Bernard Shaw Poems
|1.||A Cross At The Front.||10/27/2003|
|4.||A New Start.||10/14/2003|
|5.||A Poem A Day.||10/18/2003|
|7.||An Evening Out.||11/1/2003|
|22.||Derby And Joan.||10/18/2003|
|24.||Do Not Grieve.||10/10/2003|
|25.||Eclipse.11 August 1999.||11/5/2003|
|39.||Hills And Dales.||11/1/2003|
Have you ever had that feeling?
That you are completely lost.
Your mind and senses reeling,
As in a dark foreboding frost.
Nothing but nothing is as it seems,
Words like phantoms come and go.
It is as if all the bizarre dreams,
Have turned your brain to snow.
The ticking of the mantelpiece clock,
Cuts the silence like a knife.
Your mind is in a mysterious block,
You ask yourself is this my life.
Perhaps I am just getting old,
Brain and body gone to pot,
Where are the times that I was bold,
And my brain could solve every plot.
In my house there lives some ghosts,
Mischief is their second name.
They always seem to be drinking toasts,
Usually from my best champagne.
I cannot say they are as drunk as Lords,
For that would be going too far,
But I fear they often rattle their swords,
As they stand around in my bar.
They tell some pretty tall tales,