Month: March 2021

Saturday today,
and I’m up and out shopping,
and back for breakfast.

Vaccine day today,
and I had the jab today,
so what’s next I ask.

A monster’s just come,
she terrorises everything,
and will unpack all.

i swirl all the way,
dizzy I am feeling it,
until the bottom.

The alphabet’s there,
every letter standing proud,
in a group like words.

Though they do not speak,
they can say alot really,
with the right guidance.

I didn’t sleep well,
for I was greatly disturbed,
by a small monster.

Eventually I slept,
and woke refreshed at seven,
to hear the alarm.

The ligth flooded in,
as the sun split the curtains,
it’s rays dazzling me.

I had some breakfast,
my fast was just one short night,
but needed breaking.

Work was waiting there,
on my laptop, begging me,
to log in and start.

Well it’s over now,
and I’m glad it is, you know,
weekend and all that.

The weather was great,
little birds sang joyfully,
and daffoldils bloomed

It could be Thor’s day,
for it follows Odin’s day,
before Freyer’s day.

Norse mythology,
how did it so embedded,
into our culture.

A real Viking thing,
attack and assimulate,
and go un-noticed.

Those horn clad helmets,
and those thick seal fur jackets,
and a sword and shield.

Well good luck to them,
and all their kind that follow,
most walking unknown.

I found the old notes,
and knew I had messed up bad,
it’s worse ’cause I know.

Yes, the bins went out,
they didn’t get it at all,
they just stood waiting.

The sunset later,
then it did last evening ,
and will do again.

The spring is coming,
you can hear its boing, boing, boing,
echoing along.

All the bird love it,
they sing for joy of it’s warmth,
and it’s lighter days.

Well I’ll keep writing,
more and more rubbih like this,
without a real plan.

The rain kept falling,
even once it stopped it fell,
drip after drip, drip.

The weather is nice,
good for ducks and those fellows,
yes, that pair of swans.

The fence is not straight,
they say it’s a little bent ,
and tends the wrong way.

The newpaper pile,
got down to it’s last paper,
not much of a pile.

They say it’s Chews day,
I chose to chew on Tuesday,
some pink bubble gum.

I admit I’m wrong,
’cause I could not name that song,
with a single note.

It never is good,
to feel like squashed tomatoes,
in a real ketchup.

The salads gone off,
with rabbits like an old friend,
eaten not beaten.

The weather is tame,
mild as a grizzly bear cub,
without it’s mother.

The telegraph pole died,
it stood so still like marble,
not saying a thing.

It’s original,
one of a kind like a ball,
that’s just kicked around.

Well the pen is dry,
and the well is dry as well,
and it felt like ‘ell.

Do not applaud this,
unless, like, me, you’re alone,
then scream it out loud.

Maybe I’ll hear you,
or maybe you will hear me,
unless we’re screaming.

I’m feeling asleep,
it is easy just like pie,
tasty when it’s hot.

Nonsense everywhere,
laiy it out like newspaper,
that’s just blown away.

Don’t try to catch it,
let it fly like so many,
unfinished poems

I really don’t care,
if these poem as artwork,
are ever well known.

It’s raining outsdie,
and rain falls like silver streaks,
in the cars head lights.

I’m drinking coffee,
and it’s as black as the night,
and held in a mug.

I am thinking slpw,
and I’m also thinking fast,
it’s so confusing.

I feel the day’s gone,
the sun shone as bright as day,
and then went away.

And the rains did come,
cold and wet like winter chills,
that run you inside.

The evening is here,
and dull like distant thunder,
calls the morrow on.

Tempations may come,
sin like as a promise lost,
and dragging regret.

Best to stay away,
from the tempters path that’s wide,
and not easly missed.

The day is so long,
it comes and so soon it’s gone,
bidding me farewell.

It’s a windy day,
maybe something I’ve eaten,
so keep your distance.

No, a windy day.
the clouds rush across the sky,
letting the sun shine.

I boughht a few shelves,
small and neat to put things on,
and get shown off well.

Some small model cars,
and some carvings from Egypt,
and some little ducks.

Yesterday was hard,
it’s left me so exhausted,
what a week it’s been.

I’ve started painting,
a simple box with some trees,
on a small landscape.

It relaxes me
just some old watercolours,
found in an old box.

It’s started something,
and has got me thinking big,
why not, let me dream.

The day’s just ended,
it left in me a hollow,
and empty feeling.

It’s Friday evening,
the weekend is close behind,
and two days of rest.

The tiredness got me,
around eleven o’clock,
I waded away.

The feeling’s intense,
and it is hard to explain,
to feel so awful.

Shopping tomorrow,
get the weekly shopping done,
and stock up with stuff.

I tried to watch films,
but I couln’t concentrate,
so I just gave in.

I dragged myself up,
and then up the stairs to bed,
where I drifted off.

It has been a year,
so the news told me today,
I do remember.

Those dark early days,
with that fear of the unknown,
and hysteria.

I still went to work,
on near empty morning trains,
and back home again.

For one week like this,
until the eighteenth of March,
and then I stayed home.

I have been home since,
although we did go to Bath,
for a weeklong break.

The time has gone fast,
now it’s gone and behind us,
and the clock just ticks.

I’m feeling tired,
it is hard to concentrate,
or do anything.

Life does continue,
as it must and surely will,
the vaccine’s here now.