Oh Garlic! - Kathy Figueroa

Oh Garlic, of the great Allium Tribe
Bulbous root, so vibrant and exciting
You cast a magic spell that works so well
To make food delicious and inviting

Beneath that papery exterior
Is a flavourful essence, bold and true
Other seasonings seem inferior
Compared to the razzamatazz of you

Elevating plain old soup to glory!
To bread, adding a delectable glow!
Of all veggies to be acquainted with
It’s versatile you I most want to know!

You add pizzazz to all types of salads -
Potato, cruciferous, and green tossed -
With toothsomeness worthy of great ballads
You rescue appetites from being lost

You’re also useful medicinally
To keep cold and flu viruses at bay
And when garlic oil is mixed with water
It makes an effective mosquito spray

An incredible versatility
Extends beyond what could be expected:
Your antibacterial properties
Were used to keep war wounds disinfected!

Sometimes, Garlic, you receive a bad rap
“You’re much too odiferous,” some folks claim
Those who are worried about dragon breath
Should know it’s something that parsley can tame

If the thought of vampires gives folks a fright
Some legends claim garlic is protective
It’s said that a clove worn around the neck
Is a repellent that’s most effective

I’ve extolled these fine characteristics
In verses of joyous veneration
And thank you, Garlic, for your qualities
Worthy of this public adulation!

Kathy Figueroa

Oh Garlic! was published on August 10, 2017, in The Bancroft Times newspaper.

If I Could - Lyndon Queripel

If I could sing I’d be a singer
If I could play guitar I’d be a star
If I could think I’d be a danger
If I could go I’d go too far

If I could act I’d be an actor
If I could be myself I’d play the part
If I could forget the script of debt
If I could remember I’d know by heart

If I could write I’d page a poem
If I could understand every word
If I could face the fact not fiction
If I could use a pen I’d lose my sword.

Lyndon Queripel

The Scramble Of Time - Tony Gardner

Scrambling brambles up the side
Of walls once weatherproof and warm
So much was lived and loved inside
Those stones where I'm still strangely drawn
So many lives were tossed around
In this old home of war and peace
And happy hours richly blessed
With never dream that all might cease

A skeleton is all that's left
Of warmth and safety, strength and dreams
Hopes and memories fade so fast
For nothing in this life will last
Brambles scramble up the wall
The Ivy strangles everything
Our little lives are shooting stars
For Mother Nature always wins

Tony Gardner

Deity Doll - Lester Queripel

Gods and Goddesses.
Forever immortal.
The perfect angel.
Statue memorial.
Purity and perfection.
Collective resurrection.
Hail Mary.
Hailstone.
Open to the elements.
Standing alone.
Seemingly untouchable.
Fragile and vulnerable.
Handle with care the Deity Doll.
If you want to save your soul.

Before your eyes.
Hypnotise.
Idolise.
Dramatise.
Magnetise.
Baptise and memorise.
Shine the light.
Rejoice and delight.
Fight the good fight.
Don't lose sight.
Or get blinded by the light.
From the cradle to the grave.
In castle and cave.
With the cross and the nail.
In search of the Holy Grail.

Lester Queripel

Bunker Hill - Stephen A. Roberts

They stop to watch
their watches stopped, and
time stands still,
on Bunker Hill.

The cold grey sea
begins to fill, the
hollows around
old Bunker Hill.

The wall has gone
they spent a mill, and
nothing can stop
the overspill.

They can only watch,
and wait until, the
tide laps up
to Bunker Hill.

Stephen A. Roberts

Solitude? I could get used to this - Tony Bradley

Hey, this isn't so bad, after all
Hasta la vista, babe, stay on yer bike
no more TV soaps , I'VE got the remote
I can flip channels as much as I like.

Now I brazenly swagger to the fridge
savage a sausage, or chomp at the cheese
maybe, instead of cooking, have a jam sandwich
I can eat EXACTLY what I please.

I can cash in the Co-op divi, or Christmas club
and completely waste the spoils
I can bath every day, with no-one to say
"You're going to lose all your essential oils . . ."

Tony Bradley

Your Pedestal - Ian Duquemin

I sat on your pedestal waiting
Keeping it safe while you're gone
So high was its glory, my skin of milk white
Was scorched by the heat of the sun
Nobody noticed me waiting
They walked by without any care
Yet they'd have all stopped if I wasn't up here
And you were the one sitting there
I never intended to trade you
I thought I was being a friend
But where are you now when I need your return
So I am then free to descend
The seasons have changed since you left me
The tides turned to salt from my tears
And yet I remain here just waiting
Your promise of days became years

Ian Duquemin

Restaurant Review - Egon Rongway

I don’t want grub served on a slate,
a bucket or a block of wood.
This sort of nonsense tends to grate.
It’s simply gimmickry with food.

Just serve the meal with less display
and please, oh please don’t cry Good choice!
or, with a flourish, bow and say
Enjoy it! in a stupid voice.

Don’t plunge in while I chat with friends,
just wait, as proper waiters do.
Inept intrusiveness offends:
no need to stick to us like glue.

You’ve overcharged us for the wine:
that’s greedy, it impairs the taste.
The main course, when it came, was fine,
the pud was served with too much haste

so you could push us out the door
to rush some other punters through
production-line style, more and more,
a hungry, never-ending queue.

I’ll go on Trip Advisor to
review your fancy restaurant
that I don’t fancy much, it’s true,
and come back, no, I surely shan’t.

Egon Rongway

The Working Week - Diane Scantlebury

Moany Monday

Monday’s for misery
Monday’s for groaners,
Whiners and complainers
Monday’s for moaners,

The grumpy and the grisly ones
Are never the stay at homers,
They love to spread unhappiness
For Monday’s for moaners,

The angry ones, the unreasonable ones
Always shouting down the phoners,
They save it up all weekend
Till moan day,
‘Cause Monday’s for moaners!

Terrific Tuesday

Tuesday’s a better day
Hardly ever manic,
A time to reflect day
When no one’s in a panic,

Tuesday’s a calm day
A perfect day for meetings,
Everyone seems so relaxed
With more time for greetings,

Why Tuesday’s such a nice day
Isn’t down to things specific,
A relief from moany Monday
Tuesdays are terrific!

Strange Wednesday

What’s the point of Wednesday?
It’s neither here nor there,
A middle of the week day
When no one seems to care,

Wednesday’s such a strange day
Sometimes it’s full of woe,
A shelter from the rain day
When there’s nowhere else to go,

Wednesdays can be busy
Most times they’ll start off quiet,
Just occasionally someone kicks off,
But it’s not a day to riot!

Crazy Thursday

Thursday’s a crazy, busy day,
Thursday’s always manic,
Waiting room noisy, full to bursting,
The Staff are in a panic,

Angry parents with tempers frayed,
Kids bored, around in circles run,
Such an unforgiving day,
Crazy Thursdays aren’t much fun!

TGIF

Hurrah, hurrah for Friday
A day that should be fun,
Friday’s the day to thank the Lord,
‘Cause the working week is done!

Diane Scantlebury