Month: September 2021

I wish I could fly,
I would soar into the sky,
and look down on earth.

I know I can’t fly,
and I’m told it’s escaping,
from reality.

I do make mistakes,
and make remakes, or just steaks,
beaten nice and thin.

I do not shoot ducks,
or geese or things that might fly,
or even ground things.

The cold’s seeping in,
and like a strange chilling hand,
grabs at your insides.

The shadows like cold,
it makes them hard and life less,
places to avoid.

The old wood cutter,
said the trees could talk, he did,
and then he’d listen.

The wind through the trees,
blows without stopping or they’re,
caught in outreached twigs.

The ground caught the cold,
and holds it fast and locked in,
dead, but it will rise.

They rattled its cage,
and poked it was sticks and said,
‘wake up, and start the day,’

Tuesday glared at them,
and turned over defiant,
but soon dawn woke it.

It wasn’t easy,
the autumn skies never lie,
it’s getting colder.

The clouds gathered round,
and made promises of rain,
that finally did come.

Tuesday went to bed,
and closed its eyes so weary,
to sleep for six days.

The rain pools did come,
and the car wheels splashed through them,
wetting the pavements.

Just waiting on time,
it slows like a movie scene,
caught in slow motion.

The second are dragged in,
and each screaming for mercy,
before they tick on.

The minutes look on,
and watch a few in pity,
and like seconds go.

The hours stand strong
resisting the urge to gloat,
as the minutes pass.

The day hesitates,
time is gone and like the wind,
all too easily.

A fact, twelve plus one,
is a sure anagram for,
eleven plus two.

I do like numbers,
those prime, odds and even ones,
and the lucky ones,

A world set apart,
tends to be a personal one,
that we can create.

Here we go again,
and another week again,
with a cold Monday,

Those fuel shortages,
are hitting now, that’s for sure,
despite assurances.

One little monster,
is all you will ever need,
and I have got mine.

Those monster footprints,
are stomping all over me,
and it really hurts.

Letting music flow,
in and out of mental cracks,
that close with such peace.

With stinky fingers,
make me go poohy and sneeze,
small sticky digits.

Down the crazy stream,
I could not find the river,
but found Nick’s café.

I caught the blue train,
places never been before,
‘Wait, did you hear that?”

what is my email,
work it out and I’ll reply,
then some things will change.

Cryptic messages,
seem to play a little game,
toying with my mind.

I’m still spinning here,
thinking about stopping soon,
and taking a bus.

I’m running dizzy,
not straight at all, somewhat bend,
feeling very queer.

That doesn’t sound right,
just email me please, let’s meet,
for some good old fun.

The work was quiet,
I tested them all with mail,
but none took the bait.

An old friend said hi,
dropped me an email last week
saying let’s meet up.

It is good to talk,
and stay in touch with a friend;
I don’t have many.

Stephen King said hi,
on another note, last week,
he has been walking.

I’m plucking the strings,
like I would pluck a chicken,
it sounds just awful.

I dreamt a strange dream,
where the large candles flickered,
chasing the shadows.

Travel to London,
see none of the sights, so what,
I ‘m stuck on the tube.

Thanks for the flowers,
I put them in a bucket,
there were so many.

Oh, that dark wet night,
I was meaning to tell you,
as I got a fright.

Never turn your back,
on a fire breathing dragon,
and hope to escape.

I have a real tale,
not as long as a dragons,
but it is scaly.