When I was young, the wind in the trees
Brought intimations of the Great Spirit.
Later, I suffered from a grey disease
And my soul was like an apple, rotten to the core.
...
We condemn this poet for his compulsion to rhyme
But must find a punishment fitting the crime:
His talent for writing will surely grow worse
And the loftiest poem turn to trivial verse.
...
I've seen the laughter in your eyes
And know that really you despise
Me, though you continually pretend
To be my advocate and friend.
...
'I'm terrified of cheese, ' he said,
'And rather scared of hats, '
'The cheese will make me sneeze,
You see, and hats just drive me bats! '
...
Walking by the Serpentine,
Kicking my feet through the autumn leaves,
Suddenly aware there's someone following,
...
In Canon Square
The sun beat down
One white-gloved Sunday
Warmed the town,
...
'God you're grey! '
My rival said.
(I'd taken his favourite
Girl to bed) .
...
hanging around
waiting for something to do
but there is nothing,
if he smoked he'd smoke a cigarette
...
Birds are the thoughts of
Trees in the evening,
Perched in their minds.
...
I should have known that seducing you
Was a hurtful and damaging thing to do.
I should have cared for the person inside
Instead of which I joked and lied.
...