A positive
covid test
sets you on
a journey
jumping out
of a plane
wondering
whether your
parachute
will open
before you
hit the ground
Category: poetry
Play misty
Sometimes,
early on
a misty morning,
the tangled threads
of our lives
seem to form
a pattern.
But the Sun
soon puts a
stop to that
wishful thinking.
Morning has broken
Few things more pleasant,
in old age or young,
than sitting on a hill,
on a clear, almost frosty
morning, mist filling the
valleys, and listening
to a butcher bird
song notes
cascading through
the silent air,
while your dog sits,
quietly, beside you.
Everyone except
YouTube has
revealed
what a huge
number of
very strange
people there
are in the
universe
Decline and Fall
Seeing myself
in the mirror
before and then
after covid
is like seeing
the picture of
Dorian Gray
ageing in just
four days instead
of eighteen years
Soul empty
Humans have
indulged
themselves in
wishful thoughts
about death
for fifty
thousand years.
Way past time
we stopped.
Snakes alive
If you make
a garden
snake proof, then,
when a snake
does get in
it can’t get
out again.
If you make
your brain to
resist mad
ideas,
then when the
madness does
get in, it
will stay there
forever.
Rescue me
I rescue the
Daddy-Long-Leg
spiders that hide
in the corners
of my shower.
Delicately,
so carefully,
their fragile legs
easily break.
I rescue the
memories in
my mind, also
fragile, very
breakable,
delicately,
so carefully,
exposing them
to light of day.
But yesterday’s gone
In some parallel
universe my
university
career began
sixty years ago.
In the real world
it was only just
the day before
yesterday.
Break a leg
In olden days,
when injured,
it was from sport,
or bicycles,
or wrestling rams,
or climbing trees;
nowadays just
turning over
in bed will do.
nomdeplume 