# 23

I spotted a prompt at We Write Poems, thanks to a link in Viv In France's blog, and as they were asking for something silly - well - 'nuff said...

 A Kind Of Iffy Poem

If I were silver, and so was my tree,
I'd be a bell bird - also silver you see...
My sonorous notes would daintily ring
as tumbling carillons I'd choose to sing
to welcome each new day and say 'Hello, Sun'
then I'd croon him a lullaby when day was done.

With a ting and a ling, or a ding and a dong
my bell chords would echo and sound all day long,
'til the people who lived in the house on the hill
would shout out, quite rudely 'Please shut your bill!
From inside, our ears are now ringing as well -
can't you be quiet and give us a spell
of silence, all golden? We humbly request
that you tuck your head under your wing for a rest.'

And now what do I find, but an IGWRT's prompt for a poem to celebrate The Bard! So I've done an additional write this afternoon, just for him - and them! Sorry, Will!

Forsooth!

In memory of Shakespeare, here are lines

the like of which his quill pen never wrote.

For now, a fearsome black and plastic board

provides a bard with characters to press

with tender fingertips, no more nor less.

And so come words intended to impress

a modern audience -  a  Blogland crowd,

reliant on technology, and such things

as monitors, plus much beyond the ken

of simple womenfolk , as many men may

state in chauvinistic mode! However,

be that as it may, this tribute in the month

when William breathed his first or last

poetic gasp, I humbly  lay before you.

I implore you to look kindly on my work –

written while more serious employment

I do shirk, forsooth. Impetuous youth!

I jest, of course, for me, a second childhood

is closer to the part of life I live today!