Two to Tango!

August 31, 2018 at 8:18 pm (Poems) (, , , , , )

With grace we’ll be around next year

Sipping Cali Majito

We’ll put on woven hats of straw

And do the Boston Tango.

We made our lives up very well

I’m happy as a mango

Your sparkly eyes are quite a prize

They’re just like Marlon Brando’s.

I never wanted very much

I thought I’d won the lotto

When you came by and took my eye

My heart it was besotto

And our romance is one long dance

Beacause we have this motto:

Leave me alone and I’ll come home

Coz I know what I’ve gotto!

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Confidence

August 27, 2018 at 12:03 am (Poems) (, )

Funny how years mute inadequacy,
While friends of faith hang by
despite carnage, laying careful stepping stones
across the molars of soul’s ineptitude.

Even at this late hour,
when the moon tips its liquid light on me, I howl,
Baring my wisdom, teeth rattling,
And your red rimmed eyes
turn wolfish and hunt me down.

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Footsteps

August 22, 2018 at 5:09 pm (Poems) (, , , , , )

How do I know where
you went away to that day?
But I imagine

a very thin line
between adjacent spaces –
We can almost touch.

Maybe we could walk
perpendicular pathways
and swap philosophies?

Our respective footsteps
on the dusty paths, a sign
We shared a little time.

Then, dressed in sparkles
perhaps you’ll up and choose to
smile and dance away?

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Internationals

August 13, 2018 at 6:22 pm (Poems) (, , )

We are all internationals
and students of time

We are all tiny earthlings:
This earth isn’t ‘mine’

We can all learn the lesson
from teachers of hate –

That their teaching is flawed
by the wars they create

We are all pawns of politics
and victims of words

But we’re big enough and bright enough
to know they’re absurd

We may live on an island
surrounded by sea

But we’re in this together
and do much better as ‘WE’.

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Harbour

August 10, 2018 at 1:51 pm (Poems) (, , , )

As torn driftwood, salt and sunbleached,
battered and storm beached,
Thrown onto broken coasts by waves
colossal and angry: a political itch.

Running from little to nothing,
stumbling strathed by gulls, across damp sand
surveyed by thin-lipped authority,
wrapped in red tape and labelled.

Far away, harbour-bound big ships bob,
Plotting strategic co-ordinates
Stowing no thought for those
vested interests they launch and cast adrift.

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