Monday, April 21, 2014

day 21

I'm a little behind today,
Words have all gone astray,
Inspiration won't come
I'm sitting here feeling dumb
A poem a day is far too much
I promise soon, to be in touch.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I’m happy with my body.

I hate  pizza pie.

I drive a red Camaro.

Can’t wait until I die.


I don’t like birds and sunshine.

I really hate good books.

I don’t crave morning coffee.

Can’t complain about my looks.


Dew worms make me queasy.

This poem was very easy,

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

day 15

It is eleven thirty-seven,
Twenty-three minutes left to go
The day is almost over,
And I have no poetry to show.

Monday, April 14, 2014

14.To Charlie

my lame attempt at a sonnet -

Charlie you should be sleeping at this hour
Not barking like a fool at nothing much
While sitting beside the blue rabbit hutch
With too much stubborn canine will power.
The spray bottle aimed for your nightly shower
You howl, a lovely added noisy touch
Until your throat we really want to clutch
We yell at you and you growl and cower.
Please come inside you silly little fool
Have a drink and also tasty kibble
Take a treat, you like the crunchy nibble
I kiss your nose and scratch your velvet ear
And I rub your naked tum, I shant be cruel
Care for you,  loving friend, my pal, my dear.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

day 12


Like sand tossed across glass
wind drives rain against the windshield.
Constable Sullivan needs a drink
sucks in, breath interrupts silence,
downs a beer, one gulp, half gone.
Tastes like more, much more.

Afternoon shift ends,
a shoelace breaks,
Life’s meaning lost for now.
Blood pulses, temples throb
He flicks on favourite country music station
Base pounds in time with heartbeat
Fills his head too full
Of nothing permanent.

Night fixes everything.
Reason saves his sanity
Or maybe robs him of it.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Remain unchanged
Unless tonight becomes the night
Everything changes.
Another beer beckons from the box.

Barney Fife from Mayberry
Didn’t drink beer alone at night
In his car,
Wouldn’t contemplate the obscene act
Big Jack considers now.
“Barney did you ever feel so low?
What would Andy say if he could see you now?
And you were him?”