Month: July 2022

I’m treasure hunting,
in my office, it is here,
something that I lost.

Notebooks say pick me,
‘I have stories and poems,
things you’ve forgotten’.

Butterflies fly by,
quickly looking for that thing,
on the summer breeze.

So quickly darting,
back and forth then it hovers,
just for a moment.

I’m counting the times,
I have walked a long the beach,
now the sands of time.

Watching some old films,
those that I have seen before,
but still make me laugh.

Trying to stay up,
and finish another page,
or maybe a few.

I love finding words,
that sound right, and appear right,
something I can spell.

I need my music,
brings me so much peace and joy,
such simple pleasures.

Finally caught up,
but I found myself asleep;
was it all a dream?

Eating some muesli,
and drinking a black coffee;
some time by myself.

A sense of sadness,
is hanging on me today,
but I don’t know why.

I am better now,
two coffees and four teas on,
so I need the loo.

Be true and be wild,
be happy, don’t get beguiled,
by unhelpful thoughts.

Trying to stay up,
and finish another page,
or maybe a few.

I’m busy working,
on this and that and other,
which is drinking tea.

I am writing books,
notebooks of course but there’s more,
I’m writing a book.

We are moving now,
it took some time, but we’re off,
and no stopping us.

Crowds are crowding in,
and in no time, a full train,
with just standing room.

The writing’s scrawling,
with hurried scribbled verses,
much larger than life.

The words creep along,
not quite a book or a song,
slowly getting there.

Sometimes in the night,
there will come an urge to write,
that I will seize on.

Concentration lost,
I look about for something,
where I can find it.

Orange blossom tree,
with its sweet fragrant petals;
send its scent to me.

The first rain drops fall,
dotting the ground with purpose,
until it’s all wet.

The rain didn’t last,
and the ground’s already dry,
and plant’s are gasping.

I am now struggling,
With heavy eyelids that just close,
and can’t be opened.

Central Line tube seats,
have collapsed into bowl shapes,
So uncomfortable.

The day is cloudy,
with a luminous cover,
that could rain or shine.

The lines are daunting,
rigid and constraining me,
and the words I write.

The girl on the tube,
a passenger like the rest,
is just outstanding.

But does she know it,
nonchalantly sitting there,
with mobile in hand?

The week’s beckoning,
will an early morning call,
and a train journey.

I’m feeling dizzy,
with the ideas in my head,
that keep whirling round.

Running for the train,
and found it had gone on time,
and left me waiting.

It’s time to thank you;
I appreciate each follow,
thank you very much.

I’m doing a course,
on site management they say,
which I need at home.

The sun shines warmly,
I can feel its gentle touch,
through the open door.

I have lost my cheese,
I thought for a while, then looked,
it was all around.

Ice cream in the park,
with the bright sun blazing down,
running for the shade.

A small wisp of smoke,
rises from the notebooks pages,
in satisfaction.

Guitars gently weep,
and the books are telling tales,
and it’s fun here now.

Holiday is booked,
for just a week in August,
to simply stay home.

I’m writing sublime,,
with scribbled bits, line by line.
in my notebook fine.

Water colours run,
and catch the words smudging them,
and it has something.

I am so impressed
and impacted by the ad,
from ‘save the children’.

The weekend is here,
with hopes for relaxing times,
and never to bes

With concentration,
he glared at the pin hole eye,
and tried to thread it.

I hear kitchen sounds,
pots and pans and cardboard shut,
and spoons rattlling.