Writing
Stranger things have happened
don’t be a stranger
said the stranger
to the stranger…
How I love watching clouds move
slowly drifting
across the sky
like fluffy white ships
on an endless journey
a dance of shapes
and shadows
they paint pictures
on a blue canvas
shifting and changing
with the wind
I could watch
them for hours
and never grow tired
of their ever changing beauty
how I love watching clouds move
photo by yours truly
Your moles
I count
your moles
on your limbs
and face
I can’t help
but notice
they’re all in
the right place
What’s left of the past
memories linger
like whispers in the wind
faded photographs
and worn-out letters
echoes of laughter
and tears long gone
what’s left of the past
but fragments of time
a dusty attic
filled with forgotten treasures
mementos of love
and sorrow intertwined
the ghosts of yesterday
still haunt these walls
what’s left of the past
but echoes of life
How have I gotten to this?
how have I gotten to this?
lost in the labyrinth of my own mind
wandering through shadows of doubt and fear
each step a question mark
each turn a dead end
a journey of self-discovery
or self-destruction
the path unclear
the destination unknown
caught in the web of my own making
trapped in the echoes of my past
a puzzle with pieces missing
searching for answers in the silence
lost in the maze of my own creation
how have I gotten to this?
It’s in the air (shit smells)
in the bathroom
an unpleasant smell
lingers on
a scent from hell
a reminder
that we can’t ignore
open the window
and it’s there no more
Football
people
who call football
soccer
should watch football
Birds of a feather
when I listen carefully
I can hear birds talk
making fun of the way we walk
and discussing
the weather
they are all the same
these birds of a feather
My lavender
my lavender
entertains the busy bees
whilst I observe
I’m on my knees…
Not every
not every path
has to be paved
not every life
needs to be saved
not every child
well behaved
not every face cleanly shaved
not every tombstone engraved
not every meal microwaved
not every loony crazed
not every poem praised
well…apart from this one…
Right to bare arms
I don’t
own a gun
but I have the right
to bare arms
Poetquoet
A panorama of beauty
a cracked post
with a view
it stands alone
weathered and true
the scars of time
etched in its wood
a testament to the strength
it withstood
through years
of storms and winds
it remains steadfast
never rescinds
the view from atop
its weathered height
a panorama of beauty
a pure delight
Photo by Poetpas
My Groucho moment
Yours truely
yours truly
can be a bit unruly
thought provoking
till you’re choking
gasping for air
but I don’t care
my truth lies here
fair and square…
Man can be cruel
man can be cruel
fear is his fuel
lit by anger
and ignorance
or and at
any given chance
Only clouds could be this dramatic
ever changing
intertwining
filling the sky
with art
or threat
only clouds
could be
this dramatic
but you’ve seen
nothing yet
Photo by moi
Waiting to be seated
Photo by yours truly
Indignities
life
is a series
of indignities
and I have tried
to embrace them all
When I put my arms around you
when I put
my arms
around you
everything
falls into place
like pieces
of a puzzle
our bodies
become one
of grace…
I admire satire
I admire satire
but I prefer wit
just a bit
My Groucho moment
Come to the dark side with me
come
to the dark side
with me
come
and have a coffee
with me
Tenacious tomatoes
Just chill
A toilet door handle
touched
by germs
urine
and fragments
of sperms
it confirms
it’s handled
by hands
that have been places
leaving traces
of whatnots
and whoknows
perhaps gross
live bacteria
on your hand
before you dine
in the cafeteria
I don’t know much
I don’t know much
about much
but I know a bit
about something
In the right direction
it’s best
to travel north
if things
start going south
Silent Sunday
My Groucho moment
Not everyone has to like you
not everyone has to like you
for to be oneself is true
in a world of varied view
radiate your own hue
don’t seek approval
from the crowd
embrace your light
and be proud
not everyone has to like you
for in being true to you
you’ll find peace in the residue
of opinions left askew
All will be ok
I shall wipe
the tears
of your cheeks
and I shall hold you
in my arms
to comfort you
and say
all will be ok
A slimy gathering of slugs
love is in the air
on the stones
We are programmed
subconsciously
inevitably
forcefully
undeniably
regrettably
we are programmed
from birth
weighed down by DNA
we have no say
to my dismay
April Fewl
April Fewl
was a prankster
who enjoyed
pulling legs
thinking it was cool
but came up short
when she met
her amputated man
who left her clueless
what to do
when he said:
You should’ve worn
your spectacles
before I married you…
Baby bunny
new to life
fearless
yet frail
waggling
it’s tiny tail
freshly furred
brown ha(i)re(d)
and slightly scared
a baby bunny hops
on my grass
mixed with weeds
en masse
as birds sing
and bugs bug
the bunny
freezes
whilst an ugly orange cat
goes into stalking mode
I have to break up the party…
My Groucho moment
Witty Words 