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Who just turned on my butt light?
Who’s sneaking up behind?
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Sir, that sticker in your window,
seems to offer quite a deal;
but I see now what you’re playing with and it surely can’t be real.
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Henry loved his sticky toffee,
treacle pudding, cream banoffee.
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Lazy days, crazy days;
lying in the sun days.
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It seemed so perfect when I hid,
then big sis came and shut the lid.
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A quiet place at last I’ve found
They’ve placed me 6ft under ground.
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Our future sifts though fingers;
clutching, but losing strength.
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Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
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Memories winding through my mind
of childhood days when words were kind.
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As winter lingers; colours drab,
ice fingers pick at frozen scab.
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Tread carefully; these gentle words enfold.
Once more deceived; the truth is rarely told.
by passim
25 lines, 8 comments,
on Apr 12 10:15 AM. Reward
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So proud; we watched as Connie neared
Olympic Torch held high.
by passim
21 lines, 10 comments,
on Apr 7 9:44 AM
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When asked why he’s looking so glum,
a young man replied to his chum:
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How still; it seems this silent snow can fall
as if she’s whispering to sleeping birds.
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Think of me as just the same;
I’ll be there when you call.
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“Paint a picture” my teacher said.
So I’ll paint my garden; the flowers are red.
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She loves me, she loves me not;
how is this going to end?
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Oh calm; befuddled fidget in my mind.
Each word’s insistent scramble to be first
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Reflections in your eyes
decries the pain within my heart.
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The grass is at my elbow.
The weeds are to my knees.
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This scarlet lady cares not who receives
an invite; which belies her countenance.
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My head is bowed as ill winds chase black clouds.
I cling to life; yet life is cruel it seems.
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The good news is
Alarm clock didn’t wake me up too late.
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A perfect hiding place I’ve found;
where death can creep with silent tread.
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Come dance with me, my darling dear;
just like when we were young.
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I’m not feeling myself today;
I’m really not sure why.
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Cocooned in meditation, my eager sail unfurls.
My ocean’s spraying beads, like champagne pearls
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He looked at me today as he walked by.
A gentle look; a most beguiling eye.
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Vesuvius by Turner
Vesuvius, how Pompeii would malign;
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How can I kiss a skin as fair as this?
a perfect peach not plucked yet from the bough.
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When was that final day, when dreams were wrapped in sulphured smoke
and Jack stoked up the boiler with his final spade of coke?
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To follow in the footsteps of the Bard
and hear words seeping forth from Avon’s veins,
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A poem of similar form to 'The Walrus and The Carpenter' by Lewis Caroll.
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Will I stand tall when faced with death’s abyss;
when standing at the edge of this dear world?
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To follow in the footsteps of the Bard
and hear words seeping forth from Avon’s veins,
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