If I died now…
this very moment…
upon this very stage…
who would finishing reading out this poem?
Would you?
Or would you try to bring me back?
Give me the kiss of life?
Return me to the task in hand?
For, I have been told, that ‘nobody’ could read my poems
the way that I do.
And once I had gone…
would they be forever silent?
NB Funny how some poems just happen. This took about two minutes and very little editing. Bit bleak; but, it’s only a collection of words in a certain order put. Graeme:)
I said ‘Hello!’ to a random leaf;
but, the random leaf ignored me;
I said hello to another leaf –
with the outcome just the same;
I said ‘Hello!’ to many leaves;
but none of them replied –
so, eventually,
I gave up saying hello to random leaves –
it was silly,
and it bored me
Now, not everybody hates a Triffid (if you consider all life being valuable, you don’t have favourites – all are equal).
So, when (in self-defence, I hasten to add) I shot the top of a towering Triffid, I was mightily surprised when a young lady ran up to me clutching leaflets and a sad expression.
“You’ve killed it!” she cried. “What harm was it doing you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Why?”
All these exclamations and questions were not readily answerable to her satisfaction, and I was soon being issues with a notice under Regulation TR1, Section 5, Sub-Section 3, that stated I was formally warned that my actions had brought me in direct conflict with S.C.A.T. (Serious Crimes Against Triffids).
“Do you know S.C.A.T.?” she asked me.
“Without hesitation I broke into some Scat / Do-wop and braved her exasperated look for all of twenty seconds.
“Very recently.” I answered her question.
“What, about two minutes ago?”
“Yes.” I mumbled.
“We shall be watching you.” she warned, as she departed the scene.
I looked after her retreating form, then around at the Triffid trunk.
Shaking my head, I picked up my Triffid Gun, and headed back to my truck.
Passed by a show of many a paw,
the Paw Law – as it was known –
made it illegal to own
a bear for the pursuits
of boxing, dancing, baiting,
or waiting upon tables.
The Paw Law stated,
‘This law enables
the Bears of England
freedoms unheard of before.’
Sadly, humans had their own law
which did ensure that ‘all’ animals were unequal,
and some moreso than others.
It would be another thousand years
before animals of all ilks (including elks)
were even considered to be like
sisters or brothers.
Change is slow,
as the immutability of the inhumanity of humanity
is always saying, ‘No!’
Sometimes the little black dog
comes to visit;
I see it in my mind’s rear-view mirror,
catch a glimpse of it as I move through the day,
see it in my reflection.
My mood is down
and I am quieter,
assessing all around me,
withdrawing into my shell.
It may stay for a few days,
keep me company,
run after thrown sticks …
eventually … it will grow tired of my way,
and we shall part.
But, I’ll always have that memory stored
within my heart.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #BlackDog, #Depressaion, #Feelings, #MentalHealth, #poetry. #poem
See the church,
see the steeple;
see the chip shop,
see the people.
Whodve thought it?
The First National Apostrophe Shortage – in history.
Its here!
It couldve been averted,
maybe shouldve been;
but wasnt.
“Whatll happen now?”
Weve not got long to wait,
Shallnt be more than a while,
“Cant we do anything?”
No. Shouldve acted sooner;
stocked up, panic bought,
provided for the unknown future.
“Wouldve it made a difference
if we hadve done so?”
Dramatically (and grammatically) speaking,
No. Weve mucked it up –
thats what weve done.
“Oh.”
Thats the spirit.
I saw a Unicorn shoe, today,
along with another matching one,
a fine pair!
With Unicorn tails
and unicorn horns,
they were spotted in Looe,
Fore Street, to be precise,
Yes, I saw a pair of Unicorn Shoes, today –
they were magical,
and extremely nice.
I looked out upon the world,
and the world looked back at me;
I saw a seagull flying by
heading for the sea;
I called out ‘Gull, where be you to?”
he looked a while at me
and answered “I be off to Looe,
it’s time now for my tea.”
And I was happy at that.
(A prompt for a Saturday Stream-of-Consciousness write – which I restrict myself to doing in 10-minutes – this week the prompt was ‘if’).
—//—
If I manage
to write something
of worth here
I shall be mightily surprised.
And, before we get too far into this,
I am writing prose
in a poetry-looking format –
well, it has to be done.
Anyway,
if I ‘do’ manage
to create ‘War and Peace’
in the ten minutes
that I have allowed myself for this,
no one will be surprised.
Sorry, it should have read,
‘no one will be more surprised than me’,
but it didn’t – if you can follow that.
So, if a picture paints a large number of words
(In the vicinity of a thousand)
why can’t I paint?
If a rhetorical question
gains no answers,
why ask it in the first place?
If I knew all of the questions to some of the answers …
Ha! If!
No, seriously for a second –
why is it that E=MC squared?
Remember, you only have a second to answer that.
If you take too long
you lose a point.
If you answer with time to spare,
well, here is a chest
to pin a badge upon.
If this goes on too long
please let me know,
before I write copious amounts
of drivel
and waste everybody’s time.
Well, obviously, not ‘everybody’s’
that would be slightly over-stating
the dozen or so people
that irregularly read
(or claim to read)
what I do write.
If all (nearly) 8 billion people
read my words
(which they don’t)
and even one percent commented,
that would mean my taking
the rest of my life answering.
BTW ‘if’ is the centre part of ‘life’
that was one of those ‘Squirrel’ moments –
I get them from time to time.
Is it almost over?*
As if!
*the 10-minute alarm went off here – how appropriate. G:)
