Morning!

Old Man

A tuneful old man from Bray

Played his tuba whilst lying in Hay

He soon choked on his tongue

Afore he'd played for too long

He's lying in Hay to this day.

A Cloud

A Cloud

There was a small cloud in the sky

Who was scared at being so high

So he grabbed onto a hill

And some valleys did fill

That foggy young cloud in the sky

A new poem

I was just reading about depression and how debilitating it can be when people feel the need to pretend everything is OK and this poem came into my head.

How are You?

Hey! Long time no see, how are you?

I'm fine, never better, in the pink.

I lie,

Whilst dying inside, a lump of undefined

Sadness gnawing at me for no reason

That I can find. It's just there gnawing at me,

No respite, just a constant chew, chew, chew

At the very fibre of my being, leaving me

Exhausted because I'm fine, never better, in the pink.

Now I know that many poetic purists will criticize my style, lack of scanning/rhyming and many other poetry rules that I fail to observe. I'm also sure that many will think my poetry is crap. That's fine. And I'm not sure why I feel the need to defend my poems other than my innate lack of a sense of self-worth but all I have to say is that they just come to me, I don't spend ages agonizing over them, they come from my heart and mind and that's the way I like them and intend to continue producing them.

Two poems

These came to me as I was lying half-awake at 3am today.

I'm Safe

I lie, head covered

To protect me from the

The Bogey Man.

I fall asleep, wake

Oh no! An arm is out!

Look up, relax, it's daylight

Through the curtains,

I'm safe.

Die!

Go back to where you came from!

Die!

You're not like me

Snowflake, Commie, Queer,

Die!

The hatred flows, how to stop it?

Report to Facebook, Twitter?

They do nothing, the answer's

Simple if only you would see.

Stop, think before you press send

Be kind.