Tony Mushrow
Tony Mushrow Poems
The empty chair reminds me of how cruel life can be.
The empty chair reminds me of how joyous life once was.
It reminds me of how life once tasted sweet.
And how it can become so bitter.
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The Hanging Tree…
The date is set, now I know my destiny, to dangle beneath the hanging tree. My one true love will be waiting for me, waiting beneath the hanging tree.
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The Ring.
I silently, slipped my gift of gold,
onto her fine third finger, left hand.
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Who Is That In The Mirror?
Who is that in the mirror/
just staring back at me /
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The Old Oak Tree At The Abbey.
Ancient oak, sentinel of the Abbey.
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I killed you with a text.
That morning you were in a rush.
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We are your slaves, we need to see. we need to tell you that we had a pee.
No more friends, for chats and talks, no more dogs, getting took for walks.
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Half Written Poems.
They lie about, half finished, like flapping fish, taken from the sea, gasping for oxygen. Half alive, half dead, I visit them at times, and tantalise them, with a word or a line. Then leave again, its cruel really, they didn’t ask, to be born. They hide in old books, phones, computers, scraps of paper.
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The Moon.
She sits up in the blackest sky,
The tidal changer, the unblinking eye.
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A place for the kiddies,
It had swings and a slide.
It had a roundabout too,
And places to hide.
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The Best Poem Of Tony Mushrow
The Empty Chair
The empty chair reminds me of how cruel life can be.
The empty chair reminds me of how joyous life once was.
It reminds me of how life once tasted sweet.
And how it can become so bitter.
The empty chair echo’s sounds of laughter,
The empty chair reminds me of how laughter can turn to ashes in your mouth.
It reminds me of when I asked for a flower and you gave me a garden.
It reminds me that there is another star in the heavens.
The empty chair says goodbye again and again and again.
The empty chair remind me, how life never gives it merely lends.
It reminds of how my tapestry is more unwoven and unpicked.
It says heartache, pain, suffering and stinging tears.
The empty chair is a reminder of battles won, but a war lost.
It is a doorway that opens to allow emptiness to roll over me.
Through the door I am in a land without sun.
This empty chair hangs on the edge of the Grand Canyon.
The empty chair begs a thousand questions but answers none.
The chair is revered and seldom sat on.
It is like a throne waiting for the return of a king.
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4/19/2024 5:47:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Tony I found your poems delightfull, they are so full of energy and mixed emotions. Thankyou for sharing them with us. GH.