I’m going to Paint my Best Picture Ever

As soon as I wake before my coffee
I’ll grab that canvas brush and oils
To paint a fantastic sky,
With a couple of crows squawking in the blue
Then a mountain with snow on it top
An’ the sun shining on it
With a little road at the bottom,
Now for a bus stop with a little boy waiting
With his dog on a lead, then a little puddle
For boys love to jump in em’.
Just finished lots of black and white cows
Feeding in this huge green paddock,
With horses frolicking fresh from the stables
Running and kicking chasing, hope I get it right
Better paint a fence near the road an’ add a few sheep.
Now let me see ah....Trees lot of trees green as green
To the left and to the right with birds flying all around,
Oh in the distance near the foot of the mountain
I’ll paint the school bus coming down the road
That boy has been waiting for ages.

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Love Is 2

Nann ‘n’ Pop

Love is
Fighting against the withering tick of time.
Knowing he is not in his prime
Looking down with a perplexed frown,
He can do without sex only clown
But can’t do without his glasses,
He needs them to find his lassie.
Love Is
Trying to kindle a sparkle calling her lovey dove,
Trying a sixty-niner an’ falling out of bed
An’ breaking a leg, now that’s true love.
Every morning a kiss ever since wed
She smiles with no teeth, there still in a tin,
He smiles back with porridge on his bristly chin.
Love is
Looking into the enchanting mirror deep,
To hold that grandeur pose and keep
Just for him if he can stay awake

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Home, I Stand Alone

I stand alone I am yours
My beauty held in awe the anchor,
The place to get back to, my pad, home
A Reflection of self images covers my walls,
The colours are me, my comfort my likes.
My door closes behind me
Security seeps into your mind,
Keeping out would be strangers
Beggars and would be sales ladies,
It will only open by invitation.
A kettle whistles singing its invitation
Cleverly standing next to the tea caddy,
I obey with no restraint addicted
To the command... armchair tea tasting,
Carries air from my mouth...aaaaaahh,
A political doorknockers knock receives deaf ears,
More air leaves my mouth...aaaaaahh.
My door opens two children run in
Followed by a big man smiling
He smells the tea; he will get his just desserts

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Oh Monday Morning

Old moon drops from sight,
Light travels thru an echo to
Calmly awaits its bounce,
Sea obeys and leaves the sand
Linnet sings, a new day has begun.

The central station of the heart
Slows the motion trains,
Corpuscle freight awaits the start
Between the pulsating refrain.

To blackness void of starlight tone
The body clock ticks a wake up call seems,
Conscious sleeps in twilight zones
Suspended in the lane of dreams.

Blink of an eye forget and wake
Evolving today’s way to feel,
Playing the yo-yo game of happy and sad
Masking happy for the social deal.

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poem by Ken e Hall
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33 Miners......the Happy Fairy Tale End

Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy and Bashful,
Seven miners all so so sad adversity has held its grip,

Nasty Queens poison apple whose life of Snow White tries to null,
But look the Prince is here to kiss, and in the bud this deed to nip.

The minors so so happy, hugging and smiling a fairy tale end,
Yes a fairy tale indeed a message to the world to send, but

Look! A real life story has unfolded before our very eyes,
Deep underground thirty three Chilean miners entombed below,
The world takes notice, mankind prays no one dies.
Two long months pass then God s help he doth sow,

With comrade’s ingenuity of man a capsule is born,
Down a sunken shaft it sinks to the men it will save,
The Lord delivers them to family from whom they’ve been torn,
One by one they step out so strong and so so bloody brave,

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Natures Call Save The Forest Of The Night

Dimmed to infiltrate the forest of the night
The single lamp post of the moon,
Shines her recycled yesterday’s sunshine,
The leaves move in harmony rustling the tune
With the floor moving with life with extreme evening sight,
The staccato’s beat sets the rhythm.
Nothing escapes the damp drapes of the silent breeze,
All creatures are hungry it’s time to forage,
Nature’s rule every living thing knows eat or be eaten.
The snake consumes the stolen egg,
Bird eats the worm
Spider mummifies the fly,
The leopard dines on the weak.
The trees feel immune until
Elephant hunger‘s early morning grasp strips the tree
The flesh eating cat slumbers
Dreaming of his lions share,
The bird with a broken wing wears a coat of ants,
Life goes on as dawn approaches as
The dung beetle is happy for his larvae’s lunch,

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Every Woman Wants To Dance

Every woman wants to dance
Every woman wants the chance.

Behind closed doors
All the fiery sexy sways,
Even thru her kitchen days,
She’ll use her pegs as castanets
As soggy towels her hands do wets.
Over fence, neighbours know they have seen,
The local show of the dancing queen,
Radio’s Rolling Stones belt out the action to
‘I can’t get no satisfaction’,
A million hips gyrate on the table tops
As they swing and hug the upturned mops.

Every woman wants to dance
Every woman wants the chance.

In the shops in the office the toes do tap,

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poem by Ken e Hall
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The Bespoke Suit

That bespoke suit it looked grand so beaut
It adorned this guy drinking alone at the bar,
Would he sell it, that smashing suit
Indeed if only, I'd feel like a rising star,

Such a fine cut of pure merino wool
With a blue hanky peeping from his top pocket.
I turned my head an' he was gone leaving my mind to mull,
I ran to the door his car took off like a rocket,

Looking at my poor excuse of a suit so so raggy,
A week fly's by bespoke in my dreams never ending,
Love will never come with my trousers so baggy.
I see a girl stroking that bespoke suit...dreams keep sending,

Well blow me down with a feather there he stands again at the bar,
'Hello there my names John I think your suit is so bespoke,
Would you sell it to me to shine my star, '
'Gimme' double what I paid then it's yours no joke'

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poem by Ken e Hall
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The Flamingo Parade

A million collect for this pink extravaganza
I have preened my virgin self
Again and again, I am in my prime
I am ready for the mating bonanza
Of the pink parade.
One thousand young heads raise high
The more I raise my head
The more pinkier I become,
The more suitors it will drum
Without the moon or roses.
The eyes must flash its signal of love
In this multitude of sameness,
Birds of a feather
We are the same but not the same,
Our call and aroma are our own.

This male stops me dead
Entwines his neck, mmmmmm
Then gives a peck, mmmmmm I’m struck
He smells so masculine, I flutter my eyes

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poem by Ken e Hall
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Winter's Snowstorm

Nature hires her white winter coats
To still trees starkly dressed
Motion to the scene as wildlife notes.
Snowflakes settle on a Robins head blessed.

He pouts his red chest, not to blush
Rabbit stops wiggles his nose whisking snow,
Fuelled by the icy breeze’s push,
A flash from his eye’s and off he goe’s,

Synchronous vibrations of Mother Nature gropes
unleashing the resonant howls as the driving winds,
Fuel a snowstorm down the mountain slopes,
‘Neath overhang rocks the wolf packs huddle begins.

Unseen the movement of time holds its breath
For bears the whole winter in slumber,
Oblivious to an icy freezing death
Kept alive by their hibernating Jumper,

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poem by Ken e Hall
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