Home
ABOUT US
Recent Posts
- Out Of Darkness
- Colour my World
- Assessment
- A Tribute to Frank Ifield by Harriet Blackbury
- Butterflies
- A Tribute To Richard Tandy ( Electric Light Orchestra) by Harriet Blackbury
- A Tribute To Duane Eddy (Duane Eddy & The Rebels) by Harriet Blackbury
- A Tribute To Michael Pinder (The Moody Blues) by Harriet Blackbury
- The Chair Affair
- A Tribute To Steve Harley by Harriet Blackbury
Recent Comments
- Pitch Perfect on
- Pitch Perfect on
- Making A Difference on
- Loose Ends. on
- Harriet’s poem live on LDOK.net on
Categories
- Animals (74)
- Family Life (285)
- Friendship and Trust (128)
- General information (3)
- Hope and Encouragement (170)
- Irony / Inevitability (139)
- Justice / Revenge (30)
- Laughter & Tears (32)
- Life/Living (197)
- Music (329)
- Nature (2)
- Nonsensical Madness (186)
- Obituary / Memorial (61)
- Radio (133)
- Reviews (7)
- Romance (220)
- Sport (144)
- Sunday Poems (15)
POEM ARCHIVE
ONLINE SERVICES
BOOKS
Contact Us
Useful Links
August 31, 2016
To me it was so obvious,
too obvious maybe.
Long sightedness no obstacle,
but my nose too near to me.
To me it was so unsettling,
too unsettling maybe.
They’d urge and scout around it,
my antennae up, so I would flee.
To me it was so natural,
too natural maybe.
No value could I put upon it,
my Achilles heal – giving for free.
To me it was so unreal,
too unreal maybe.
Something never to get over,
that shipwreck lost at sea.
To me it was so reminiscent.
too reminiscent maybe.
The past I had moved on from,
let’s not go there, fiddle-de-dee.
To me it was so ‘old hat’,
too ‘old hat’ maybe.
Talk of the past depressing,
though still ingrained in me.
To me it was so powerful,
too powerful maybe.
It overtook my senses,
setting my spirit free.
To me it was so shocking,
too shocking maybe.
No cattle prod ever needed,
as many would agree.
To me it was so meaningless,
too meaningless maybe.
Hell bent on self destruction,
a chink of nuttiness, you see.
To me it was so explosive,
too explosive maybe.
But fireworks never started,
whilst I held tight the key.
To me it was so long ago,
too long ago maybe.
How convenient when dementia,
takes a hold of me.
To me it was so menacing,
too menacing maybe.
No fruit to bear was visible,
on that forgotten tree.
To me it was so indigestible,
too indigestible maybe.
Some called it – I B S,
poo-poohed of course by me.
To me it was so ongoing,
too ongoing maybe.
I knew I should have left alone,
that bread and old French brie.
To me it was so comforting,
too comforting maybe.
An armour plated outer shell,
in ‘tortoise’ mode found me.
To me it was so sensitive,
too sensitive maybe.
‘You’re thinking off the scale’,
with arms up, they would plea.
To me it was so indulgent,
too indulgent maybe.
All my imaginary friends,
around since I was three.
To me it was so normal,
too normal maybe.
This ‘only child’ syndrome,
encouraging a life of fantasy.
To me it was so tempting,
too tempting maybe.
The humanitarian inside,
daring me to just break free.
To me it was so heartbreaking,
too heartbreaking maybe.
The drawbridge firmly shut,
for all eternity.
No Comments »
No comments yet.
RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL
Leave a comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.