Bri Mar Poems

Does Heaven exist?
Is Hell on the list?
Or could the whole thing be a fraud,
A man made con which can be dismissed,
...

One of our heroes lies dead in the street,
Butchered by savages from his head to his feet,
His killers stand over him filled with conceit,
With barbarism they were devoured.
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Each day of your life is so precious,
Make the most of it while you’re here,
We don’t know when we may lose it all,
What day or what time of the year.
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If you term me as coloured does that mean you’re not,
Do I have other attributes that you haven’t got?
Does the fact I am different leave you distraught?
I bet you wish you could be like me.
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What's in a title you may well ask,
Think carefully before you name,
A nom de plume is akin to a mask,
It can be beautiful but it can also maim.
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I weigh myself every day,
But it's all to no avail,
Despite countless diets I can say,
I was always doomed to fail.
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Are you disillusioned and fed up with your life,
Do you feel it's no longer worth living?
We're all partly responsible for our own strife,
There are times it can be so unforgiving.
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The good Lords commandments have been cast to the side,
If you commit murder there's no need to hide,
We no longer heed the words of our God,
With self-interest society has become overawed.
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The Twenty Fifth of January 1759,
A talent was born who'll forever shine,
Though his life would be full of twists and turns,
There'd be no better writer than our own Robert Burns.
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My wife said she was going out to shop,
I knew she'd be gone for hours,
So I cleaned the house from bottom to top,
Then went out and bought her some flowers.
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