Clint Eastwood said something about getting old that stopped me cold.

Aging is not gentle. You are still here. Still present. Still watching the world move.

The body that carried you through everything – the wars, the work, the wildness of youth – begins to ask for more than you can give it.

Joints that never complained now speak in the mornings. Eyes that once took in everything now flinch at the light. Breathing, which never required a single thought, starts needing little pauses. But none of that is the hardest part.

The hardest part is the quiet.

At a certain age, you reach for the phone and remember there is no one left to call. The people who knew you when you were young – who remember the same summers, the same streets, the same faces – are gone. One by one, then all at once, until the memories you carry, have no one left to share them with.

So you tell the story anyway. To whoever will listen. With a little more color than perhaps, the truth deserves.

With a touch of pride you’ve earned and a grief you don’t always name. You know the person across from you wasn’t there. You know they can’t quite feel it this the way you do. But you tell them. Because the telling is the holding on.

Those stories are not just memories. They are the proof that a life was lived. That people were loved. That things mattered. And if no one asked for them – you offer them anyway, quietly, like setting something down on a table and hoping someone picks it up.

Old age is not simply what happens to a face or a body. It is memories looking for a place to rest. And what an old person needs – more than advice, more than solutions, more than someone telling them how to feel – is simply someone willing to sit down, be still, and listen. Not to fix anything. Just to be there. That is the whole gift. And it cost nothing. Wild whispers.

car faults

The car has on three separate occasions developed a fault, which appears to be caused by the dashboard panel. 

On each occasion

The door windows won't open or shut.

The wing mirrors won't open or shut.

The blowers, heated screens (front and rear) don't operate.

The heated/air conditioned seats don't operate.

The panel on/off button doesn't work

The screen shows every function, but none work when pressed.

The cabin temperature controls don't work.

The Auto start stop switch on central panel doesn't work.

The dashboard panel lighting for switches flickers whilst driving.

The panel has temporarily resumed function, only to fail again soon after.

All these problems have re occurred after being repaired twice.

2986

Bungsamran

1) Soey........ 15kg (p)

2) mekong... 10kg (m)

3) mekong....28kg (p)

4) mekong....28kg (p)

5) mekong...25kg (p)

6) mekong...14kg (m)

7) siamese.... 10kg (m)

8) tilapia.... 1lb (p)

9) mekong.... 40kg (m)

10) mekong.... 43kg (p)   223kg @ 12:15

11) mekong..... 40kg (p)

12) mekong..... 20kg (m)

13)mekong...... 23kg (p

14) mekong..... 30kg (m)

15) mekong.... 20kg (p)

16) mekong..... 20kg (m)

17) mekong .... 30kg (p)

18) mekong.... 40kg (p)

19) mekong.... 30kg (p)

20) mekong.... 30kg (m)  283kg @ 15:40  total = 506kg 

21) mekong .... 30kg (p)

22) mekong.... 28kg (m)

23) mekong..... 38kg (m)

24) mekong.... 38kg (p)

25) mekong.... 30kg (p)

26) mekong.... 42kg (m)

27) mekong.... 25kg (p)

28) mekong.... 25kg (m)

29) mekong... 35kg (p)

30) mekong... 30kg (m)  321kg @ 17:00 total = 827kg

31) mekong.... 20kg (m)

32) mekong.... 25kg (p)

32) mekong... 30kg (m)

33) mekong... 25kg (p)

34) mekong... 23kg (m)

35)

JORDÃO'S JOTTINGS Vs qpr (a)

JORDÃO'S JOTTINGS

queens park rangers 0

WEST BROMWICH ALBION 2

EFL CHAMPIONSHIP SAT 28/9/19

"It ain't over, til it's over!"

One Swallow
Doesn't make a summer,
Three swans flying
In formation
Isn't the onset of doom.
And
Although defeat today
Would be a bummer,
Supporters shouldn't be
Full of gloom.
Battles may be lost
Along the way
Being on the wrong end
Of a score,
The occasional set back
Will be acceptable
As long as we eventually
Win the war.

As the teams took to the field and lined up in their formations, it was clear that Mr Bilic had won the battle on the touch line. QPR had won their last four games and had found a successful formation of three mountains at the back, five across the midfield and two willing runners upfront. Those victories had come against teams without the weaponry that the Baggies possess, so Mr Bilic only tweaked one position, that being the reintroduction of Grady Diangana to the side in place of Filipe Kravinovic, with Matheus Pereira getting the number ten berth. This allowed the Baggies to drag the big, cumbersome centre backs out wide to have to try and stop Albions wide men.
Rangers in the early stages were willing to test the Baggies backline, but found them resolute and uncompromising. There were some niggly fouls from either side and it disrupted the games flow, but if any side looked the more comfortable it was the Albion, with Pereira drifting in and out, being a nuisance. His vision and guile were evident with a stunning through ball for Phillips who forced a corner. Austin had a chance, but his effort was blocked and the Baggies were slowly taking a strangle hold on the match. Rangers frontman Hugill was certainly making himself known to Kyle Bartley, who only let him out of his pocket when the halftime whistle blew. Ferguson was up against one of the divisions brightest wing backs in Manning, but he was immaculate in his strength and positioning, making sure Johnstone was a mere spectator for virtually the entire half.
In truth the Baggies were rather profligate up front too, with Austin showing plenty of endeavour, but the final ball eluded him on several occasions. As stated at the start of the report, the Baggies boss had out thought Mr Warburton and allowed the visitors to have a firm hold on the game. The plan was very easy to see, yet Warburton failed to combat it.

Ht 0-0

As the second half started it was clear that not only did QPR fail to address their weakness, they compounded it by venturing the wing backs even further forwards, thus falling into the Baggies trap, by exposing their three tree trunk centre backs to the pace of Diangana and Phillips, with the sublime skill of Pereira. Sawyers and skipper Livermore began to get a vice like grip on the game and suddenly Albion were a very dangerous animal. The foul count from the home side was rattling along as the Baggies went through the gears. The other difference in the sides was the potency of the players on the bench.
Lumley in the Rangers goal had been the busier of the keepers and was maybe a touch slow in responding to Ferguson's speculative drive from distance. Such was the space in the Rangers midfield, the young fullback ran unchallenged a full 30 yards before cutting inside and rifling a low shot which sped past the startled keeper. It was a sublime moment, as the excellent Ferguson excitedly ran to the massed ranks of supporters behind the goal to celebrate. Chants of "He's one of our own" and "We're top of the league" rang down from the packed double tiered stand.
The Baggies were looking ominous now, with some superb moves, mainly focused around the majestic skills of Pereira, forcing Lumley into two superb saves. Austin, who is beginning to look like a player desperate for a goal, saw a superb drive pushed aside, as did Diangana, who'd mesmerised the defenders before unleashing a rasping drive which again Lumley pushed wide. Robson-Kanu replaced Austin and Edward's swapped with Phillips and the Baggies intensity increased even more. A brilliant Sawyers through ball had Robson-Kanu scampering in behind the tiring back three of Rangers. Youan Barbet pulled the striker down twenty yards from goal, feigned an injury to try and extract sympathy from the referee, but to choruses of "Cheerio" from the Baggies fans the defender was shown the red card. The stage was set for the Brazilian magician to seal the points, as Pereira stood intently over the ball. His run up suggested a curling shot into the top corner and the defensive wall obliged by jumping in anticipation of such. Pereira then arrowed a low shot under the wall and it nestled in the bottom corner watched by a flat footed Lumley. Pereira, like Ferguson celebrated infront of the adoring hordes, even drawing his hand, blade like across his throat to indicate that the game was over. He was substituted soon afterwards as his brilliance had upset a few of the Rangers players who may have sought retribution. Pereira with a huge smile on his face, stroked a Rangers player on the cheek, who took offence and shoved the impish South American in the back. Kravinovic, who was replacing the Brazilian found it all hilarious as Mr Bilic put an arm around the Baggies player.
Back on the pitch, the Baggies were now hunting a third goal, Edward's (twice) and Robson-Kanu were both thwarted by Lumley, but the Rangers threat (if ever there was one) had long since petered out.
The final whistle sounded and the Baggies were temporarily perched on the top of the division. The work in progress has reached fruition, the players looked like they'd played together for years, the sheer brilliance of Pereira has us rubbing our eyes in disbelief at times. The metronomic poise and prowess of Ajayi and Sawyers is building with every game. The exuberance and burgeoning reputation of Edward's and Ferguson is a benchmark for the other youngsters in the camp. In fact its difficult to not mention every player after a performance of such superiority against a challenger. The impending return of Hegazi, Gibbs and Barry shouldn't be ignored either. Mr Bilic the overseer, the tactical supremo, is forging a very cohesive and dangerous unit...... It's early days obviously, but let's enjoy our progress and with that in mind I leave you with this......

The orchestra waits
The stage is set,
For a symphony of sport
Full of melody and passion.
The piece, already composed
The conductor appears,
No bow tie and tails
Suit and trainers the fashion.
The occasional nod
Pointed gesture or two,
Then the soloists conjure
Up the magic of their art.
The orchestra in the finest,
Green and yellow livery
The epic has just begun
This is just the start.
The wingers soar
The defence being the percussion,
Midfield blowing the horns
A tempest of flight and sound.
Our conductor oversees all
As players revel in the delight,
This masterpiece is unfolding
Wherever the Baggies are found.

We have a genius in our midst.........

Jordào

A REAL MAN AMONGST MEN

A REAL MAN AMONGST MEN

Today we lost a brother
To some a childhood had died,
Stood amongst flowers, flags, scarves
And grown men with heads bowed cried.

A rare gem of beauty, raw power and pace
The glittering smile I'll remember
As much as his stunning goals
Now, with the "King" he takes his place.

We stood by his side in the Hawthorns
Of that we're loud and proud,
When bananas and monkey chants rained down
He always smiled at the baying crowd.

His head and feet were his weapons
His skill and belief won again and again,
A giant in the legendary blue and white stripes
A real man amongst men.

West Bromwich Albion have lost a son
Now anointed with a true hero's chrism,
With Laurie and Brendon, our legend Big Cyrille
Trampled all over the blight of racism.

Farewell to our Cyrille Regis
Goodbye "Smokin Joe" from us all,
The goals, the class and the dignity
The Lord's now given you the call.

Cyrille Regis 

West Bromwich Albion 1977- 1984
England international.

Rest in peace.

Phil Hall January 2018
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com

Quotes

He had a voice that could make a wolverine purr and suits so fine they made Sinatra look like a hobo.” — Narrator

24. “I immediately regret this decision.” — Ron Burgundy

23. “I’ll have a Manhattan. And kick the vermouth to the side with a pair of steel-toed boots.” — Veronica Corningstone

22. “I love scotch. Scotchy scotch scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly.” — Ron Burgundy

21. “Oh, I can barely lift my right arm ’cause I did so many. I don’t know if you heard me counting. I did over a thousand.” — Ron Burgundy

20. “Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means ‘a whale’s vagina.'” — Ron Burgundy

19. “It’s terrible. She has beautiful eyes, and her hair smells like cinnamon!” — Ron Burgundy

18. “Baxter, is that you? Baxter! Bark twice if you’re in Milwaukee.” — Ron Burgundy

17. ” There were horses, and a man on fire, and I killed a guy with a trident.” — Brick Tamland

16. “You are a smelly pirate hooker. Why don’t you go back to your home on Whore Island?” — Ron Burgundy

15. “I read somewhere their periods attract bears. Bears can smell the menstruation.” — Brick Tamland

13. “I’m very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany.” — Ron Burgundy

12. “You look like a blueberry.” — Veronica Corningstone

11. “The human torch was denied a bank loan.” — Ron Burgundy

10. “It is anchorman, not anchorlady. And that is a scientific fact.” — Champ Kind

9. “I would like to extend to you an invitation to the pants party.” — Brick Tamland

8. “[I’ll] take your mother, Dorothy Mantooth, out for a nice seafood dinner and never call her again.” — Champ Kind

7. “It’s so damn hot. Milk was a bad choice.” — Ron Burgundy

6. “What? You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole wheel of cheese? How’d you do that? Heck, I’m not even mad; that’s amazing.” — Ron Burgundy

5. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.” — Ron Burgundy

4. “They’ve done studies, you know. 60 percent of the time, it works every time.” — Brian Fantana

3. “I’m in a glass case of emotion!” — Ron Burgundy

2. “You know I don’t speak Spanish.” — Ron Burgundy

TENEBROUS RATTLETRAP

TENEBROUS RATTLETRAP

The world of Old Tenebrous Rattletrap
Is a tale of loneliness and woe,
A story of lowness, dismal dismay
And of menacing, meandering melancholy.
Sat in the place he sits
At the end of yet another dismal day,
With unsmiling, unseeing and uncaring eyes
At the world's rumbustious, repugnant folly.
Every night in this worn leather seat
At the inn of quintessentially quiet parlour,
Stirring the steaming, dented silver bowl
He sips at his gruel deep in thought.
Another year is nearly at a close
He has little time for people's podsnappery,
And other puerile pifflings notwithstanding
Where his hard labours amount to nought.
The icy rime reaches crusted window panes
And the river fog curls his arms on the quay,
He nudged, niggled and nurdled through
Streets of fancy and fevered Christmas rush.
And although good cheer is all around
Dusty clock still posts it's mournful chime,
And hollow movement of ghostly hand
Calls silently in the rooms gloomy hush.
The noise of carousing and merrymaking
From the jostling and jocular, singular snug  Did Rattletrap tut, as the frippery unhindered
Did permeate, with a grinding grisly appeal.
One more sip, with a cursory reproach
For the metallic click of door latch
There stood a large dark coated gentleman
Whose face, hidden in shadow, unrevealed.
No words were spoken, not a drink taken
And Rattletrap did stare so, as the man sat,
No utterance, urgency and an unhealthy air
Without breath or any hearty sounds of life.
The stranger removed his hat, and scarf
Revealing a face of a workhouse wretch
His eyes were hollow and deathly cold
His colour grey, full of misery and strife.
The room was bathed in an unworldly glow
Tenebrous Rattletrap dropped his spoon
His voice wrenched from scrawny throat
"What do you want of me" he cried.
The other just sat and raised a wizened arm
Pointing to the revelry beyond the door,
And in a deep and haunting voice did speak
"I never had a Christmas, upto the day that I died"

As Tenebrous stared in horror and dread
The phantom silently stood once again,
Then floated toward the snug room door
Legs thin, dangled beneath him he spoke.
The wooden portal creaked and groaned
And a warmth flooded the dusty room,
Voices and music, a roaring, crackling fire
Rattletrap felt his misery begin to choke.
He looked upon the revelry and hearty cheer
And his lined, thin mouth started a quiver,
Hornpipes and reels, quadrilles singular
Ladies all bustle and lace and daring eye.
The men jostling, posturing in bold acclaim
Some fleet of foot and flashing manner so,
Dowagers, well upholstered and dowdy
With envy, looks as cold as the snow silently drifting from the sky.
Rattletrap was ushered into the melee
Wassail thrust upon his softening lips,
Laughter as with glazing eye and demeanour
He tripped into a faltering and flimsy jig.
The chagrin increased in intensity
Fiddles scraped and he was swept away
With ladies all powder and scented sweet
He danced, drank and shared dates and fig.
The years fell from once vacant visage
Frozen, forlorn and faltering frown,
Suddenly like a slate wiped clean away
His heart surged with sugary sweetness.
Seeking stolen kisses under the mistletoe
Tenebrous was a wonderful, winter king,
Cobwebs swept from his once dungeon heart
As unique as could be in uniqueness.
The men, of comfortable disposition
With glowing nose to match sturdy boot,
Did toast this fine, felicitous, fitting fellow
With twinkling glasses.of negus and Pineapple rum.
The one named Pickwick raised his pot and did espouse
"For Christmas cheer and merriment
Good friends I bid this salute to all
And prosperity in the new year to come."
All did cheer and back slap heartily
And the musicians roistered a galop,
With twirls, twinkle toes and tiaras
Sparkling, invigorating candlelit gems.
Elsewhere the parlour held its silence
With the ghosts of a long time past,
The glow returned to the cold ashen hearth
Champagne flutes again lifted from stems.
For the cloaken man had again returned
With others who had died in poverty,
They watched in silence as the living sang
Cold eyes, now aflame with invigorating glory.
Tenebrous saw the silent throng gathered
And he raised a hand to the cloaken man,
He'd realised that Christmas is for all to cherish
And for peace and happiness to be the recurring story.

Phil Hall December 2018
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com Picture: Cruikshank (No Claim)

Swindon friendly

SWINDON 1 WEST BROMWICH ALBION 3

14/07/2018 Pre season friendly

West Brom took part in a friendly match at the County ground Swindon, which was unusual in the fact that it had two 60 minute halves. Darren Moore was happy to give his 22 man squad a longer run out, albeit in extremely hot weather.

Once again Albions new keeper Sam Johnstone was missing and rookies Alex Palmer and Brad House took turns with the gloves. Of the regular first team squad Nacer Chadli and Ahmed Hegazi (both World Cup duty), Keiron Gibbs, Salomon Rondon, Allan Nyom and Sam Field (injured) were missing, with James MacClean and Craig Dawson unavailable for other reasons.

There was a welcome return to action for stalwart Jimmy Morrison, who though out of contract is still training with the squad. The three other players extra to the squad, Keiron Richardson, Martin Crainie and Nigel Reo Coker all featured.

The stand out performers in a well contested affair were Kyle Edwards and Jack Fitzwater, Edwards in particular showing great pace and skill on the ball.
Jake Livermore made a welcome return and Jay Rodriguez showed energy and desire, although linked with a move away from the Hawthorns.
For Swindon Elijah Adebayo gave our rookie centre backs a good work out, indeed he scored the equaliser after JRod had opened the scoring after great work by Edwards and Kane Wilson set him up. Edwards grabbed his goal with a burst of pace, latching on to a defence splitting pass from the elegant Rekeem Harper. Young centre back Kyle Jameson grabbed the third with a towering header from a corner to wrap up the win.

The Baggies eased through the rest of the game, though Swindon rattled the crossbar with a fine strike from distance late on.
Big Dave (Darren Moore) was very pleased with the application and togetherness of the whole squad, especially after a week of intense training in Scotland.

JORDĀO'S JOTTINGS VS Birmingham

JORDĀO'S JOTTINGS

MASTERMIND

BIRMINGHAM CITY 1
WEST BROMWICH ALBION 1

EFL CHAMPIONSHIP 
Fri 14th September  Kick off 19:45

The theme for tonight's game was going to be a rather strained and tenuous link. It was all about road signs, I'd got it all worked out, puns, cliches, play on words..... all sorts, for example, Birmingham's pitch has always had an "Adverse Camber", The wind sock sign would have been employed if Dwight Gayle was running riot, of course if we'd lost it would've been "Keep right on to the end of the road, then turn left, stop at the lights, third left, across the roundabout and then follow the signs to the Hawthorns"

But, after witnessing the so called "Passing" game, I immediately thought of "Mastermind", the black chair, Magnus Magnusson (I know I'm going back a bit), but it was a chosen subject of ninety minutes, not two.

Magnus "Good evening and welcome to mastermind,  the four contestants tonight are"
Kyle Bartley "My name's Kyle Bartley, I'm a centre half and my chosen subject is passing"
Ahmed Hegazi "I'm Ahmed and my chosen subject is passing"
Chris Brunt " Hi, I'm Chris and I'm supposed to be a central midfielder, my specialist subject is passing"
Magnus "But first can Dwight Gayle please take the chair" "Dwight, your 90 minutes start now" "What was your aim for tonight?"
Dwight "To make runs into space and score goals"
Magnus "Correct" "And what didn't your midfielders do?"
Dwight "Pass"
Magnus "Correct" "The defenders instead of clearing their lines decided to do what?"
Dwight "Pass"
Magnus "Correct" "In the last few minutes Harvey Barnes hit the bar, what"
Beeep, beep beep, beep!!!
Magnus "I've started so I'll finish!", "What did you successfully do in order for him to have the chance?"
Dwight "Pass"
Magnus "Correct" "And at the end of that round Dwight you never got any chances."

The other three stay firmly in their seats, twiddling thumbs and looking sheepish.
Magnus "So that's the end of the game, the others made no passes"

In truth, the game was entertaining, in as much that it was an eye rubbing experience. How can a team who played with such skill and pace, energy and inventiveness against Stoke and QPR look so ordinary when pitted against a side who were industrious, but obviously limited in their capabilities? We were awful, plain and simple, apart from Phillips and Barnes who still carried a threat even after it was obvious Birmingham had a "kick lumps out of them two" policy from the first minute.

If our "Chosen Subject" of passing was bad, then the "General knowledge" section was dreadful, with some players not knowing what colour kit they were playing in. Birmingham scored through the Baggies losing comfortable possession in the wrong area, then allowing the Blues time and acres of space to basically do what they want. Another piece of suicidal passing gave the opposition chance to make it 2-0, but for the second time this season, young Sam Johnstone saved the resultant penalty, after a few minutes of near Kamikaze defending. I'm certainly no prophet, or top class coach, but, I warned in the pre match notes that Birmingham would press our defence and be a threat out wide. They did both, because our midfield two are being overrun or just outfought on occasion. We are where we are because our firepower can salvage and even snatch victory or at least a point in the blink of an eye. Matty Phillips did just that, with individual persistence and quality to wrestle back the match when it looked like we'd go into the break losing. On the balance of play Birmingham, (if they had our strikers) would've been out of sight.

Ht 1-1

The stats stated that the Baggies enjoyed 63% possession, it certainly didn't feel like it. The second half didn't match the first in pace or energy and with Birmingham not showing much creativity it offered the Baggies chance to dictate the play. But,  once again the decision making and execution of pass was inept. Hegazi and Bartley continued to try and give Blues a clear scoring opportunity, luckily their strikers were either too shocked to be allowed in on goal so easy, or more likely they're just not up to much.
On this showing the Baggies have a lot of work to do to even reach the play offs, even then it'd be a rabid optimist who'd think we'd survive in the premier league. Barnes hit the bar late on, as Albion finished the stronger, though it would have been extremely harsh on Birmingham if it had gone in.

Verdict.
Some of our players are really struggling with the system and the playing philosophy being asked of them. The playing out from the back is all well and good against sides who set up to sit back and hit on the break, but against high tempo in your face opposition we look very, very average and at times embarrassing. We could and possibly should have been hammered tonight.
There's no honeymoon period in this division, there's certainly no respect for ex premier league teams, it's blood and thunder football and some of our players tonight were found very wanting. Such is the nature of this league the Baggies will most likely tear Bristol City apart on Tuesday, but to most observers tonight, we might need to have a new "Chosen Subject" and bring in one or two new contestants.

JORDĀO'S JOTTINGS V DERBY quotes

Pressure is something you feel when you don't know what the hell you're doing.

Peyton Manning

In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.

Jean-Paul Sartre

Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.

Oscar Wilde

One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity, there ain't nothin' can beat teamwork. 

Edward Abbey

Slow motion goes one of two ways. It either makes it look really, really cool, or it makes it look really, really bad. 

Blake Griffin

The difference between perseverance and obstinacy is that one comes from a strong will, and the other from a strong won't. 

Henry Ward Beecher

The only thing that we cannot control is our supporters. 

Jose Mourinho 

I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.

Haruki Murakami 

PHOENIX IN THE SKY

If I pray hard enough
Will you come back?
Without you the sun's gone
The skies have turned black.
The rivers have ceased flowing
All lakes have dried up,
The bread has gone stale
No wine in my cup.
The birds have ceased singing
No bees left to hum,
My heart has stopped beating
My mind has gone numb.

I miss you so much
Why did you have to die?
In life you were a butterfly
Now a phoenix in the sky.

I think of you always
I've still a tear in my eye,
I kiss the remaining picture of you
And that's when I cry.
The times we held hands
Walked by the sea on powdery sand,
And all of a sudden
The Lord made his demand.
He wanted a new Angel
To sit by his side,
And he called out to you
The almighty cannot be denied.

But, I miss you so much

WAR BOW

WAR BOW

Bowyers fashioned and carved
A warbow made of the finest yew,
From which a deadly arrow
The bodkin flew.
French Knights in finest armour
In their thousands slew,
By English archers at Agincourt.

The heavy destrier horses
Tried to dash,
Across the mud,
Henrys line to smash.
Into the storm
Flying arrows of ash,
Sent by the English archers at Agincourt.

The deadly war bow
Had won the day,
The common man
Now held sway.
A killing machine
What made King Charles pay,
Destroyed by the English archers at Agincourt.

Hempen string
Woven for power,
In thousands could send
A hail shower.
French men at arms
Could only cower,
Under the barrage from the English archers at Agincourt.

Henry V made
His famous ‘Band of Brothers’,
Train at the ‘Butts’,
Gaining power like no other.
Accuracy which snatched
A son from his mother,
The skilful English archer at Agincourt.

The war bow a symbol
Of the archers might,
The goose feathered darts
An awesome sight.
Piercing armour clad warrior
And mounted knight.
Slain by the English archer at Agincourt.

Today in churchyards
Yews shadows are cast,
Bowyer and Archer are just
Names from the past.
The war bow its place in history
Will always last,
Made legend by the English archer at Agincourt.

“We few, we happy few
We band of brothers
He who sheds blood on the field
With me today,
Shall be my brother”

From Henry V
By
William Shakespeare
Battle of Agincourt 1415.

Phil Hall  March 2103
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture:Phil Hall Crapart 2017 (Dead of Knight)

THE LEGEND OF TOM BAWCOCK

MAGIC OF MOUSEHOLE: FISH PIE.

Kows orthiv yn Korniwek,
As Nyns yw unnyeth lowr.......
(Speak to me in Cornish, as one language is never enough.)

My futtocks suffer with Gwidgee gwees
And the doc he's fay Zam zoodled,
You see am are a tad Figgy hobbin
'Arter zackley teyr bras Oggy.
But the futtocks are true Girt licker
And it'll take time to be Ally cumpooster
The Didikoy doth declare,
I walk, it's said like a Chuggy pig
Or even an ancient, Narky Cannikeeper.
That's better it be than a Kewny Bulorn
A Padgypaw and warty Quilkin,
So I'll stagger my buffers to a Kiddlywink
And drink with gnarled Medhow'd duffers.
The Huer calls "Fumado!!!"
The boats scuttle out on the Oggin,
And the little ones are soon
Smiling up from the crust.

STARGAZY

" Merry place you may believe, tiz Mouzel 'pon Tom Bawcock's eve.
To be then who wouldn't wesh, to sup o' Sibm soorts o' fish
When morgy breath had cleared the path
Corned lances for a fry
And then us had a bit o' scad
And Starry- gazie pie
As aich we'd clunk, E's health we drunk
In bumpers bremmen high."

(Anon, from 17th century legend of a local fisherman, Tom Bawcock, who went fishing and brought back a huge haul of pilchards in terrible weather off the Cornish coast near the little village of Mousehole, pronounced Mouzel).

Phil Hall   October 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture: Crapart Phil Hall 2017

TENDER TOUCH

Oh for your tender touch
That silken wisp of pleasure,
The outpouring of life giving treasure
A parting of sweet tasting skin.
Oh the sound of short lived gasp
The adrenaline rush
The savage crimson gush
As sinew parts within.
Oh for the delicious conclusion
The severing of vertebral bone,
The crowds collective moan
Where eternity does begin.
Oh for that last tender touch
As the blade in flashing fall,
The throat fills with spittle and gall
And the head falls in the bin.

Phil Hall November 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com

NO SHIT SHERLOCK

Have you had a trip or fall?
Watching TV and you get a cold call,
These arseholes make me
Want to scream or bawl
No shit Sherlock!
The sun can do damage to your eye
Take out insurance for when you die,
Don't forget your passport
Whenever you fly....
No shit Sherlock!
Put on antiseptic for your cuts
Read the small print, no ifs or buts,
This walnut cream gateau
May contain nuts
No shit Sherlock!
Go to the loo, now wash your hands
Make you sit when you're in a stand,
Respect the local customs
When in a foreign land.....
No shit Sherlock!
Pointless signs within easy reach
Yards to the sand, it says "To the beach"
It's said that those who can't do
Try to teach....
No shit Sherlock!
Don't do that and you can't do this
Stupid regulations that take the piss,
Conformity with the norm
I'll give it a miss.
No shit Sherlock!
Health and safety, the nanny state
If I want I'll be a bull at a gate,
Can I for once live my life
And seal my own fate....
Shove it Sherlock.

Phil Hall August 2017
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com

RESPECT TO ALL

It's time to show respect to all
These words need to be said,
I'll make tea for the next burgler
Who robs me when I'm in bed.
In fact I'll leave the keys under the mat
So he doesn't get himself hurt,
He might fall out of the window
So I'd dust off all the dirt.
We could let out all the murderers
Paedophiles and the terrorist,
Maybe even let off the car driver
Who kills when he is pissed.
Extend the hand of friendship
To a dictator who butcher's his own folk,
As he stock piles weapons to murder us
We should see it as a joke.
Give thanks and praise to all smokers
Especially during their pregnancy,
To the morbidly obese needing surgery
They've a right, just like you and me.
Let's hear it for the tax dodgers
And the fraudsters not insuring their cars,
To the lazy, talentless unemployable ones
Who just dream of being a star.
Respect to the girls who sleep with anyone
Who may be a film or football star,
Then sell their sordid story in the news
What delightful creatures they all are.
I love all the politicians and civil servants
Who feather their own nest,
Especially the ones who patronize us
I like them ones the best.
I'll hug a suicide bomber
And if he explodes.... who cares?
His obviously unknowing family
Will still get the benefits and welfare.
I'll worship with all the different faiths
And embrace their unique traits,
beheadings and genital mutilation
I'm sure I can relate.
From the priests with disturbing tendencies
To those who perform unnatural acts,
It's not worth the hassle complaining
Due to massaging of the facts.
So, I'll look around in contemplation
With the madness being unfurled,
Keep shtum when crap disturbs me
As we have to conform to a PC world.

Phil Hall September 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture: Phil Hall (Respect) Crapart 2017

TINPOT

Tinpot dictators and such nutjobs
They pop up occasionally,
Only to briefly cause a nuisance
Before being squashed finally.
Like the archetypal Bond villain
All boiler suit and oddly cut hair,
We've Kim Jung Un and his warheads
Firing them with a devil may care.
Maybe this tinpot is angry
As the West don't take him seriously,
Because his first name is a bit girly
And his chubby face resembles a piggy.
Most likely he's got a very small penis
And his first girlfriend had told him so,
But, to now threaten the world's a bit much
Just because he's got not much below.
His henchmen in their starched uniforms
All laugh nervously at his terrible jokes,
Though the rest of the world isn't laughing
As the fires of war he stokes.
He's full of rhetoric and bombast
His propaganda we've all heard before,
Many a tyrant has spouted such crap
Before being shown life's exit door.
To become an infamous, despotic tinpot
Be a bit more villainous and have style,
Because at the moment you just look like a bit of a twat
And your teenage petulance sticks out a mile.
So Kim, please go and tidy your room
Also finish your mathematics homework,
Stop annoying your betters with tantrums
And behaving like a childish berk.

Phil Hall
September 2017
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Drawing: Phil Hall (Tinpot) Crap art 2017.

I TAKE MY LEAVE OF YOU

Well, I suppose that's that
Left high and dry,
Thoughts of love and togetherness
All just pie in the sky.
Am I surprised?
Good Lord... am I hell?
Though I'm left with a nausea
A feeling of unwell.
Bewildered and batterered
Emotional and dazed,
A psychological malaise
Eyes reddened and glazed.
The last fading look
An executioners mask,
A vitriolic draught of bitterness
From a once sweet, vibrant cask.
As the axe fell, a light died
A final misted breath exhaled,
The knife was retrieved, resheathed
From the heart it had impaled.

But, then came a light
Like the walk to heavens gate,
To others of a broken heart
I'm sure they could relate.
The feeling of loss and emptiness
Now replaced by freshened air,
True friends of the heart do rally
When your soul is laid bare.
The mind can set to work again
Rebuilding the broken road,
A new bridleway to happiness
New seeds to be sowed.
That life now a distant memory
Consigned to a mildewed album,
Those dreams and aspirations
Just an unanswerable sum.
So this goodbye is final
That chapter will be erased too,
No looking back with fondness anymore
I take my leave of you.

Phil Hall August 2017
Copyright: philthepoet61.blogspot.com