I’ve started to look at them again
Cynical, handsome drunken men
Trilbies perched poetically upon their troubled heads
Broken tired hearts made of lead….
Being a ‘love child’ of the war
My Mother’s up and gone
And had a DNA test
To find out where she’s from…
You’re nothing special you’re not so great
Take a look at yourself now you’re not off your face
Old Aunt Mediocrity knocks at your door
It’s starting to look like you were a fraud…
New shirt with old jeans
Smell of Al’s coffee beans
Soft pyjamas on my skin
Sweet sound of a mandolin
Sunset over Wanstead Flats
Garden walls with grumpy cats
Bluebells bursting from the ground
In love again with this old town…
Inspired by Prince Willy
I rang the Mental Health
Thinking I could do with
A bit of that myself…
This poem is a song now too. You can hear it here…
He wants somebody normal –
It’s nothing personal
(He thinks I’m kind and clever
Sweet and beautiful)….
This is two acrostic poems. The first one using bad things I’ve been called and the second a much more positive interpretation!
Emma the weirdo, out of place
Manic – Depressive basket case
Miscreant, no control
Alcoholic, on the dole….
She doesn’t date
Or look for a mate
She ducks romance
With a polite “No Thanks…”
This poem was inspired by my 17 year old daughter complaining
about people asking her this stupid question..
(It is a song now – hence the chorus)
WHAT YA GONNA DO GIRL WHAT YA GONNA BE?
WILL YOU GET A JOB OR GO TO UNIVERSITY?
WHAT YA GONNA BE GIRL WHAT YA GONNA DO?
YOU’D BETTER MAKE YER MIND UP SO WE CAN PLAN FOR YOU
Unused to the theatre
I thought I’d try my hand
and right on cue I went and fell
for the leading man
When my guard was down
He delivered his first lines
Well-rehearsed and confident
Beautifully – timed….