Category: Just for the moment

Children out playing;
the breeze blows through open doors,
with sounds of laughter.

We’re playing outside,
watching for the ice cream van,
and to get some rest.

I’ve fed my notebook;
the pages rejoice, replete,
well fed and happy.

Trying to improve,
and finish the little things,
often left undone.

What more san I say?
And I pause to think a while,
then it starts to flow,

Words on the keyboard,
really don’t exist and that’s strange,
was it planned like that?

Sometimes I just sit,
and drink my coffee, don’t think,
watching it pass by.

Things I like to do,
at any time of the day,
like play my guitar.

Do not go looking,
for new opportunities,
if one’s in your hand.

Do not be afraid,
of those silly ideas,
keeping it playful.

What a tradition,
fish and chips Friday evening,
with some mayonnaise.

I’m all caught up now,
the pages rejoice replete,
well fed and happy.

The pen flows flawless,
and runs out to meet the words,
as they quickly form.

Morning reflections,
on those things that come to mind,
over a coffee.

Time can work for you,
but it likes to slip away,
too soon in the day.

My poor intentions,
fall away like autumn leaves,
but spring back often.

Some people can talk,
but they do not hear themselves,
and maybe they should.

Let go of what’s gone,
be grateful for what you have,
and then look forward.

Thirty eight MPs,
from the Govt since yesterday,
have just seen the light.

What a day it was,
as forty of them resigned,
and that was the news.

A newsworthy feast,
and one by one they toppled,
to cause him to fall.

The figure stands still,
and will wait for direction,
and the captured pose.

How to be happy,
live your life inside out,
and not outside in.

I’m writing a book,
but first must visualise it,
and maybe draw it.

Don’t seek approval,
for the things you say or write,
simply let it flow.

Some plain old paper,
found by a pen, and wrote on,
outlining a plan.

I keep on writing,
it is like mining for gold,
without the backache.

And like a last chance,
I grab it and hold it close,
and run for touchdown.

I’m making it up,
not one is a lie but still,
all fabricated.

I’m taking my time,
and writing this real slowly.
but you couldn’t tell.

Penny for your thoughts
that’s what they used to say now,
but they never paid.

Down memory lane,
and looking at the records,
that played long ago.

White clouds drifting by,
in the blue and morning sky,
that hold hints of rain.

Saturday morning,
has a sweet calm early time,
where my thoughts can play.

There are better songs,
but we hold to those we know,
for those special words.

It’s finally built,
a home gym for all seasons,
except, perhaps, now.

That pronoun nonsense,
I’m choosing, it, this and that,
and it writes haiku.

I’m two in the queue,
and still holding on the line;
I am number two.

I am killing time,
it has had it in for me,
and enough’s enough.

I see reflections,
of myself in my coffee,
but I look younger.

People sit around,
some watch, some eat, and some wait,
I’m doing all three.

Birds fly over head,
as the sun breaks through the clouds,
and their shadows fall.

That first coffee sip,
is not much, but packs much taste,
meaning I’m awake.