Month: January 2022

January ends,
with blue skies and bright sunshine,
but a little cold.

So how’s it going,
not so dear, Borish Bon Bon?
You’ll cry if you want.

The weird stuff has gone,
it sunk into the pages,
of unread items.

I’ll scramble for it,
for that last cream egg on sale,
if it ever comes.

Okay it’s a fact,
music’s my greatest passion,
next to food and sleep.

Near to the months end,
and it feels like it’s just begun,
though it has been fine.

Sun light in the street,
was so bright it caught my eye,
as it lit the road.

I don’t feel the need,
to write any more for now,
so this is good night.

Sorry for the tales,
and sorry for the stories,
but that all I have.

I am setting goals
putting a post here and there,
with a net between.

A rare setting sun,
that came back to pose for me,
and I got it too.

I am reaching out,
just to say hello and that,
why not say hello.

This is it for now,
I wish I had more to say,
so we could talk more.

I’m going shopping,
see what’s there and take my share,
that I’ll have later.

The week is over,
it is one over week now,
’cause here’s the week end.

I’m keeping it light,
nothing heavy, on the fun side,
with some good music.

I play some ragtime,
on my acoustic guitar,
it is just for fun.

The coffee tastes great,
nice and hot and not too sweet,
and black like the night.

She takes for granted,
the talents she possesses.
and leave them behind.

I will remember
and I will never forget,
as I lay a stone.

The waters are deep,
and I am treading water,
but it feels so nice.

Can you see it now,
as he removes the white cup,
and showing nothing.

The lights all flickered,
as if they felt a shudder,
or an icy breeze.

He took the blue pen,
and wrote out three lines quickly,
as if it was done.

She piled up the stamps,
carefully and tenderly
building up columns.

I hope to succeed,
in writing, music and art,
until then it’s work.

I’m troubled at times,
by my own time wastefulness,
and its delaying.

Slip sliding away,
the things I need to finish,
but most of all time.

I am not frantic,
nor do I panic at all,
it is what it is.

I pick myself up
and dust myself down again,
and simply get on.

They want their chair back,
and I don’t blame them at all,
it’s comfortable.

I can spin around,
really quite fast if I want,
until it unscrews.

It has gone quiet,
the noise that went on before,
has all gone away.

The chatter remains,
a few chewed words discarded,
across the table.

What ever remains,
will stay, even if it’s lost,
or buried somewhere.

The carpet’s lazy,
it’s been laying there too long,
but nicely spread out.

The carpets music,
is rock and roll, but no rock,
and rolling’s boring.

It is thread bare,
in places we can’t speak of
so we cover up.

The weavers charming,
wove the fabric nicely tight,
with lovely patterns.

They say the rugs shrugged,
the mats got fat, carpets rolled,
and floors were a bore.

A sweet café meet.
somewhere in London somewhere,
where the coffee’s good.

Yes, I am paying,
do not trouble to offer,
you can leave a tip.

It has been busy,
with lots to do and to watch,
and playing some games.

The grey wind blown clouds,
gathered near my house today,
and they all just stayed.

Monday is creeping,
ever closer and soon will come,
in all its glory.

It feels different,
the atmosphere has lifted,
with sun and blue skies.

Situations come,
and with some wish decisions,
for that can work good.

I went for a walk,
to the lake to take photos,
but the light was gone.

I say the wrong things,
it comes out and can’t be stopped,
and some deep regret.

The well’s dark and deep,
and timber boards don’t hide it,
nor its loud echoes.

The music’s playing,
soothing me with bluesy songs.
that take me along.