Oh it's so easy to say -
'Give what you think you lack -
You feel unloved? Then give love, and love, and love...'...
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
A pretty girl
is like a simile
so I'd say
I'd like to write - like grown-up poets do:
with similes that span the universe,
that sparkle, crackle, dazzle, woo the mind;
and touch the heart with tender, swoony verse...
so there you are in
your pram or kiddikarria
nicely tucked up,
being talked to in that
This is an angry poem.
About those weasel phrases
which blow like paper in the street
and some other father at the club
says, has she flown the nest yet?
and it sounds so crude
you don’t want to answer.
I love you.
That's it, really.
all there is to say.
He — or was it she?
was a child who said little
but walked, endlessly, just looking
Someone mentioned your name yesterday
and I was silent
You loved goodness, you were goodness,