A good year

They forecast rain
But grey clouds shed
No tears.
Together we watered
Dry earth,
Planted seeds for
Life anew.

The blue tits
Have returned to
The nesting box

It will be a good year.



White shirt sweat
Whisky swills glass,
Smirking at the barmaid
She’s a tidy piece of ass

Sniff a line of powder
Chomping at the bit
Bright red lipstick
A pair of perky tits

Greedy eyes water
Lips licked raw
Blonde hair spread on
A dirty hotel floor

Pink flesh bursts
Silver band cuts tight
Can’t quite forget
When you play the field tonight


Watch you sleep easy,
Chest rise and fall
And realise I don’t tell
You at all

Life passes by;
Feelings locked away,
Too caught up with our
Day to day

Whisper low
‘This is a happy life –
and I’m so very proud
be your wife’.

Through dreams you surface,
Smile a slow, soft smile
Wrap me tight, and hold me
Close a while.

Office madness

Woken up in a daze,
A sniffly haze.
Want to stay in bed
Shake germs from your head.
But you fear the anger
From your line manager
So you drag your bones to work,
Where everything hurts,
And you spread your infection
For wage protection.

Realise you’ve had your fill.
Office life is making you ill.

For your own wage protection.