'You have been', said the matron
'assigned to Valhalla Hospice,
you'll like it there, I'm sure.
No one will really ever bother you
...
I have just read a thousand works
of the new poet on this site.
And must admit that it now irks
me to report with what I might
...
There once was a man with no soul
in his life he saw only one goal.
He would stomp, screw and pound
others into the ground
...
You, Jodilee, you
if you lived in a shoe
and I lived in the other
I'd be your big brother.
...
Some time ago,
while on my run
I came to the old weir.
And, as I passed
...
I had a dream last night, my flower,
you sat with me, out by the pool.
We talked and laughed 'til late the hour,
held hands that felt the night air cool.
...
What would we be, he asked
without this tool of tools?
The freedom to be masked
it does extend to fools.
...
What will I write to her this year?
About the childhood I remember?
Wait for the poem to appear
in local papers in December?
...
First light of dawn, just out of bed,
the scorpion sharpens all his claws.
He lives inside the shearer's shed
here, in the land of lucky Oz.
...
My father felt unwell that day.
he'd tripped on cobblestones.
It was expected that he rest
in bed his weary bones.
...