Empty
Exhausted
The social clock has run out
Too much
Too even put words on a page
Sleepy – R.W.
Heavy lids
Drooping
And dropping
Moist with an ache behind them
Flutter
A grasp at consciousness
An attempt to stay with it
Dropping again
The weight
And pressure too much
Just too much
Home – R.W.
Small alone and scared
I don’t like this place
That you call our home
I feel isolated
Every move made is judged
Dissected
And reviewed
This isn’t a safe place
Not somewhere I can sleep easy
Everything’s wrong
And if I don’t feel it
I get told it
Homemade – R.W.
Sweet and sticky
Sour and tart
A little cloudy
But full of love
A tangy elderflower
Cordial
With a lemon base
Dropped in hand pressed
Cider from
A demi john
Mr Heron’s Pond – R.W.
Inspired by Jane Dougherty’s anecdote here
Misty meadow sits in the morning mildew
Fallen leaves of the nearby forest
Sail first through the tostleing wind and rain
Before settling on the surface of the small pond
The heron’s pond
For it is his home
He’s left it unattended now
Away on a trip, unbeknown when he shall return
An egret checks in, house sitting
Not quite an intruder but neither a regular
Definitely an opportunist
The fat frog creeps out to see who his new master be
Over come with greed and the gift in his eyes
The egret swoops and swallows in a single motion
A tasty snack
As if by fate, at the moment most foul, the ponds true owner returns from his elopement with the sky
On my land how dare you and in my home
A heated argument ensues whilst pacing around the jousting ring
Each daring the other to make the first lunge
You come into my home and eat my constituents
There are rules round here, regulations
A frog is not for the taking simply because you wish it so
Temper boiled, the heron jabs at the egret
As the egret steps back he braces his wings
As though to show how much larger he is
A fools tactic as the heron responds in kind
Both birds now trapped in a dance
Until with a final clash, Mr heron retreates
Rebekah – R.W.
The friend I needed
In my lowest moments
You cared not
That my old friends
Ridiculed
Belittled you
Just that I didn’t
And I stood my ground
Defended us
Defend you
Pure and good
You listened
Respected
And loved
Despite my hurt
And pain
You held me
Forgave me
In those moments
I needed a friend
A real friend
Not convenience
Or envy
But a human
A whole person
To lean on
And be the friend
I needed
At A Loss – R.W.
Words whizz
Around my head
Rhymes and rhythm
Run away
With the train of thought
By the time I reach the end
It’s gone
A blank nothingness
To report
Lunch Date – R.W.
A stolen few moments
From the corporate owned
Company day
A lunch break
With my love
Sat in the cold
A concrete bench
Halfway between our office buildings
Sandwiches
A picnic
While pigeons peck
At crumbs we drop
Could be anywhere
As long as I’m with you
My love
Home – R.W.
It’s funny how
Where you call home
Can offend so many
Yet it’s an arbitrary value
Assigned to somewhere your return to
In university
Parents take offence
That your term time address
Will sometimes be home
While your housemates
Wince everytime
You call the place you grew up
Going home
It’s easy to live
Somewhere not considered
Your home
Somewhere you don’t feel
As though you belong
Entire countries away
From a place
To call your own
Rivalries mean
That even when you settle
On one place as your home
You dare utter it out loud
And someone will say
You shouldnt be proud
Have you seen how they perform
On the TV?
What about Thier scores
In this season’s league?
Home is home
Yet it may not be
Where you are
Or easy to please
Repercussions – R.W.
Consequences advertised
Clear what would happen
From the get go
I’ve always been good at empathy
But sympathy
When you’ve just been so stupid
Conducted the action
Expected a different result
I’m sorry I can’t help
Next time
Please listen
At the start
