Try These easily accessible poems ...
Living Room
In gem-stoned carnival,
a newborn baby cries
red in transportable cradle
his mother, singing the blues
in soft hues, tears for naught,
she aught to pull herself
together, scrambling over foam filled
cushions her toddler clambers, tips
the murky stench of springtime daffodils
over self
and sofa, now patterned with grey wet
patches, a slice of swirling jam roll
squashed between the cushions, marking
the place where the mouse dared to go,
seeing its tail, leaving its trail
rejecting
impromptu clientele nipping in
for a quick manicure
before the school run, pushed past
by puppy skidding in from the rain
on lacquered wood floors
jumping up with brown muddy paws
at white polished doors,
sniffs out the crumby jam swirls
licks them up, curls up
on the chair just as
eliminated toys make way
for dinner, beef and two veg served
on a tray; baby soft babbling
replaced with football chanting and
the murmuring of a mother’s milk
with the swish of beer,
all sleeping now,
the news ends with a flash.
** ** ** **
Fish Strike
The strike of a great
white shark lasts forty seconds
and people say there
are plenty more fish in the sea.
Lets hope they’re not all sharks.
Beach Hut
Morning sun glints
on the neck of a broken bottle,
propped in stone dead silence
as the swell of a far-flung sea
bloats and soars,
buffing pebbles smooth as glass.
Toddlers slap golden sandcastles,
pushchairs stroll by roller blade tricks,
dogs chasing sticks,
cyclists ankle ready, steady
for kiosk tea, [now The Beach Latte],
ice-cream cones, raspberry sauce, flake,
cherry cake on a chipped plate
orange tea in polystyrene.
Yellowing beach huts burst
with bikes and clattering,
deck chairs and nattering,
hot dogs on burners, sizzling,
tomato sauce splattering,
Jaimie, Jodie, Stacey
squabbling.
On the pier, graffiti’d now,
darts and stale beer,
after-mouths of tobacco,
discos blasting ears,
fish and chips greasing decks
until the swell of a far-flung sea
buffs tomorrow’s pavement
into a broken glass bottle.
Slay that Dragon
So many dragons, leaping flames
filling your cheeks with scarlet,
tongue tips lashing like a rope
on a film too cruel to watch,
charring your memory forever.
Slay that dragon, cut out its tongue,
stop its outburst its constant song
maligning your mind, messing
with your attention span, fouling up
your incentive plan.
And when the dragon is slayed,
from the depths of humanity, another
breathes the hair on your neck
becks, calls, makes you hot under
the collar forget the dollar
the pound the yen, slay that dragon
who calls and calls again.
The dragon is dead in the middle of the night
nothing will resume its fire, its bite,
you dream of a dragon-free day,
impolite out of sight dragons,
breathing down someone else’s neck.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Peeling Onions
Peeling onions makes me cry
I think of you
Layer after layer
Lie after lie
Wet
Stinging
Acid
Tears
Huge
Heart felt drops.
Music
He's my music,
my listener
and more
my lover
my sunny days
pulling the strings
to my heart,
my soulmate
right from the start.
