Heath Gunn

The cool and chilling winter winds,
that whistle round my mind.
Are oh so unforgiving,
as my thoughts start to unwind.
...

A child is born into this world,
it's body bloodied, features knurled.
Unclothed, yet warm, he's wrapped in love,
from parents praying to God above.
...

4 bombs explode, inside Iraq,
39 are dead.
Planted by extremists,
is what the papers said.
...

A baby born to a teenage mum,
a fashion accesory like a ring on her thumb.
She thinks it's cool, and he's so sweet.
with his tiny pink fingers, and his perfect little feet.
...

A parents fear, their worst nightmare.
Is sitting alone, in a Police-room chair.
Being interviewed by P.C Plod,
About the child you've fed and shod.
...

Classic poets have much in common,
except they're often dead.
Like the amazing lyrical, spontaneous ways,
thoughts dance around their heads.
...

All hark the bell that tolls so clear,
the King of pop is dead.
His image flashed on evening news,
a heart-attack they said.
...

Oh how we try to figure out,
this struggle to be read.
As we sit and scribble down,
the thoughts from out' our heads.
...

A flightless bird, a prisoner,
a runner with no shoes.
A hundred thousand miles to walk,
on feet all burned and bruised.
...

He's off to fight a war,
we'll see it on T.V.
He's off to fight a war,
him, not you or me.
...

Wide awake yet unaware,
Of all that lies around,
Stumble fall and tumble,
And lie there on the ground.
...

Children play in mid-day sun,
Thugs conspire to trade drugs and guns.
Innocence borne from lack of knowing,
Evil spreads and keeps on growing.
...

Events throughout our history,
and things that move us deep.
Are the monumental disasters,
the ones that make us weep.
...

For fifty and one hundred years,
The oaks shadow has been cast.
Across a forest wide, and dressed in green.
...

I stand here looking from the bridge,
the water flows below.
I'm contemplating life and death,
something you'd never know.
...

I'm here again and pondering,
venting through my pen.
Inside my head is jumbled,
and my world is crashing in.
...

As rain lashed shores lay bleak and bare
the sea roars on and on.
A mighty wave rolls over-land
and fragile lives are gone.
...

Alone i sit, isolated,
staring at the wall.
Yet i'm sure that if it had a voice
it would tell me all.
...

When children weep, or babies cry.
Do we have the sense, to question why?
Why their minds so young and fresh,
Can work themselves into such a mess?
...

Rapid deterioration and the hurling round of words,
the feelings of frustration to the fore.
Stunted conversation, chirping back and forth like birds,
dragging insults up, right from the floor.
...