Shaun Cronick Poems

Whiter than white,
Purer than snow.
A virginal saint.
You'd like to know
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She was there wearing her dress cut from sin.
She was there with a ravenous devil's desire.
She was there with the words of dead saints.
She was there with a hypnotic voice from a choir.
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As last year crept slowly,
Towards its final end.
My thoughts again arise,
Of faults which I might mend.
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What do you see nurse, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
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A poet's spark is born.
Creating many beacons.
Sharing their light.
For one and all.
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Many sleepless nights,
Day after day.
Sheer bloody agony,
That won't go away.
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We kid ourselves sometimes,
In our lives we live and lead.
That no calamity falls on us,
And of course we'll all succeed.
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They came from all walks of life.
Men, women even the young.
All evil.
Thirty million.
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