Tag Archives: poets

Philosophers Disagree On What It Is To Be Free

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Shall I confess?
She wore not a dress
But standard issue jeans.
The scenes
Enacted
Impacted
And she
And me
Played our bit part
In this drama of sin.

No words of love were spoken
And the heart
Was unbroken.
Yet one may still regret
Or not as the case may be.

Philosophers disagree
On what it is to be free.
And I think on she
And me.

Great Art

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Some go down the primrose path to hell
With a song in their heart.
The wise well
Know that those who go
Down that path
Oft produce great art.
Some do so
With a bitter laugh
And others with a sigh,
And I
Wonder why
Devils can make angels cry

A Girl’s Bare Arm

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Her arm bare under my hand.
I have no command
And shee
Is not Of me.

I wonder does she understand
The fact
Of her impact
On men?

When she
Laughs it is with me
(But with others to)
So I know
That it can not be true.

Does she
See through me
As we walk
And talk?

Yet there is no
Harm in enjoying the charm
Of a soft, bare arm
Of a girl who happened to be free
And offered it to me.

There Was A Young Man Called Standish

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There was a young man called Standish
Who’s behaviour was rather offhandish.
When I said “you are most rude”.
He replied “you dare to intrude,
Your conduct is truly outlandish!”

There Was An Elderly Man Called Lear

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There was an elderly man called Lear
Who said “the future is bleak I fear.
I shall drink 2 bottles of wine
And on caviar dine,
Then call on my young mistress Mia …

I caught An Elusive Thing

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I caught an elusive thing.
‘Twas happiness on the wing.
Honeyed words were said
And we ended in bed.

I caught an elusive thing.
‘Twas happiness on the wing.
The birds sang on a summer’s day
And I implored my mistress to stay.

The birds still
Sing
And will
Bring
Sad thoughts to mind
For I find
That within their song
Resides the truth “this won’t last long”.