Phil Soar Poems

Woodlice, field mice, locusts
All waking up to see
That it had rained all through the night
The fields looked like the sea
...

I looked into the mirror
My face looked tired and old
My hair was like a bale of hay
The air was moist and cold
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He spoke for a while about livestock and 'things'
How we need pollinators, how a skylark just sings
He was so influential, and chose his words well
Then he slipped on the wet floor and said: 'F***ing hell! '
...

He posted some nonsense on twitter
A hashtag, whatever that means
I can't say he sounded that bitter
As a hashtag is not what it seems
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When I was just a little lad
I was a wonder to my dad
He seemed to think I was a poo machine
And Sixty-five years on
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I planned to be in bed by nine
But wasn't sleepy at the time
And so I stayed awake for 4 more hours
And when the clock struck one
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'Write down your thoughts', then bin them
It's time to let them go
They can stay too long, before they're gone
And cause you harm you know
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