INK DROUGHT AND WORD THIRST
find me a bard
to write my story
find me a siren
to sing my song
find me a muse
to refill the well
banish ink drought and
word thirst
WASTER OF TIME
In steaming milk
the lumps
afloating
reminders of
days long gone
memories of
better times
of richness and beauty
across the land
Now spartan walls
in all directions
a crumbling floor
begreets my eyes
every morn
the broken arrow in
shoulder stuck
singing karaoke on
its own
Cupid – shooter –
waster of time
FADING FIRE
Not sure anymore
if I’ve ever been
on fire but
being burnt out now
I guess I
must have
been – once
A STRANGER’S HAND
I saw a stranger’s hand
reaching out
to give or to receive
I cannot say but
it was attached to
my arm
either way
I STILL DON’T KNOW
You said she knew
I fancied her
the Woman in Red
Miss Divine
all those years ago.
Maybe if I knew that
she knew I might
have known that
others knew too
and that
would have made
all the
difference
A DAY IN PARADISE
Would you part with gold
for a day in Paradise.
Don the leaves of Adam or Eve
follow the path to Shangri-La
betwixt the twin peaks.
Your dreams with vivid visions of
horizons and paradise lost
Xanadu is calling if
you open your screaming heart.
Would you part with gold
for a day in Paradise.
I say that you are already there
open your eyes
let go of the fear
the gold you seek
is everywhere.
I DON’T BUT STILL DO
I don’t speak Maths
but still I programme
miniature computers
till the night is
dawning
I don’t speak Music
but still sing in the shower
and dance the mambo
with a head full of
loudness
I don’t speak Poetry
but still I stack
word upon word to try
to convey my world
to you