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Barry Stebbings Poem
I, The Clone
So that I would not live alone,
My parents thought I should be a clone.
They cloned at first two then four,
Then they cloned just four more.
Being the first parents in the nation
Practising exponential regeneration
They tried again to double the brood
Using methods not fully understood.
Breeding at this prodigious rate
I soon numbered two thousand and forty eight.
And, allowing for those not now alive,
Next became four thousand and sixty five.
So I continued to expand,
Filling up towns throughout the land,
And, some years after the age of consent
Held all the seats in Parliament.
And so it’s easy now to see
How I became my own M.P.
When I numbered six million and forty two,
I was army, navy and air force too.
At ten billion three hundred and twenty eight,
I became head of every state,
And, depending on my point of view
Deposed myself with war and coup.
So by accident or by intent
Became first global President.
Now four trillion seven hundred and ninety three
The only person in the world is me.
28th Feb. 2016
Originally drafted in the days of Dolly The Sheep.
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2016
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Barry Stebbings Poem
My Pet Tiger
I took my pet tiger to my doctor
Because it had a very bad day.
Now, my tiger’s depression is still there,
But my doctor has gone away.
Barry Stebbings
08/23/17
For 'Animal Nonsense' Contest
by Kevin Shaw
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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Barry Stebbings Poem
My Reflection
In the mirror who did I see?
I saw my reflection staring back at me.
But in the next mirror upon the wall
I saw there was no one there at all.
Had I left my own image behind
For another person to come and find?
On looking in a mirror what would you do,
If you saw someone who was not you?
Barry Stebbings
08/14/18
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018
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Barry Stebbings Poem
Jill The Dentist
There was once a dentist named Jill
Who thought she was good with a drill
And found doing a filling
Really quite thrilling;
If only her patients stayed still.
06/04/17
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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Barry Stebbings Poem
Spring
When the Season turns and Old Winter spent,
Sudden colour blossoms on budding trees.
The daffodil blooms and young Spring’s sweet scent
Is gentle carried on the evening breeze.
Fast changing period of restless mood,
Faltering sun and uncertain showers.
Sleeping souls wake from Winter solitude
Aroused by Spring’s lengthening daylight hours.
Migrating birds return on sun warmed wings,
By shaded woodland the yellow primrose
Blooms. Nights shorten and the first Cuckoo sings
And all around Nature’s industry grows.
Barry Stebbings
21/02/17
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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Barry Stebbings Poem
Lost Love
In that long dark sadness of your leaving
Neither star nor moon will give light to me
And no sunlit dawn will ease my grieving,
Neither time nor distance enlighten me.
But return with love as your alibi
And your excuses for departing done.
Then does the bright dawn light the darkened sky
And hope reborn with the arisen sun.
Should your stay be shorter than a Winter’s day
When the scarcely lit hours cold comfort give,
Then leave and let me with sharp sorrow stay
And in darkening dusk’s dying hours live.
Your name is joy and joyful your return,
But not to return; dawn to dusk will turn.
07/21/18
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018
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Barry Stebbings Poem
You Came To Me (out of the Winter’s snow)
You came to me out of the Winter’s snow,
On the scented breeze of the early Spring,
When shifting winds of fortune oft’ times blow
And in my waiting heart I heard you sing.
It was errant chance brought you to my door,
The warmth of Summer’s kiss upon your lips,
To drink of your love and left wanting more
As vintage wine is drunk in measured sips.
And when the span of Summer’s heat is passed
And Autumn’s uncertain wind shakes the boughs
My hope for your love, by degrees, is cast;
As the depth of your love for me allows.
For your warmth is not by cool Autumn chilled
And my love for you, by your love fulfilled,
02/03/2020
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2020
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Barry Stebbings Poem
Love Regained
Now is love’s rift rejoined by your return
And my loss at your leaving now undone.
Your name is joy, and joy from sorrow turned
And the time of your loss its season run.
Now is this night become awakened day
And this new Summer’s warmth a healing balm,
Soothing bleak parting’s unwelcome stay
As Winter, banished by this Season’s charm.
My love for you is not by ageing aged,
Nor is it tempered by each Season passed.
But your love regained is loss assuaged
And hope is in future seasons cast.
And the shaded paths of cold reflection
Now made bright by your returned affection.
08/09/18
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018
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Barry Stebbings Poem
Empty Room On A Summer's Day
An empty room where forgotten shadows lay
Under white edged clouds in a bright cobalt sky.
Where Summer’s warm palette paints the sultry day,
Beyond wood framed windows, swooping Swallows fly,
As scented drafts drift under the closed oak door
Lifting long rested dust from the sun warmed floor.
There rays of silver light in the silence gleam,
Sunlit shafts shine in bright iridescent beams.
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018
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Barry Stebbings Poem
One cold and frosty night a snowman looked up at the moon and sang,
Oh, moon! Oh, moon, Oh beauteous moon
What a beautiful moon you are, you are,
What a beautiful moon you are.
Will you sing me a song that is neither short nor long?
The shining moon looked down at the snowman and replied,
Oh, snowman! Oh snowman!
What a tuneful snowman you are, you are,
What a harmonious snowman you are
But I cannot sing you a song,
Neither short nor long;
I am made of green cheese,
And when I sing I sneeze,
But I will give you a succulent roast
And quince jelly on toast,
If you will sing me your song
Neither short nor long,
In your melodious voice
To a tune of your choice
Though you sing from afar, afar,
Though you sing from a distance afar.
But the snowman sang to the moon,
Oh, moon! Oh, moon!
Oh, generous moon,
What a bountiful moon you are, you are,
What a bountiful moon you are.
But on this frosty night
It is really not right
To sing you a song,
Neither short nor long.
There is ice on my nose
And snow on my toes
And this terrible shivering
Is affecting my singing,
No, I cannot sing you a song
From afar, afar,
No, I cannot sing from a distance afar.
12/16/18
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018
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