April 19, 2013

 

 

 

One cannot fail to be acutely affected,

sad news cuts through the heart like a spear.

One cannot fail to be knocked over sideways,

whilst wiping away a released held back tear.

One cannot fail to be instantly reminded,

that on earth, time is surely running out.

One cannot fail to feel ones mortality,

and wonder what life’s truly about.

One cannot fail to turn back the pages,

though, what’s there is still written in stone.

One cannot fail to be troubled by heartache, but

what’s done is done, now your life is your own.  

 

 

 

 

April 9, 2013

 

 

Let’s forgive and forget

and start anew,

and put behind us

what makes us feel blue.

 

Let’s look each other

once more in the eye,

without accusation or

further decry.

 

Let’s bond and have sex –

no better was there

when I came on the table,

with you in mid air!

 

Let’s at least try to recall

what we did back then

When you were young and virile,

with ink in your pen.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s clearly issues that

can never be overcome.

Old spats from the past,

stuck like gum covered

pavements, in the minds

of the unforgiving dumb.

 

 

 

 

After her death I took possession

of her diaries. To be honest, very

little detail was written in them,

but on the ninth of July she had put

‘I found something out today!’

Whatever it was, she took to her

grave as she didn’t elaborate on it,

and her entries came to an abrupt end.

One can only assume she had

discovered that she no longer

liked keeping a diary! 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t set her off on that train of thought

Her memory goes back several centuries.

Wrong doings against her cannot be erased

She’d have folks put in penitentiaries!

 

 

 

 

 

The torment felt since childhood,

they kept locked within their heart.

For to reveal it now would only

blow their world apart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s ‘forever’ when one is

finished anyway? It’s only the

blue horizon, and as far as the

eye can see.

Why worry about the future, when

we are all but dead leaves on a tree.

None of us being immortal, nor

ever reaching eternity free.

 

 

 

 

She always said that some

jiggery-pokery went on there,

and that things weren’t as

they appeared, and whenever

she had to go passed that place,

she felt a shiver as she neared.

 

 

 

 

Think hard until you find the answer

It’s there somewhere gathering dust.

Use it, or lose it forever

Don’t let the mind turn to rust.

 

 

 

April 3, 2013

 

 

T’is not to question why,

when vicious teeth, grind up

the evidence of mass deceit.

 

T’is not to wonder what that bin

contains, amongst shredded strips

where nonsense now remains?

 

T’is not to dwell on hell in

printed form. Scars papered

over never beat a storm.

 

T’is not to piece together

from the past, a love now lost,

that never was to last.

 

 

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