Bed or Write

the temperature is falling
and my bed is calling
to me
to get some sleep

do I retire
as I’m really tired
or continue to write
late into the night

I’ll make up my mind
after a little more time
in my comfy chair
then maybe I’ll stir

and go off to bed
with words in my head
and thoughts on my mind
’bout a poetic line

until I do
I’ll write for you
one more verse
for which is worse

tiredness and not sleeping
or not writing and not keeping
that spark alive deep inside
the indefinable that makes us write

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Wee Hours

there’s a certain calm
to be found
in the hours after midnight,
a stillness,
solitude,
seldom found
in daylight hours,
that darkness
brings when
the curtains of night
are drawn around us

it is here we
dream,
ponder,
wish upon that star
sparkling overhead
as the night enfolds us
in its quiet embrace

Smoke and Mirrors

My grandfather said
it was all fake,
over forty years ago,
when we sat around
the television to watch
that momentous show;

‘one small step for man
one giant leap for mankind’.

Is it possible
they did mess with our minds?

We’ve all seen the film
haven’t we,
of that alien place
and the endeavours of
those astronauts brave

We’ve also seen cars fly,
the Hulk leap tall buildings
in a single bound,
seen castles in the air,

by way of the dream factory
that is Hollywood.

The camera doesn’t lie…

Marriage

Ah, marriage;
church bells, flowers,
horse drawn carriage,
happy ever after?

If you’re lucky,
in love.

If, on the other hand,
you’re not so lucky;

Fights, infidelity,
broken hearts,
divorce,
twice,
as one
or the other
departs;
not so nice.

Ah, marriage;
wouldn’t have missed it
for the world;
to be one
with the girl
of your dreams,
if only for a minute,
is what marriage means,
for me
at least.

And to all those
contemplating joining
this august institution,
I wish you peace,
happiness
and joy.

Third time lucky?

Who knows…

Dear Reader

There’s so much I’d like to say
but unfortunately,
not today

the words won’t flow,

so off I go
to attend
to matters mundane;

food, cleaning, laundry too,
all the while thinking of you,

and still
the words won’t come,
there’s nothing
I can do,

some days the paper
just stays empty,
except for a doodle or two;

and still I have no words for you,

dear reader.