Your Poetry Dot Com

I don't know
I honestly do not know
stationary in the flow
children cry flowers wilt
old women peep out
from beneath their quilts

Minds exhausted practically dormant
activate mouths that ramble and splutter
man theres, no soul on the street
cats creep along the gutter
a faded photograph of a child
gathers dust in a room full of clutter

Stifle a yawn
consider a new approach
get the kettle on
go for a smoke

She stirs a forgotten impulse
it's awkward in her presence
rejection delivered with a sneer
the remainder of the journey tense

The 6 o'clock no show at starley bridge
oh well, plenty more fish in the sea
and plenty more beers in the fridge

50, grey
it aint too far away
lines on the forehead
plastic ducks in the bath
a passion for horticulture?
seriously, it hurts me to laugh

Mourn not love lost
but love never found
low points on special brew
days without sound

Wet bench
parkside swigging
I can hear distant laughter
swings creak and cans clatter
tesco bags swirl with sweet wrappers
I'm already bald and I'm getting fatter
the lower end of the class scale doesn't matter
mumble into the night because no-one listens
In the moons silvery light the dewed grass glistens

Shame I am alone

Make your ma proud
better to create rubbish
than simply imitate genius
just make your ma proud

the views are vile
atmospheres sterile
buying the ref with middle class cunning
a mid life crisis a new found passion for running
cycling shorts
urban sports
how to begin?

It's simple really very very simple
observe my ambitions through shattered glass
see? I'm not here for sympathy I just want it acknowledged
that my future had shrivelled up and expired
before I'd even gone to college

Wiliam Hill, The Crown, Shipleys Amusements
all please leave me alone
a expensive distraction on my way home
suck peanuts and sip mild with
my dear fellow jobless
my dear fellow hopeless
my dear fellow luckless
my dear fellow homeless

So this England
shout it out loud
so this is England
make us proud
sweaty hand, clutching a creased daysaver
faded leather jacket, stubborn lighter
the evening is cold
a limp wrist flicked for the time
continuing to smoke below the golden line

screeching cats wailing sirens
city sounds rattle around hollow skulls
a tramp on chips protects his loot from the gulls
the dirty alleyways on this estate
that I'm unable to avoid
pegging the washing
preparing for tomorrow
Im going nowhere, love
but I'd like you to follow

This poem is Copyright © flavellm