Tag Archives: life

Life

Walking through the tube on my way home.
Alone
In this crowd.
Would
That I could
Be a cloud
Up above.
Yet we are all clouds
Blown hither and thither by crowds,
Trying to keep our identity in the throng
Whose song
Is “Work then home
Alone.
Perhaps a few drinks with the boys or girls
(the social whirl)
Or collapse in front of mindless television
(watching overpaid hosts
On reality TV interviewing ghosts
Who inspire derision, Not fear).
Sometimes we see it clear
But rather than confront the truth (which is difficult to do),
Instead flick through
Channels where you can shop till you drop
For the latest crop
Of gadgets (not needed before,
But once you saw
You just had to buy)
For one must be a “with it” guy.

Going to bed
Your head
Is clear for a while.
There can be no denial
That you may think
(unless your mind be muddled with drink)
Ere sleep “wraps up the ravelled sleeve of care”,
But beware
For you may dream
And all that does seem
Will be revealed for what it is, a soon forgotten soap opera in which you play
A barely noticed role then fade away.

Willow

I Am?

Ere We Die

5 Replies

On seeing the stormy sky
The poet thinks “man must die”.
He sees the young girl bloom
And says “she is destined for the tomb”.
Oh let us gather wild flowers
And not waste our powers
Trapped in ivory towers.
Beware the scholar’s domed head
For we are soon dead.
May our spirit fly
Ere we die
And are lost in endless sky.

Leaves Blown At Night

2 Replies

Leaves blown at night.
Delight
Sorrow.
This moment we borrow
And think of a tomorrow
That may never come.
We run
Perchance have fun
Then, ‘Tis done.

—

Walking my dog at around 4:30 on a blustery December evening, I was conscious of the fallen leaves blowing around me. This gave rise to the above poem.

Kevin

Wishes

10 Replies

You may desire a thing
And whistle in the wind.
But wishes fail to fly
And oft times die
With a doleful sigh.
Such is the lot Of you and I.

From The Dark We Come And To The Dark We Shall Return

5 Replies

We come out of night.

Oh brief delight.

The song of the bird

A loving word

All are heard.

Nature’s scent

Our lives are spent

In joy and pain.

In the end ‘tis all the same.

From the dark womb

We come

For a time dally under the sun

Then to the tomb.

It is over all to soon.

Ploughing

And The Logical Place For A Jar Of Coffee is …

11 Replies

As an author, my mind sometimes wanders from the matter in hand and focuses on my writing. Yesterday I was making coffee. Not a difficult job as it merely entailed opening a jar of instant, spooning in coffee, adding milk and pouring boiling water into the mug. Yet I still managed to complicate this simple process.

“Why is there no milk in my coffee?” I asked myself.

On opening the fridge I discovered a jar of instant coffee comfortably ensconced next to the milk. Now I distinctly remember taking the milk out of the fridge. However instead of pouring milk into the mug I had returned it unopened to the fridge together with the jar of instant coffee!

On another occasion so intent was I on contemplating matters of a literary nature that I added both a tea bag and instant coffee to my mug. Now I am a relatively adventurous soul and am always willing to try out new things. I did, however draw the line at coffee mixed with tea!

I would be interested to hear from authors and readers. Am I alone in my odd coffee making habits?! I suspect others fall prey to the distraction of the book they are working on or reading and do bizarre things. Would you care to share what they are?

Kevin