Tentative knocking on a suburban door,
Innocence enters but departs no more.
Clothes scattered on the bedroom floor,
Dreams shattered to be dreamed no more.
Tentative knocking on a suburban door,
Innocence enters but departs no more.
Clothes scattered on the bedroom floor,
Dreams shattered to be dreamed no more.
Yeats is dead.
Poetry has fled.
Nonsense fills the collective head.
The falcon has flown.
Chaos is sown. .
We reap the whirlwind alone.
(http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/172062?gclid=COymhN2TiscCFaYfwwodsmoO_Q).
Girls apply their masks.
No one asks.
A rumpled bed.
The words unsaid.
The night before
Is a closed door
To be opened no more.
The joyless kiss.
The passing lips.
The empty bliss.
No, not this!
Two girls hesitant to dance.
He seeking a kind of romance.
They with an eye to the main chance
Reluctantly advance.
Lonleness kills,
Seeks solace in thrills.
Emotions shut down,
A crisis profound,
Seed spills on stoney ground
The wind blows through the park,
My mood is bleak and dark.
Teenage voices glad,
What hope do they have?
In a world gone mad,
Should not one be sad?
The weather speaks to me,
Why can not man be free,
Flying with the breeze,
Amongst the dancing trees.
Familiarity makes the unbearable so-so.
Music from a phone playing.
Exploring hands.
Acrobatics in the bedroom.
The brook, once babbling is choked with weeds.
Diseased trees.
Fat brown paper envelope.
Shopping is the new religion.
A fox he went a-hunting, a-hunting with a bear,
They tracked a huntsman down, they tracked him to his lair.
Said the huntsman to the animals, “Two against one simply isn’t fair. Give a man a sporting chance to escape from his lair”.
Said those two to the huntsman, “Sir we have no gun. Come out, we’ll give you a sporting chance, lets all have some fun”.
Through an open window the huntsman tried to run.
The animals followed in hot pursuit, then came the fun.
Doors close on innocence that knows
A girl in her short summer dress.
Does she suspect?
A budding rose.
Men traverse long dark roads