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Adult Poems

Poem: Great White.

Great White. . . What good did it do me to build a boma round my heart. You stalked me like a legendary hunter and broke through my defences without even a scratch. . .

Poem: Figure Of A Man.

Figure Of A Man. . . It was a strange day To sit under the special tree Crushing down the summer grass Deep within cool shade. I saw a dark figure in the distance At the far edge of the field Standing quite motionless. When I looked again later It seemed to be much nearer […]

Poem: Money, Money, Money.

Money, Money, Money. . . It does not matter about money It has no conscience, It’s the things you do for money That will do the damage. . .

Poem: The Woods.

The Woods. . It’s a quiet world tonight Looking out onto the woods, No shine at all from the moon Just shadows as far as the eye can see. I wonder what is moving out there Deep within the tree line, Perhaps only the smallest creatures Hiding away from the dangers of the night. . […]

Poem: Night Time.

Night Time. . . These quiet hours are filled with the ticking of the clock, trying hard to persuade me that the night is passing by. It seems like a con trick, while I lie here staring like a patient scryer, for the length of days it takes to pass the time contained within one […]

Poem: Throwback.

Throwback. . . On a chill autumn day Walking down by the river, There was a sudden awareness Of height and muscular breadth, A smooth and masterful stride, Of long yellow hair flowing back. People clustered closely behind But too afraid to overtake. Arm raised up to receive the bird That plummeted back towards the […]

Poem:Don’t Talk Crap.

Don’t Talk Crap. . . Don’t you try to tell me That everything is due to change, Don’t tell me that you think It is like the roll of a dice. We are here in this moment Because all possible roads Could only have led us here To this place where we finally stand. Holding […]

Poem:Those Were The Days.

Those Were The Days. . . Such tiny things can bring pleasure. As I turn into my Nan’s yard I can smell the familiar aroma Of scones, drifting through From the widely opened back door Where she stands in the kitchen Dressed in a flowery pinny Making scones just for me. She turns, with a […]

Poem. 95b.

95b. . . It is many months now since we last met, but there is nothing that has ever changed. I say your name and instantly connect. I still love you I truly do and I would die for you on any given day. . . I truly do.

Poem: Foodie Dreams.

Foodie Dreams. . . I would do anything for a meat and potato pie like the kind my mother used to bake. The ones I ate in her kitchen straight from the oven. Making puffy breaths as I jostled the red hot pastry around inside my mouth ’til it was cool enough to swallow. . […]