The last page was the halfway point
And now, apart from that last short ditty
We could almost say it is a new beginning
And how many more times have I begun again
How well the strain of originality is kept at bay, both
Along the illuminated way, and within the sunken shadows
The madness isn't though now present quite so often
Time, that great healer, softened many of the blows
Although, will it ever truly be over, will I ever know
If it is that the fields, and the trees
In the morning frost are feeling the chill
The sky, and the breeze thus redeeming me still
The thrill of the chase
And the basket case I became
No blame, no reframe, no endless shame
Always the same, or all ways to change
Simply to write; sit with words to rearrange
Place this before that, in a lover's lost exchange
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Thursday, 9 November 2017
Wednesday, 8 November 2017
72
There is a lot of tosh
Though I liked it back then
There is a lot of rhyme
O golly, o gosh
I will doff my cap, no slack
As and when
The love of lust stands in line
The lust of love hands it back
Though I liked it back then
There is a lot of rhyme
O golly, o gosh
I will doff my cap, no slack
As and when
The love of lust stands in line
The lust of love hands it back
Tuesday, 7 November 2017
71
Calf leather boots
Across the Humber Bridge
Smoking sweet cheroots
Up on Bluestone Ridge
A coffee, and a chocolate bar
O Monday how you tempt my bid
Riding in this sedan car
As a writer, lifting off the lid
In middle, or late age England
A long way from Inter-Milan
In designer outlet gear they stand
Looking neat; I have it in the can
Across the Humber Bridge
Smoking sweet cheroots
Up on Bluestone Ridge
A coffee, and a chocolate bar
O Monday how you tempt my bid
Riding in this sedan car
As a writer, lifting off the lid
In middle, or late age England
A long way from Inter-Milan
In designer outlet gear they stand
Looking neat; I have it in the can
Monday, 6 November 2017
70
Uncertain
As to where time alone might take me
I did not stay alone so very long
From behind the curtain
As if the love of my life forgave me
I show myself to stand square, and to be fairly strong
As to where time alone might take me
I did not stay alone so very long
From behind the curtain
As if the love of my life forgave me
I show myself to stand square, and to be fairly strong
Sunday, 5 November 2017
69
There is sun on the snow, back at my B&B
There is sun through the weeping willow, back at my B&B
There is peace in the trees, trees without leaves, back at my B&B
I vowed to steer away
And steer away
Is exactly what I've done
I did not go in search of longing
I did not go in search of loss
I did not go in search of yearning
I did not go in search of cost
Instead I found friendly faces
Who turned around
And asked may I help you
As they complemented me on my bracelet
There are good memories of this day, back at my B&B
There are ladders, and drains to mend, back at my B&B
There are owners, also known as friends, back at my B&B
There is sun through the weeping willow, back at my B&B
There is peace in the trees, trees without leaves, back at my B&B
I vowed to steer away
And steer away
Is exactly what I've done
I did not go in search of longing
I did not go in search of loss
I did not go in search of yearning
I did not go in search of cost
Instead I found friendly faces
Who turned around
And asked may I help you
As they complemented me on my bracelet
There are good memories of this day, back at my B&B
There are ladders, and drains to mend, back at my B&B
There are owners, also known as friends, back at my B&B
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