A happy accident
Alone. Alone always alone
The warmth of love I’d never known.
...
I want to write real poetry
But I’m not sure how I should start
I need someone who can teach me
the basics of poetic art.
...
The hunger pangs I feel are real.
My stomachs growling to be fed,
This is no quiet mute appeal
refuses to be quieted.
...
Some choose to write by candlelight
and some compose straight on the screen.
Whichever way to you seems right,
that is the way it’s always been.
...
The water meadow by the stream
where I was wont to sit and dream.
Has disappeared, replaced by
much less pleasing to my eye.
...
When driven by a bow of yew
A clothyard shaft which truly flew
would pierce plate armour through and through
and many were the knights we slew.
...
I suffer from a malady.
which is slowly killing me.
There’s no known cause nor any cure.
Its something which I must endure.
...
After mature consideration
When was young I used to feel
how strange it must be to get old.
...
The time had come for me to go and leave the world of work behind
I was not sure, did not know how I would occupy my mind
To fill the long hours of the day. I knew some things I’d like to try.
But work had left small time for play and now there s was no reason why.
...
Some take their writing seriously
Whilst others are just dilettantes
Though my muse states imperiously,
that I must write the way she wants
...