Alan Bruce Thompson
Biography of Alan Bruce Thompson
This anthology of simple poems about daily life, I have called
' OUT OF MY MIND'
Alan Bruce Thompson lives in Zurich, Switzerland with Elisabeth Thompson Huerner. Alan trained as a geologist and has spent more than 40 years as a professor and researcher. He is a passionate traveler with interests in world culture, world art, and the development of society. He is now able to devote more time to his other interests including painting and drawing, and writing fiction.
Comments about his poetry on this website can be made to email@example.com,
some of his paintings can be seen at
Alan Bruce Thompson Poems
She stood there pouting, adopting a film star pose, As her curvaceous virile body, pushed shape into her clothes. She perched on her stiletto heels, threw back her blond hair,
It's a bit rusty at the edge, falling apart at the seams, Its times are past, its hopes, its dreams. From inside our glass house, its easy to scorn the past,
Free Market Economy
The world began with me, there was nothing before, History what's that? Your past is a bore. What's there is here, was simply not there,
If you look another person in the eyes and they look away, Then your soul is free to look another day. Don’t look a dog in his eyes, because you’ll never be free,
Speaking Some Truth
Diplomacy I know is something I should find, Because people don’t like it when I simply speak my mind. I find it quite dishonest not to speak the truth,
Missing Your Voice
I hear your voice sometimes now, It's in the wind when it blows right through. I hear your voice daily now, There's no mistaking that sound quite true.
Granada Mi Amor
In the time of the almighty Moors Granada had open windows, open doors. Together were the crescents, stars and crosses,
Is it possible with just words too conjure up a smell, Do the words ‘burning flesh” remind you of Hell? And the mere mention of the breath of a lady’s perfume,
I can get what I want if I stamp my feet, If I make enough noise, I get what I want to eat, Exactly what I want, very colourful, very sweet.
Chain Of Lies
I told an untruth, a little white lie, Now it’s blown out of proportion, a mountain high. The first lie was really nothing, just avoiding the question,
She looks into the mirror with a loving stare, Wallowing in her beauty, adoring with care. She turns herself around in her selfie affair,
The holy family made of wood, Hoisted on shoulders, staggering then stood.
Deep beneath the surface of the sea, Away from the tides and the winds from lea. The mighty kraken floated as if lighter than air, Their tentacles swirling like octopi without a care.
I always say 'Yes', can never say 'No', Swallow all hurt, let no feelings show. He insulted me badly, called me the 'Son of a Bore'
Missing Your Voice
I hear your voice sometimes now,
It's in the wind when it blows right through.
I hear your voice daily now,
There's no mistaking that sound quite true.
I hear your voice hourly now,
I start to wait for the upcoming cue.