You can lose a penny, or a special letter. A bill for the gas, or your red setter. Even where you placed your car, or the dog you tied to a forgotten gate. But to lose your mind, now that is a sin. Even the small portion that makes you laugh and grin. Or how many sons and daughters you have, indeed if you have any at all. That is hard when only bits of life peep through the clouds, showing just what riches you might miss that you once knew. Describing purgatory or hell, I have just done. So a cup of tea is the order of the day cures all ails gran used to say. Shovelling 5 spoons of coffee into the cup, Ah! peace at last now that 60 years is gone and lost.
foot-note. This poem came about after reading George Macbeth’s poetry Laughter in Hell. He had motor-neuron disease which sadly he died from. My experimental poem was an imagined hell.
I love writing and reading poems, not so much the classics these days but knew fresh stuff I find that exciting. New styles and new ideas. Some people paint, or write books or do crafts to get the inside out, me I do poetry and read the inside of folk I love to write fun and nature poems the best though.
The wheels find, the track on my body, why do I shiver & tremble? The night gives me the depth, a grim reminder of realism. The consortium of thorns, the splinters float in my eyes. The dignified seizure, takes hold
Who knows the future? Secrets in the palm of jesting mind. Deep dwells the forgotten past, a reminder of untold losses. A life adorned with love, kindness, loyalty, and selflessness. Questions unanswerable pecking the essence of sanity Fate says the
Time well spent Years together Learning Growing As our time comes to an end I look back on past years I remember our happiest moments Before we move on Four years Of time And memories To be brought with me
Eerie the right and weird the atmosphere, Lightning flashes fearful faces, Giant trees cast sinister shadows, Danger lurks in the oddest of places, I stumbled on a stone and hit my head down, I suddenly realized that I had strayed
All you heartless bastards, what have you done? housing estates spat out for wasted generations; a life sentence of grey brick cells festering in long cemetery grass endless dead end roads lined by garbage dump back yards, playgrounds for fat