Five Minute Improv
A challenge I set myself, With five minutes on poem’s shelf.
Wishful dreamer
A challenge I set myself, With five minutes on poem’s shelf.
Lyrics to a song that touched my childhood... Brother of disaster and sister of our fate Do you count the tragedies we see.
The child wakes up and jumps out of bed. The adult moans and rubs their sore head. The child laughs and runs to the tree The adult stumbles to the kettle for tea. The child believes "He's been.
(To the tune of Mistletoe and Wine Chorus) Christmas Time, In the chemist line.
The human condition Proud and strong A millennia to build with Our iPhones and throng . Imperfect we, To kill our own so merciless we; Torment, bully, kill the innocent We deserve our place?.
Another old poem I found from my mixed up teenage-ness. My senses are starved, The food has no taste. Sleep brings no comfort, My days are a waste. People move through me, Like shadows they pass.
Heart of stone it would appear, Solid fortress free from fear, But the soul itself wants someone near, Why can’t I feel.
Monotony, the modern drudge, No longer through the mud we trudge. With wood and straw our labours born, To feed our kin with meat and corn.
My brother Adam, Is a wonderful guy. He's witty and clever, Though a little bit shy. He does lots of biking, And loves the outdoors. He cycles for miles, Despite saddle sores.
Once again she stops and stares, At something I can't see. But I don't have those feline wares, That keen ability. How does she perceive this place, Her senses sharp and honed.
It was the early hours of the morning when he awoke, his eyes flickered open slowly as his mind gradually caught up with the shift in environment - the memory of the world in his head fading as the...