The VIP - a daft ditty!
There’s a village deep in the heart of Brittany,

With some lovely buildings, church and Marie,

Where not so long ago they faced a tragedy.

They had two bars and a fine boulangerie,

An etang which really was something to see,

And good folks who formed a fine community.

The horror occurred without any warning,

And suddenly the folks got up in the morning

With low hearts and a deep sense of mourning.

The village had lost its VI and unprepared

They had nobody in mind who actually dared

To fill the post, being both awed and quite scared.

So, the Mayor took up the task he faced,

And adverts were in the papers placed,

Asking for folk to apply in great haste

To fill, as you’ll see, the VIP vacancy.

He waited and waited somewhat helplessly

Praying to God that somebody would see

The advert and apply to the villages VIP.

The good burgers held their breaths patiently

And at last somebody took the vacancy.

There was great rejoicing at the good news,

And certainly the chap had all the right views

To fill the position, driving off their sad blues.

He had all the advantages of the semi-literate

And the folks celebrations were almost immediate

That they’d filled so well the Post of Village Idiot.

The Human Spirit:

There is written within us the capacity

For responses ranging from shallow to deep,

And emotions of huge complexity

Whilst we’re both awake and asleep.

We dream such wild dreams, day and night,

Our hearts soar to touch God’s face,

Living or dead our souls take flight,

Bowing not to time or space.

Music reaches somewhere within,

Which logic says should not exist

And lights the dark places wherein

Lies that which God chose to kiss.

We are more by far than intellect,

And mere sinew, flesh and bone,

And thus we weep when we reflect

On sorrows, though to us unknown.

And he’ll lay down his life for a stranger,

Or she, a child she knows not at all,

Both fully aware of the danger

But driven by their spirit’s call.

This human spirit will wildly dance

To a tune a wandering fiddler plays,

And hurl itself in absurd romance,

Losing and loving through all the days.

It’s a divine spark that make us stand,  

While tears run free across our cheeks,

As we stare at a planet, or a grain of sand,

And the heart and soul within us speaks,

That gives us awe at the world around,

And the touch of beauty that takes our breath,

Making thought redundant and the only sound

A demanding pulse that’s denying death.

Hate and Love wear different clothes,

Both will drive us where madness dwells.

Better that than our spirit grows

Stunted and cold and we sell ourselves

To the rational, sane, safe and the dull,

And beauty in nature, music and art

Passes us by as we crouch in a hole,

Totally crushing both our soul and heart.

Live life, love, rage, rant and shout,

Take the world, shake it by the tail,

Passion is what life’s about,

Free your spirit, let the soul prevail!