Mike Berriman Poems

Of all the birds that I hold dear
Our butcher bird calls when he is near
His woodnote pierces our early dawn
To this honeyed sound I am drawn.
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Pride we carry, one and all
Remember this frailty before our fall
Idolatry of self, a deadly sin
Destroys humility of that within
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A baby boomer of advancing years
I tackle the net, my nemesis my fears
On line shopping, the love of many
So easy to shop, to spend that penny.
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Once time was a friend
It waited for me, silently
Hanging there in the air, still and serene
Idle summer days with no ending
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This is a battle for young and old ears
A loosely held secret of some 100 years
The battle of Beersheba won with bayonet and horse
And the skill of our riders, our most precious resource.
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How sad is our food now so fast
So many dishes the range so vast
our food is prepared, so we just heat
Instant meals, pre masticated meat.
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I enjoy reading books and writing lines of prose
It starts with a word, and from there it just grows
To describe as exciting is drawing a long bow
But very engaging writing messages row on row.
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TV shoppers buy jewels and charms
They cover fingers, necks and arms
Tired dollies with six rings a hand
A modest boost to life so bland.
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To be human is to err and to sin
So many errors, now where to begin
If I recalled all my vices
It would dispell all my nices
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