Too Beautiful

So much beauty to naked eye,

Hits you seasonal welcome cry,

So much wonder to smelling nose,

Pungent aroma blooming rose,

Colours exploding all around,

So masterpieces new abound,

A warmth pervading every skin,

Sharing touch with the thick and thin,

Although my mind loves what it sees,

Similar to the birds and bees,

Perhaps my body says beware,

Wary things pretty aren’t all fair,

And so my nose leaks out the smell,

My eyes emitting colours well,

And I hide deep inside myself,

So much beauty bad for my health.

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Teach Peace Not War

Mummy, mummy what shall I do,

Is it safe to come home to you,

Mummy, mummy will they get me,

I do not know I cannot see,

Mummy, mummy make them disappear,

With their rockets, hatred and fear,

Mummy, mummy why don’t they cease,

Don’t their mummies teach them peace.

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What’s Not Said

Conversations word after word,

Stories told and stories heard,

Faces twisted into an act,

Pure intention becoming fact,

But what about the in between,

The words not said, the life not seen,

Covered by cobwebs of no clue,

The ugly real, perhaps more true,

Yet if you saw theirs, they saw yours,

Saw would be of same human flaws.

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The Art Of being Happy

It tastes horrid she said with glee,

Two year old tasting salty sea,

The sea is good her mother said,

So little girl drank more instead,

Bad things happened, face was sad,

Was not happy and was not glad,

Where is your smile to act with glee?

So mouth turned up for all to see,

Remember there is always good,

It’s just that you misunderstood,

The truth is not for all to see,

Else we would not be full of glee.

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The Brexit Wheel

The wheel was spun, round and round,

Without thought where it was bound,

Those against and those for,

Anti European war,

How can anybody win,

Fighting between friends and kin,

Spinner Prime Minister May,

Nothing she can do or say,

Every deal will be no good,

Despite doing what she could,

The leavers, the remainers,

Europe and the complainers,

Will all point their spoke at her,

And on this they will concur,

It is her fault, not ours, no,

She will have to step down, go,

But the wheel will carry on,

Even with Mrs. May gone,

Until the spokes see what’s real,

That they’re part of same round wheel.

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Pushing The Button

The story they sold,

The one he was told,

His job was so vital,

Whatever the title,

At a push with finger,

With pressure and linger,

He would alert with sound,

Siren for air and ground,

And he practised his post,

Well twice a year at most,

The rest of his service,

Lest index got nervous,

Exercised his digit,

To press with no fidget,

So why did they demote,

Button pushed by remote,

Automatically fired,

No finger required,

Whatever his title,

Even though job vital,

The no longer ringer,

Did follow his finger,

And left.

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Wrong Address

I scatter crumbs on the grass green,

And they come as if they have seen,

Or been told that it’s time for tea,

Sandwiches not eaten by me,

While they peck, chunks, a crumb at least,

From inside house I also feast,

On the birdsong choir, mixed tweet,

I have the only front row seat,

But by the door of house not mine,

Two geese wait their squawks noisy whine,

And they are not of local bird,

Neither seen and before not heard,

Wonder if they were mistaken,

Wrong address instructions taken,

Or they’d decided to fly down,

To try best takeaway in town,

And just to be proper polite,

Waited for teatime out of sight.

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