Saturday 26 March 2016

A poem

A Weekend thought
The dull dead hand of the weekend
Lies heavy on my solitary soul
The hours drag by with no light
At the end of the tunnel.
No, wait!
The club opens in five short minutes
A beer and a chat livens the day
That's all right then.
Phew!

Monday 7 March 2016

The Great Day

The Great Day

The Great Day creeps
Like a snail up a hill
I would like it perhaps
To break into a jog
Towards a time when 
Books can be read 
And written
travel undertaken
And the chains cast off