Tony Mushrow Poems

Saturday 25 05 2013

My Goldfish Frank.
...

The Old Oak Tree At The Abbey.


Ancient oak, sentinel of the Abbey.
...

Vixen.
...

I killed you with a text.


That morning you were in a rush.
...

We are your slaves, we need to see. we need to tell you that we had a pee.
No more friends, for chats and talks, no more dogs, getting took for walks.
...

Half Written Poems.


They lie about, half finished, like flapping fish, taken from the sea, gasping for oxygen. Half alive, half dead, I visit them at times, and tantalise them, with a word or a line. Then leave again, its cruel really, they didn’t ask, to be born. They hide in old books, phones, computers, scraps of paper.
...

The Moon.

She sits up in the blackest sky,
The tidal changer, the unblinking eye.
...

The New Moon.

The rising new Moon,
gifts us her celestial Light.
...

Versuvius,

Now a beautiful sleeping giant,
but once growling anger,
...

A place for the kiddies,
It had swings and a slide.
It had a roundabout too,
And places to hide.
...