adventures in dysthymia

Sunday, July 19, 2009

A GLASS

A glass of wine may make me jolly
But two can turn me melancholy,
And taking three is simple folly
For I'll fall asleep, by golly!

I'll have one for my stomach's sake,
Though several seems a mistake;
Too many glasses surely make
Anybody's tummy ache!

Good food is certainly a sign
To pour another glass of wine,
So bring a bottle when we dine:
Fill up yours and fill up mine!

A glass of wine just might enhance
The mood that leads us to romance;
But sometimes we'll make an advance
When we shouldn't take the chance!

Stephen Brooke ©2009


IN FIVE ACTS

There was a Dane
in great pain;
going insane,
in fact.
An act,
it could have been.
He blamed his kin
of shameful sin;
an uncle accused
and not amused.
He could have used
more tact.
A pact,
the young prince made
with Father's shade,
debts to be paid.

But meanwhile he
could not see
a reason to be
or not.
He thought
too much, it seems,
of dark and dreams,
while Uncle's schemes
were put in play.
What can one say?
That was his way:
he sought,
he fought.
With too much rage,
too young an age,
he left the stage.

Stephen Brooke ©2009

a double dose of doggerel!

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