A Time To Be Me

A Time To Be Me

A Time To Be Me How much of life is ours to make? Do we make our own mistakes? Or do we live to others rules? And work through life with borrowed tools. Do we own our lives we lead? Are we just here to simply breed? And fill our time with useless tasks, Am I the first one who has asked. What is the point meek existence? I plan to put up some resistance. To make a life for some to see, It’s now time, time to be me. I’ve lead a life by all the rules, I now return the borrowed tools. The house, the wife, the kids,

Poetry. A Change Of Pace

Poetry. A Change Of Pace

Nymph of the Woods Sitting as I love to do, watching nature fresh and new, Bright new buds of flushing blooms, tiny little red mushrooms, Just the kind that pixies love, and watching birds soar above. Catching all the scents of spring, lost in aimless wondering. The gentle breeze upon my skin, with thoughts of freedom deep within. Gazing at the rays of sun, dancing in the leaves above. I look at what is all around, natures gifts that do abound. Then close my eyes and hear the song, of birds that sing all day long. Relaxed and peaceful, as I rest, I’m lost in nature at its best. I

The Clown

The Clown

The Clown Everybody’s happy; I’m everybody’s clown, I always wear my smiling face, even when I’m feeling down. No one sees the tears I shed, every single day, “Make me smile; I’m feeling sad,” all the world does say. And so I make them laugh, and warm them from within, They all think they love the clown, but I let nobody in. My greasepaint smile, always there, for that is all they see, Everybody loves the clown, but no one will love me. It’s not because some haven’t tried, but they have tried in vain. I am so unsure that I can love, without causing pain. The gift of love

Show Me

Show Me

My recent post about politicians had me searching my files for a verse I wrote some years ago. I had forgotten that my choice of vocabulary had been so graphic, so be warned before you go on to read this that it does contain some very course language. The image I have selected should also warn you that I have stripped my normal veneer of respectability and ventured into the uncouth. If you haven’t hit the ‘close window button’ by now, there is nothing more I can say that will deter you from reading on. Reading the verse again now only serves to remind me that nothing at all has