Sleep

Sleep came a’knocking
at my door
guiding me out
of the busy bright
I protested, I followed
once more, once more
into the darkness
into the night.

Hair Horror

Today, Monday 21st March 2022, is World Poetry Day. Today, Monday 21st March 2022, I went to the hairdresser. Due to these two occasions, allow me to share this melodramatic poem I wrote a few years back.

Damn! My hair is in my tea
My fringe is thick, I cannot see
My blindness makes the fact no lesser;
A meeting due with my hairdresser.

I calm my mind, yet drag my feet
to Treenie Todd on Torture St.
Who wields her scissors like a gun
It’s sharp hot weapons versus none.

I brace the armrests of the chair
Through packaged teeth, I wince and swear
Till head feels light, it’s time to go
Oh blasted hair, why must you grow?

Fishing with a Pen

Sometimes I hear verses
jangling in my skull.
With inky nets and self made bets
the loud ones, I so cull.

Sometimes it’s a clumsy catch
– a head vacant and hollow
In times like these I drop the pen
and see what brings tomorrow.