Author: Toastingfork

Not afraid to rhyme.

Wayfinder

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Sanctuary by Rodney Matthews

Wayfinder

I know where we’re going, trust me,
All the signs are showing thusly –
Follow me, I have the knowing
Of the way like nobody.
For I know where the cows are lowing,
I know where the crows are crowing,
I know where no debts are owing,
And the air is free.

Where the stream is flowing fleetly,
Where the wind is blowing sweetly,
And the strings are softly bowing –
That is where we need to be.
So nevermind how much it’s snowing,
Soon we shall be warm and glowing –
For, despite our to-and-fro-ing,
Still our stars agree.

Though it seems we’re slowing quickly,
And our path is growing prickly,
Still we have to keep on rowing,
Or we’ll wash back out to sea.
So let’s keep on this line we’re toeing
Let’s not think of overthrowing –
Soon we’ll reap the steps we’re sowing,
Home in time for tea.

The Elephants of War

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War Elephant Head by Ruslan Bikmurzin

The Elephants of War

The jumbos joined the battlefield,
To put the steeds to fright.
For what use were mere horses
In the face of so much might ?
But the other side were not done yet,
This wouldn’t be a rout –
They launched their secret weapon
As they rode their mammoths out.

So the jumbos and the mammoths
Clashed upon the battlefield –
They flared their ears and trumpeted,
And neither side would yield.
They reared-up on their hind legs high,
They broadsided and barged,
And they shook the ground beneath them
As their ten-ton leaders charged.

But what with all their bellowing
To war and kingdom-come,
It soon become apparent
That these hunks were not so dumb –
They targetted the riders,
Pulled them off with probing trunks,
And skewered them upon their tusks,
And flayed them into chunks.

They stamped upon the humans,
And they kicked them from their path,
Till they were the last ones standing
In the bloody aftermath.
And they touched their heads together in a truce,
And sallied forth –
With the jumbos on to Africa,
And mammoths heading North.

Obviously AI, but it serves its purpose…

Nonsense Avenue

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Old London Bridge & Nonsuch House by Peter Jackson

Nonsense Avenue

Why can’t our road names
Be honest and neat,
As regular codenames
To Gardens and Street ?
A road name is two-fold,
That ought to be checked
To see me and you told
Just what to expect-
A Lane should be narrow,
A Way should be broad.
Alas, this clear arrow
Is often ignored –
Our naming mis-uses
And gives itself airs,
With Prospects and Muses
And circular Squares.

Picture Perfect

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Capture Everything by Mads Peitersen

Picture Perfect

Once, a photo was all the proof we needed –
Unfakeably real.
From journalists to private eyes,
They’re cutting-through a thousand lies.
Snap it, print it, we’ll believe it,
Wasn’t that the deal ?
But Stalin should have taught us right
To never trust in black and white.

A photo’s a tangled weaving –
Of light, and of how we feel –
They’ve always been a compromise
Between our out and inner eyes.
So now, with AI’s bold deceiving,
Why make such a meal ?
As if King Kong and Georges Méliès
Had not exposed the shades of grey.

Gallybaggers

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Scarecrow by Carus

Gallybaggers

How do scarecrows scare crows ?
Who knows ?
They seem such feeble foes.
Do they even work, do you suppose ?
With their hessian nose and wooden toes,
These crucified guards in hand-me-down clothes
Must scare the birds that thieve he rows.
But corbs are smart, and their learning shows
As they crop the crops while their wardens doze…

The Blue Mosque

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Arabic-Style Sci-Fi Building by Subin Rajendran

The Blue Mosque

Clad in creamy marble,
With a hint of steely blue,
Inside, plenty of reddish ochre,
And glints of gilding too.
There are some cobalt tiles,
But these are swamped by the full display,
And the low-slung chandeliers and their wires
Just get in the gen’ral way.
Big and grand, and in no-way monochrome,
And it’s not her fault what others call her dome.

Crowded, of course, but this is expected,
Scrumming to doff our shoes –
You’d think a series of ante-rooms for this
Would help the queues.
Within, some turquoise headscarves
Give a nod to her azure fame –
But in the end, she makes no bid
To accept her heavenly name.
It goes to show that marketing ain’t new…
So all-in-all: not small, not bad, not blue.

Flying Mice

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Wyvern Musculature by Kate Pfeilschiefter

Flying Mice

The city is full of urban sparrows,
A hundred to each tree –
Flocking under the tourists’ feet
And dicing cars along the street.
They steal the food from off the barrows,
And ride the trams for free,
Nesting anywhere they can grab
In any old wall or concrete slab.
Finding their hedgerows far too narrow,
They seek opportunity –
When it’s just too dry for rainy pigeons,
Up-pop sparrows with ambitions.

House Sparrow by Natalia Rojas

Rhinos In Name Only

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Rhino in the Mud by Jono Dry

Rhinos In Name Only

Somewhere, in a parallel taiga,
There they are – they never died.
The woolly rhinos guard the Eiger,
Symbols of the Russian pride.
Standing ground against the polar bear,
And hauling Santa’s sleigh,
And touring with the country fair –
In brown and never grey –

But not this Earth, and not this tundra –
So it goes, and so they went –
The climate changed and they went under,
Leaving bones from Greece to Kent.
Their naked cousins still exist, I guess,
Though less divine –
We won’t find them near Inverness
Or swimming in the Rhine.

Orcish Woolly Rhino Riders by Alpine Creations

Uncharted

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Detail from Islandia by Abrahim Ortelius

Uncharted

The maps of old were full of monsters –
Terra incognita !
Back when the darkest continents
Were mysteries of consequence.
Wherever our landlocked pencil wanders
Faster than a cheetah,
Then here be dragons, rest assured,
And natives with the heads of birds.

The maps of old were full of empty,
Till we filled them in.
We went and saw, and came back sad,
That there were no beasts to be had.
We’d spare imagination plenty,
But behemoths were thin –
We’d no leviathans to spare,
Just boring humans, ev’rywhere…