October 7, 2012

 

 

This ‘will she, won’t she’

game is over.

She’s waltzed out of town

doing the Bosa Nova.

 

 

 

 

The cost of boastful carelessness

The price of a secret exposed

The consequential holy mess

that only bravado knows.

 

 

 

 

 

Believe in a fantasist at your peril

Be swayed into enticing false hope.

But be sure when it all goes tups up,

alone, you will have to cope.

 

 

 

October 3, 2012

 

 

Long after the ravers have raved,

and frolicked and misbehaved,

and left their presence deeply engraved,

the field lies abandoned, alone and afraid.

 

 

 

 

Did you know Pythagoras who lived

down the lane from Cornelius?

I believe you knew Tarquin too.

Well, they popped in today for a brew.

 

 

 

 

Way back when Adam was a lad,

if you had six pence you weren’t half

glad, and oh what joy did a shilling

bring, whilst half a crown, meant

that you were king.

 

 

 

 

 

Like a suspect without an alibi,

to bail, he could wave goodbye.

Like a thief caught out red handed,

in hot fat he would fry.

 

 

October 2, 2012

 

 

At the forefront of ones memory

are times of sheer exhilaration and

times of harrowing pain.

The flotsum and jetsum in the middle,

like a sponge, soaks up the mundane.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t you just hate imperfection

An unfinished job lingering on.

A niggling fault that comes to light,

long after the workmen have gone.

 

Don’t you just hate imbalance

revealed by a spirit level out of line.

To other people it looks precise,

but to you, it’s anything but fine.

 

 

 

He took her to the Elephant Park,

where they saw piles of fresh steaming dung.

But after hours not sighting an animal,

an unnerving feeling, in the atmosphere, hung!

 

« Older Posts — Newer Posts »