Write poems, simply, on the run
and wish I had a loaded gun.
Since time is really of the essence
I can’t attend those forum lessons.
To those of you who wrote opinions
about my poems, and the minions
who love the daylight out of me
I do accept all flattery!
Yet time is short, thus please excuse
my seeming lazy and obtuse
neglect of those who took the time
it is not meant to be a crime.
I thank you all, please read some more
the stuff I send from distant shore.
Most of the rooms were lavishly appointedwith oriental rugs on all the floors and walls,and golden trinkets for few eyes to see.The smell of freshly roasted coffee from the kitchen,and many cooks in culinary mode,they stepped through solid portals now, with fourteen locks,it said GOD’S TREASURY and had electric doors.It was astonishing, this image of…
He is still full of tricksat a young seventy-sixHappy Birthday, my ancient friend Jerry.As your poems show all of us clearlyyou can stray into nomansland nearly,and the wisdom of ageis on every page.All your friends (and some foes) love you dearly.You could well be a mover and shaker,but not ever a phoney or faker.So please…
supervised the chauffeur in his taskof polishing my luxurious motorcarand talked via the satelliteto the skipper of the presidential yacht,a feeling of dead calm then overcomes,just as I realise that this world may well bea better place, and all becauseI made a difference in the lives of just a few.
Will you give me, God, the timeto catch up with my distant past?No more begging, no more stealing,independence day has come.She remembers all his rulings.all his cautions, turned to slaps,cruel beatings of their children,an irony he never saw.So she goes through others’ silveras she empties all the stores,a merry circus, she is in itand has…
of two Rockhampton bugs,that fell into the eye of the untamed shrewwho, not the kind that would accept defeatthen turned to her for one last time.One eye was crying now, it was all hugsand kisses and not really a crime.
Will they relent in their demanding heartbreak throbor would plain sanity whip up a healing gustof soft humanity and altruistic wallowis this reality, god-given, an excuseor fraying vanity with braids so very shallowthat even devils do consider it a ruse?Could we be masters then, of life’s intriguing planto sweep away the dust o f Cinderella’s…
