Tinker Posted May 28, 2017 Share Posted May 28, 2017 dded Barry, David, Marti, Geoff, Gatekeeper Forum Limericks A guy from Rhode Island is Tony it’s his work that rings true, never phony he steps up to the plate to write is his fate And his images sing life's testimony It's a Badger, the bard in clear color his work gives a smile or a cry, it’s a muller master of form all you ladies I warn he is charming, disarming, a luller Now there's Barry who writes from the UK it's a walk through his dreams with in one day an Eclipse of all others writes never of Mothers with a photo of Keats on display. Then Dave Parsley is known for his art He's a seer with a plan from the start he writes sonnets of love and long poems from above his devotion emits from his heart It is Benjamin paints with the word he is Geoff to the members who've heard It's his talent we cheer He is good never fear and no verses will ever be slurred Ah my man of the world is our Marti he employs form like a pro, he's a smarty Now from Texas he hails and his heart never fails to deliver a poem to inform or to party. There’s a doctor or con-man among us. his poems are thoughtful and righteous so is this a scam at least it’s not spam just enjoy and you’ll see, he’s ominous. Then there's Douglas a chap from Cape Town like a cutter of diamonds on countdown., his poems are sharp like the strings of a harp his words sing with the zing, he's renown. A Gatekeeper haikus with skill I would love to read more at will with words short and sweet is the way that we meet Catch the train to a place on the hill A gent from the south is our Rhyme Guy he is gracious and wise in his bow-tie he is willing to learn any technical term and observes from his heart with a kind-eye In Manila there is Joel writing verse, with words fluid and true, never terse. In a world set apart on an island of art he sends poems into space for the universe. Adding me to this list where I Tinker it is fun to create I'm a thinker it's my passion to learn for the art I will burn with my heart and my brain and my winker. And our English contingent Frank E with poetic, historic decree is quick to write tomes with Grimm’s little gnomes and a boon to this board, all agree. Frank is lost to us now. He will always be missed. In Japan there's an Irish Dedalus with his lilt he fluidly captures us historical rants and occasionally chants It's Brendan who's among the best of us It's Yarnspinner's trucker that got me a sad tale in a musical emotional spree he emotes from the soul it is tears he will dole In the snow we will go with a memory. From Buhtan there's a poet who's Golden it's the Tanka unique emboldens imagery at it's best her poems bequest an exotic display we're beholden. The Marshall in town we call Linda she patrols with her heart in the wind-a she’s quick on the draw to give a hurrah and her poetry ’s pure disciplined-a Now it’s Nick who will hate to be rhymed but it's better than he being slimed a master at lyric I’d say hemispheric and his comments are always well timed It’s Barooba you’ll find at the pub he performs while he’s eating his grub his language is strong even said to be wrong so we keep him in line with a club. There is Blog-jamb who’s mastered the sonnet writes of presidents, love and her bonnet his tomes he could sell like his sweet Villanelle with the praise that is lavished upon it. It is Lake that can calm us with Zen as serenity flows from her pen she will rest for a while ’neath the tree with the smile then she’ll write us a haiku again. Now it’s Jonathan’s tats that intrigue me do they match the great art of his poetry? When the seagulls fly west are they inked on his chest? Is he Carlo or Seagull, who is he? Now summayyah is young and alert a heart we don’t want to have hurt should her young man aspire her heart to acquire he must first wine and dine with dessert. Aleksandra was known to like cake it was sweets that would give her an ache so her boyfriend conspired a grill he acquired at their café she now orders steak. In our group is a lady named nia she writes poetry, sweet panacea the folks are beguiled but don’t get her riled to test her is one bad idea Anastasia’s a poet of merit we do find just beyond the pooled light unconfined her words come alive like a buzzing beehive from her verse, pollinating your mind At four in the morning you’ll find Larsen but don’t fret, he’s not planning an arson Victor simply can’t sleep and he just won’t count sheep he writes verse that’s approved by a parson. Victor has also passed from us. We miss you Victor. So, what do I do with til’ Sover? I wish that he hailed from Dover. he drove a blue truck in the rain and the muck and he fished from a meadow of clover. It is Wistful who lives in the barn she can spin a delightful turned yarn it’s her ship coming in if wrecked, its a sin then she’d swim to shore wet, no, oh darn! The Portuguese offer us J T Picasso can’t rival his creativity an artist so fair paints with words bare and the fire he sings us, proclivity. The Monster’s a young one with edge but to tame his panache he does pledge he’s on the right track and we all have his back a fence when he steps on the ledge. Manoel, a young friend from Brazil will make film and write ads for a meal he divides him from Him on a creative whim his talent and charm seals the deal. Now aureryr has me stumped from this series I almost bumped rolls out in barrels ignoring the perils but I hate to see anyone dumped. A man on a mission is Grasshopper now, I know he could tell us a whopper but he simply tells tales a flight he unveils I listen as if I an eavesdropper Our Canadian Miss Ivy, I think is a shy one yet she shares poems with us in the bright sun her images all brand new she prays twice, you can too the inkblots congeal and her poem is done. The Canuck we adore we call Fader he’s the opposite of the dread Darth Vader with his brother he fishes and he grants us 3 wishes his tomes are eclectic, a poetic crusader About Anna who lives in between twixt what and what does she mean? images seen through a lens scribed with her colorful pens she displays observations, she’s keen. There’s spauldhr the poet from France. with tomes choreographing a dance. to want is to haunt and maybe to flaunt the music of words is not by chance A Frenchman who goes by busard a funny dodo who landed here hard now sits on a bench sings of love in French and is welcome to play in our yard. (the funny dodo is busard’s expression not mine) Quote ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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