On a Slow Road to Hell

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Posted in Freaky Friday

“Going to hell, in a handbasket, really, really fast”

On a Slow Road to Hell

Loosing all sense of colour
No use in a loud holler
All shades of grey are fading
The perfect picture slowly degrading
Turning to black and white
Really, there was no fight

Life passing by in slow motion
Reminiscent of an old silent film
But with less commotion

Standing here
Where the line used to be
Then, drawn in sand
Facing what I feared
A wall of concrete
Now complete
Wondering,
Who’s got the upper hand

A note of some kind
Almost rendered me blind
In proud bold letters,
A big ass sign

“TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!”

hell-1

If There is a Wrong Place and a Wrong Time, I’ll be There

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Posted in Throwback Thursday

“Not fitting in just means you’re in the wrong place”

If There is a Wrong Place and a Wrong Time, I’ll be There

A sale of shoes
Small sizes only
feeling bold
Into the men’s section
I wandered
No time to loose
A nice pair of boots
Fitting like a glove
I am in love
A passer by
Asks me to pose
For a picture
To be a feature
In the paper

In my raggedy jeans
Crashing a party
Of the cocktail kind
A piece of a pie
Instructing all to jive
I was an
Overnight sensation
Even without
The proper presentation
Dancing the night away
With a hip and a sway

In my way to a show
My face in a glow
Hoping premium seats to score
Then a let down
All sold out
Feeling like clown
My face in a frown
Life is a bore

Sitting in the entry way
Sobbing
‘Hey lady’ I hear
Can you sing?
In my mind a ding
My heart is throbbing
Without remorse
I join the chorus
Singing my heart out
Without a doubt
The best night
Of my entire life
Despite the lack
Of several facts
I can’t dance, act or even sing

I, am the Queen, of Fucking Everything!

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Posted in the Throwback Thursday

“Careful how you play your card, when you have a queen in your hand”

I, am the Queen, of Fucking Everything!

Who am I?
You dare to ask me?
Or are you playing shy?
Or do you task me?

Do you not know who I am?

I am everyone
And I am no one
I know all
Still I am alone

I own everything
And I own nothing
I rule the world
Yet, I rule nothing
I rule your world
I rule you

I am gorgeous
I am sexy
I am marvellous
I am perplexing
Hardly ordinary
I am, extraordinaire

All the adjectives you can imagine
No one quite my kin

I can do anything
I can do everything
I can go everywhere
You can find me anywhere

And don’t you dare
To disagree with me
Or I will give you the scare
For contradicting me

Why?
You ask

The reason is
this simple thing
I am the Queen of
Fucking Everything!

i-queen

Tulips

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tulips

Tulips, gently swaying, in the warm spring sun
Their colour of the brightest red, indicating fun
Counting down from a multitude to one
Spring time is here: everyone has won!

Train Tracks

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Train Tracks

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

The finger taps
Someone, playing the sax
The birds along side, their wings flap
A gentleman, trying to nap
This is no place to relax
Just join this rhythmic parallax
Enjoy the beat to the max
For on this trip, no one pays the tax

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

Piled Up

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Piled Up

Piled up, for future consumption
Possibly, in a fiery combustion
Or at least, it was the assumption
The other option
To this odd concoction:
If you follow my suggestion
Maybe build a house instead?

Berries

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Berries

Juicy and sweet
Its taste a treat
Mix it in a tea or soup
Maybe into your mouth just scoop
The seasonal red berries in the bush
Plenty of them, no need to push
Just make your pick
And soon enough, your fingers you’ll lick

Tree Tops

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tree Tops

Where blue and green meet
In a rhythmic windy beat
Where spring’s growth is incomplete
And the weather still in a loss of heat

Just take a seat
Admire the treat
The dance of the trees
In this seasonal breeze

Slow Boat

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Slow Boat

Over the nightly waters
A few daring trotters
Have set sail to the land of promise
Looking for that ultimate bonus

A peaceful resting place
Where life still stays
Where nothing ever changes
Only surrounded, with familiar faces

The land of utopia
A proverbial cornucopia
The final destination
With one united nation

Horizon

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Horizon

Far away in the nightly horizon
Long before the moon’s arising
Where meeting, of the blue waters and skies
Here is, where the secret lies