Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Category: poetry
In a yellow wood
Look, guys, after some 1400 of the buggers I’m all haiku’d out. Anyway, whatever tiny audience there was for anonymous haiku has evaporated faster than the morning fog is dissipating outside my window. Few readers, few followers, and close to zero comments.
So, have to find some new form of expression to amuse myself, my cancer, my anxiety shroud, and the occasional visitor from the outside world who stumbles across this anonymous and self-effacing blog. Watch this space.
Well, you know, if you can be bothered.
Bravo! Bravo!
If all the world’s a
stage and I a player when
does the applause start?
Now, where did I leave…?
Scatterbrained people
may find it impossible
to collect their wits
Via one of many theocracies
America from
first democracy on to
last autocracy
And the one after that
What doesn’t kill me
simply makes way for the next
thing which will kill me
Advance warning
Humming railway tracks
warn danger coming. Life needs
similar system
Not to mention raptors
Currawongs, Crows and
Butcher Birds: hard going for
small birds around here.
Nor quite a few other countries
Neither Australians nor Americans can any longer pretend to be puzzled about how the Nazis came to power in Germany, nor how they came to carry out Hitler’s program.
Advice
You can’t decide what
others could or should do; but
just what you can do
