New Beginnings (and Old Endings)

To have a new beginning,

it goes without saying,

that there must have been an old ending;

or, depending on how you look at things:

when one door closes,

Moses supposes his toeses are roses;

then, another door opens,

and Moses supposes

nothing of the sort.


And, if you thought

that ‘that’ was the end

of the poem, my friend,

you’d be wrong;

it goes on and on,

going along

at a rate of knots –

not that the cat that sat upon the mat

would agree with it doing that.


Anyway, a new stanza, or verse,

only goes to prove

that worse

is yet to come –

as all of these random thoughts and words

will leave you uncomfortably numb;

as numb as a dumb waiter

seeking ‘some’ meaning to its life.

Think on this:

Strife, is no stranger

to a danger arranger –

or a light-bulb changer –

and, how many light-bulb moments does it take

to change a poet?

A question that really must have an answer,

and yet, no-one, will know it.


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