Maurice Goddard

Anagrammy Awards > Literary Archives > Maurice Goddard

Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.

STAND BY ME

When the night has come
and the land is dark,
And the moon
is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid.
No I won't be afraid,
Just as long as you stand,
stand by me.

Dear Yoko,
I'm losing you, woman.
Watching wheels,
Dream.
No hell below us?
Yes, both hand-in-hand.
Distant stars fading,
Met bitty fate.......
Death-bed.
In sadness,
Ta-ta......
John Lennon

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The first verse of Masefield's The Bluebells.

We stood upon the grass beside the road,
At a wood's fence, to look among the trees.
In windless noon the burning May-time glowed.
Gray, in young green, the beeches stood at ease.
Light speckled in the wood or left it dim:
There lay a blue in which no ship could swim,
Within whose peace no water ever flowed.

Crystal clear waters; the hot blue lagoon,
Anemones, keen molluscs, echinoderms.
O Great Gold Coast, wide coral reef at noon,
In high deep beauty, swim the odd white worms.
True, in a bed of soothing seaweed diving:
Pool orbit, eye-to-eye with Angelfish stunning,
I do know how sweet the deep depth is hewn.

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The third verse of Masefield's The Bluebells.

How paint it; how describe? None has the power.
It only had the power upon the soul
To consecrate the spirit and the hour,
To light to sudden rapture and console,
Its beauty called a truce: forgave: forgot
All the long horror of man's earthly lot,
A miracle unspeakable of flower
In a green May unutterably blue.

Earth's aperture! Inferno! God of Fire!
To Hell on Earth; heat glow in Sicily
Roof erupts; One-eyed Giant Cyclops' pyre,
To the World, hot rocks burn out Italy,
Volcano ash! Spectacular red flow born!
How oldest magma heat bowel all-out torn,
The hue! The breath! Unpalatable air
Heed! Mount Etna spits in undue anger!

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The sixth verse of Masefield's The Bluebells.

None, in the day; and, when the beauty dims,
When moonlight makes the still un-leafy tree,
A spell-bound ghost that cannot move his limbs,
What other passer can be here to see?
The new-come night-jar chirring on the branch?
The nightingale exulting in his hymns?
The wood-mice flitting where the moon-beams blanch?
The wind, in the few fir-trees, like a sea
On which the pale owl like a feather swims?

The Land of the Midnight Sun; Nature's sheen,
Hardanger, high mountains with milk-white snow,
I think, which time enchants in bonnie scene?
Thrushes sing, calm water, beget the glow.
Apple-blossom time, and bees pollinate,
Hence, hath heavenly scent, then artist theme?
Next the Bible? Ah, I think: Who Earth create?
Oh! Wheel of Life! The Fjord home, boats row.
Norway! In Magic May! Fields yellow-green.

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A poem by Emile Brontë.

"No coward soul is mine"

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

"No desirous clown am I"

Grow high harmonious bliss,
Dearest love, fuller life done, and hope enquire?
Than in moments blown, I miss:
Mars man, roses are red, the secret fire.

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A poem by Pam Ayres.

Oh No, I Got a Cold!

I am sitting on the sofa
By the fire and staying in,
Me head is free of comfort
And me nose is free of skin.
Me friends have run for cover,
They have left me pale and sick
With me pockets full of tissues
And me nostrils full of Vick.

That bloke in the telly adverts,
He's supposed to have a cold.
He has a swig of whatnot
And he drops off, good as gold,
His face like snowing harvest
Slips into sweet repose.
Well, I bet this tortured breathing
Never whistled down his nose.

I burnt me bit of dinner
'Cause I've lost me sense of smell,
But then, I couldn't taste it,
So that worked out very well.
I'd buy some, down the café
But I know that at the till
A voice from work will softly say,
'I thought that you were ill.'

So I'm wrapped up in a blanket
With me feet upon a stool,
I've watched the telly programmes
And the kids come home from school.
But what I haven't watched for
Is any sympathy,
'Cause all you ever get is:
'Oh no, keep away from me!'

Medicinal discovery,
It moves in mighty leaps,
It leapt straight past the common cold
And gave it us for keeps.
I'm not a fussy woman,
There's no malice in me eye,
But I wish that they could cure
the common cold. That's all. Goodbye.

It's not always so easy,
When constipation dams you,
Traumatic wind and farting,
Sitting straining on the loo.
With gastroenteritis,
Bellyache feels like hell,
No appetite whatsoever,
Giving off a real bad smell.

The TV ads to aid relief,
It's Natural Senokot,
It works gently overnight,
Every day to make you plop!
No one with constipation,
Never ever feels good,
Not one bowel movement in a week,
And you feel right off your food!

Gastrointestinal trouble,
Feeling bloated? Symptoms seen?
Senokot helps those hard dry stools,
If you need, and haven't been?
You want to shit, and feel bad,
But movement is still hard,
The song is but another fart,
O dear me! Your arse is charred!

Move vast muck off bowels which ache?
Help! Fed up! defy shit's whiff?
Fill the tummy up with food,
Chew chops! Add chips if fish.
Whim's chew! Scoff ham! Lick mouth!
Still can't go...? Secluded make?
Dim acme's comic case, I retch,
Me vomits! Chum tummy ache!

I have tried all kinds of pills,
The advice which way to see?
Senokot makes you better,
To help move hard stools and wee!
The cure is soft and gentle,
Wow! Bum relief! Hark! Stop!
Hi! The tummy's bowels are smooth,
At last I've shite!!! Tum toilet plop!!!

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When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do.

Fate is kind
She brings to those
who love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing.
Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true.

If you wish to see a win
Get rich quick and see balls spin
Try your luck, a random shot
The National Lottery!
My six numbers? I'm no fool...
Draw! O see a fortune pool
If you wish to see a win
So please heed me!

Some high stakes!
Sad loser? Rough!
Twenty-five? sure enough!
Of course fourteen's due...
Our "hoorah!" And number two!
Supernatural forty-three,
Thirty-eight as twenty-three!
If you wish to see a win?
O run! Heed me!

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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