorian Work Song

The Worst Jobs in History is a brilliant educative and extremely funny documentary series which takes a look at, as the title indicates, the worst jobs in history. Primarily the jobs not done by history’s top one percent! Two series and a special,  hosted by Tony Robinson who played Baldrick in the “Blackadder” series, were produced in Britain.

The first series, released in 2004, took viewers from the Roman and Anglo-Saxon Briton through to the Victorian age. Tony took on the task of gearing up in the attire of the time, whether male or female, to perform some downright horrible, dangerous, and messy jobs. Tony not only educated viewers, he provided heaps of humour. Some of the jobs in these periods included the chimney sweep, the executioner, the leech collector, the plague burier, the rat-catcher, the leather tanner, and, believe it or not, the sin-eater.

Illicit Flights

Illicit Flights

Shadows lay alike and birds in mirrored flight

Indicate the trysts and meets of illicit delight.

The encounters traversed to a different shore

Occurrences oft repeated come to the fore.

Images reflect that they are in true facsimile

Revealing that truth to be seen so explicitly.

With aspirations aimed for the coming day

Of separate flights to a town on southern bay.

There no oranges or apple blossoms do bloom

Or waves gathering on that new shore to boom.

To the place where there blows no notable wind

Where repeated intrigue pass without rescind. 

Hidden in the calm visage of congenial notability

Are these acts of an individual’s secret duplicity.

© W. Heron, 2014

Carousel

Carousel 

Circle in coloured motion. 

Poetry in worded motion.

Dreams in revolutions.

Revolutions in wheels.

Motion in revolutions.

© W. Heron, 2008

Spirit's Demise

Spirit’s Demise 

He set to beguile her spirit with worthless words of radiant soft assurance,

Hiding his inconstant mutable heart so well couched in words of charm,

Slicing out her spirit’s soul assuredly as if he had used a jagged knife,

With the facile adulteress in tow he achieves her broken soul’s destruction,

Thrusting her into ceaseless interminable pain for her spirit's death is done.

He and the paramour go on lustfully on in triumph of the spirit’s death, 

Rejoicing in intermittent  infidelities bound deep up in travelled secrets,

The promise for that sad spirit will forever cease life’s quiet contemplation,

The circuitous route to one soul’s destruction exceedingly well done,

They will carry on in lust cuckolding the incognisant steadfast bridegroom.

© W. Heron, 2014

Heart Soul’s Death

Heart Soul’s Death

I walk the path of immeasurable  soul's suffering,

I do not go to the places once loved and shared,

When I do, my love's wraith may in memory be waiting,

Remembering  the words of failed cautioned warnings,

This heart’s soul  knows only constant unceaseless pain.

I had only this vulnerable heart which now suffers

Given in offered on the promises of love’s joy,

Trusting as ever in seeking an honest emotion’s promise,

I gave my heart's soul into seemingly trusting hands,

To be outbid by the offer of openly superficial reward.

Left to wonder whether the gift of overwhelming love,

Can ever hold itself against the offers of lustful gain,

I wander lost while this tender heart's spirit

Ever remains with the heart soul of the one it loves,

Knowing that joy no longer is part of this own soul.

I will no more the places trod where we once went,

These have been diminished and hidden by a deceitful  one,

This heart understands that plan with the  duplicitous she,

From scribbling visions of her prominent puritan guise,

I recollect the time when love was a tangible glory.

Seeking for solace and release while sitting and writing,

Knowing the many faces of the specious focal one,

Feeling sad for the failed assurances of the loved one,

The heart soul dying with its spirits’ final obliteration

Remains with love's wraith who is overwhelmingly  loved.

© W. Heron, 2014  

Questions

Questions

Do Sirens seek to beguile with song?

Do Orcs use jagged weapons?

Goblins, are they really treacherous?

Is every Demon really a malcontent?

Do Pixies slip and slide with delight?

Are legendary Dragons ever lively?

Do Fae always dance in circuitous motion?

Whimsical Witches, do they wear breeches?

Do Trolls really seek to triumph over good?

Elves, do they just rejoice at the drum circle?

© W. Heron, 2008

Angel of Waffles

Angel  of Waffles

Winged Heron tosses a waffle in here.

Winged Heron tosses a waffle in there.

Winged Heron tosses a waffle up in the air.

Winged Heron watches a waffle adhere to a chair.

Winged Heron watches a waffle land on the stair.

Winged Heron watches a waffle stick to Hey Voom's hair.

Winged Heron thinks OOPS and wanders off without a care.

Winged Heron is back with sticky waffle poetry to share.

Winged Heron will do this with daring and more than a touch flair.

WInged Heron for a month or two was a sight, seen so rare.

Winged Heron is now back, all pretty and just as always fair.

Winged Heron has even ensured that she has paid her fare.

Winged Heron has now returned to the Death by Waffle lair.

Winged Heron after being absent is back and the Wafflers stare.

Winged Heron looks at them as if to say, "Comment if you dare!"

Winged Heron divides numerous large Waffles with a tear.

Winged Heron hands each jolly Waffler a pair.

Winged Heron eats a waffle while her Daddy prefers a pear.

Winged Heron listened to the farmer and kept the waffles from the mare.

Winged Heron likes her waffles sticky with syrup and never bare.

"Winged Heron's poem is just too much for any insane Waffler," they declare.

SO there!!

© W. Heron, 2009

Why is Winged Heron (Win) the "Angel of Waffles" you may ask? Well let me tell you of a tale of a bizarre little 3D world called "Second Life" that my sister got me involved in while she was pregnant with my nephew. Second Life or SL as it is fondly known, to distinguish from RL, which is Real Life, is a virtual world where you create an avatar or AV. This Avatar can be anything you want it to be and can have any personality or lifestyle you want. Citizens of SL come in all shapes and forms being as dark or as light as they choose. They can roleplay (RP), be themselves or be a little more than themselves if they want. 

Win is an angel, who sometimes dons her wings and halo but mostly roams around incognito. She has been a angel in a number of realms, places or groups in SL. One of Win's groups is called "Death By Waffle" which is a chat group for a bunch of nutty fun loving individuals who have a hang up about waffles and waffling on. Each of the senior or founding members was given a special role in the group, just for the fun  of it. Win, by virtue of her SL persona, naturally earned the title of "Angel of Waffles".

SO there you have it, how this mediocre poet's AV became the Angels of Waffes. Being in this group also resulted in 12 very short poems on various members of the group during a short period in 2008/2009. These were written in the tradition of Edward Lear. These belong to the lighter side of my mediocre efforts into the realm of poetry. I will post these at another time. 

I do produce other types of poems, which are often echoes of life experience, the rare dreams I have, my mood or about people I know. Some are just as light as this poem, while others can tend to be darker or sadder. Sometimes I even let the halo slip! If you choose to visit here don't be surprised that on occasions you may find some poems that are not as joyfully insane as this one. 

In the near future, I will be grouping the poetry together, as this Blog evolves into something a little more complex. This is long overdue and needs to be done in order to accommodate the eclectic nature it has developed since it was established in 2009. So feel free to leave comments or not, as long as they are constructive. As a middling poet, I strive to improve my personal style but enjoy exploring all forms, whether they rhyme or not.